Dad and I casually walk along a cliff's edge enjoying Aeriel views outside Capital Reef National Park, Utah. He calls the place "Blue Valley", his home away from home. I would call it... a Desert.
He see’s beauty, refuge, potential and respite. I see dirt, dead trees, some mountains and a dried up river.
This is the first thing he wants to show me. “Take a good look at it”. He says. “It’s your family inheritance.”
I look to him to see where he is directing his gaze and realize, we are indeed, looking at the same thing.
I’m not sure how to respond. Are we metaphorically speaking? Is he telling me my inheritance is like this dried up desolate land? If so, I wouldn’t expect anything different. I didn’t know there was a family inheritance.
“All of this is ours!” He says with pride as he traces the land between the mountains with his finger.
“Dad and I purchased it back in 1968.” He remembers.
I smile at him. We don’t call him “Crazy Kelly” for nothing.
We haven’t spent meaningful time together since I was 12 years old. This is our first personal connection since.
I came out here to get “reacquainted.” It is just the two of us for the weekend.
I don’t have any expectations for the trip. My plan is to step into “his world” and see what comes of it.
Meeting him is not awkward. Dad is approachable as a puppy.
Our relationship is odd, I guess. I have described him as an Uncle figure. We see each other at family functions, greet each other with hugs and smiles, chit-chat and I introduce the new kids I have had since the last time we saw each other, then go our separate ways.
I hear bits and pieces about his life through the family grape vine between our next run in, and the process starts over again.
No hard feelings, no expectations, and no real connection.
A few months ago I sent him a text.
And that is what brings us to this spot.
I follow him along the ridge jumping over crevice’s as we go.
Some steps require a little leap. I calculate my footing to ensure a clear jump. In one of my efforts, the leap didn’t happen. I was mid stride across the gap when my planted foot broke through the earth and I went DOWN instead of advancing forward!
The crevice is wide enough that my body easily falls inside, but narrow enough that I can cling to the edge of the other side- where I was supposed to land. I am able to stop my immediate fall with my right knee, but it only helps me stick to the wall. I can’t use it as leverage to pull myself up. The only part of my upper body above ground is my head and arms. I’m hanging by my armpits. The ground is too soft to get traction. I’m scratching like a cat at the dirt. In this moment I am struck with terror. The thought of falling to the bottom is a reality and I know bones will break. I am bracing for pain, and hoped not death.
“Dad!” I call out wondering if it’s too late. The dirt under my left armpit is crumbling under my weight.
He is about 5 steps ahead of me with his back turned.
“Oh Emmy!” He panics, lunging back at me.
At this point my momentum is going backwards.
I am eye level to his boots running at me, praying his 76 year old body will be strong enough to lift me, or that he won’t go down with me in the effort. Everything depends on him.
The last time I spent time with him was 33 years ago! I do not know his current health condition. Thoughts like: “Will he be fast enough? Is strong enough?” and “Am I going to DIE?” shoot through my head at lightening speed.
He reaches me in time and I brace myself for the results. Will I be going down or will I be going up?
He pulls me out with more power than I expect, and without struggle. I am so relieved to be on solid ground and already wonder if that really happened.
I am embarrassed at the situation. At surface level it looks like I had put more effort into falling into that space than it took to simply step over it.
Dad shakes it off easily.
“How would you have pulled me out if I fell in there?!” I yell in a panic looking down into the death trap.
“I wouldn’t have”. He laughs.
Pointing back into the pit he says: “I’d say, this is the last place I saw her.” (Hands up in the air proving innocence)
I appreciate his humor. That was terrifying.
Of all the days of my life; this is the day I need him most. And he was here.
I guess it is not my time to go...after all, I have a desolate desert to inherit!
