I Made Him A Promise

#90 - And we will keep planting his ashes until his urn is empty

Four years ago, on September 21, 2019, I was getting ready to take Tucker to Campbell’s house, to sweep the fallen eucalyptus off the roof of his Man Shed.

Cam had aged out of climbing ladders, so I helped him where I could. And he’d sit in the garden with Tuck, barking orders as I worked on the roof.

Before we made it out the door, though, Tucker’s spine gave out as he tried to stand up on the slick tile. And I had to make the hardest calls I’ve ever made.

First to Brian, and Jenn, who came right over to help, after telling me to dose him with the rest of his pain pills.

And then to Cam, to let him know Tuck had left his body, and I wouldn’t be climbing on his roof that day.

A trail of ashes

Last week, on Thursday September 21st, four years after Tuck’s passing, Juice and I set off on a weekend road trip to Cimmaron, New Mexico, to spend time with Campbell, in his favorite place to be during Fall.

Cam had been asking me to join him on his yearly desert excursion for close to 15 years, and I finally said yes, knowing there would eventually come a time when he’d be gone, and I’d wish I would have made the effort.

“You’re bringing the young whippersnapper with ya too, right?” he asked me, one week before our trip.

“Of course, I wouldn’t leave home without him. Plus, someone’s gotta tuck you in, and kiss you to sleep each night!” I chuckled in response.

“Shove it where the sun don’t shine, kid,” he replied. “We’ll see you’s in the desert.”

Before we departed, Juice and I grabbed Tuck’s ash container from the Altar. Looking inside, there were only 6 capsules left, out of the 83 I packed before the bicycle tour in 2020.

I remembered how difficult it felt to accept his transition. How I’d weep at the sight of his ashes, in the past.

Yet, I found myself smiling, knowing I’ve been living the promise I made him. And how we aren’t even close to being done yet.

Fueled with love, laughing to myself, I witnessed again how time paints evolved perspectives in the hearts of the willing.

Turning to Juice, I had to make sure he was ready for another long round trip in the car.

“We’re down to the last 6 capsules, bud. We’ll have to make more when we get back from New Mexico. Are you ready to plant Tuck in some new states, as we drive really far today?” I asked my wirey, laser eyed companion.

He shot his response instantly—YES!

So we set off on a 1600 mile, round trip mission to see Cam, exactly four years after Tuck’s fateful day.

And during the first two hours of our drive, before the sun came up, there was a constant show of dry lightning, illuminating the cloudy sky in grandiose flashes.

It was him. I could feel his love in every jolt.

So I sang along to the music, and thanked him for our time together. In awe of his display, I thanked him for illuminating the road with his electric dance.

And after about 13 hours of driving, we arrived in Cimmaron for dinner with Cam and Company, after having dropped capsules in the following locations:

1. Sharon Springs, KS.

   1. By the old grain mill.

2. Cheraw, CO.

   1. In the lawn of the high school.

3. Cimmaron, NM.

   1. Just outside the flap of our tent.

4. Taos, NM.

   1. In Kit Carson Park, near where we witnessed the wedding.

Terror in the Mountains

But what would you do if your road trip plans went horribly awry, and disaster struck while you were nearly 1,000 miles away from home?

I found myself facing that question, when during the early hours of the morning on our 3rd day outside, something terrible happened, leaving me completely debilitated, and unable to drive further…

So, if you’re not already, subscribe to T.H.E. now, and stay tuned next Wednesday, for the full, mind-bending story about what happened in New Mexico.

See you next week. Buckle up.