“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you readjust the way you had previously thought of things.” ~ D. Handler

It has been an honor to share my memories of Todd with you all, and I could very well go on doing so for many more pages … And yet there is a space of time allotted for everything in life, and it is wise to sense the boundaries of those moments — to avoid striving to stretch them beyond where they are best left to be.

 

After any loss, there is a time for remembering the one who has passed.  And, after that time of remembering, there is a time for moving on … After we honor those who have passed with our thoughts & our words, there comes a time to honor their lives by re-channeling those energies into joyously living our own.

And so today I write a final farewell to Todd. I will continue to think on him often, of course, and I will probably make mention of him occasionally in future writings, and yet the days of mourning his passing by remembering his past will soon be behind us … Today, our days of LIVING begin anew.

As such, I am left with quite the great challenge: if this is to be my final chapter of openly remembering the life of my brother, which of the many amazing stories about him that remain am I to share?

*I could write about the time we hiked the Na Pali Trail on the island of Kauai with our mother – how, after Mom decided to take a boat back, Todd & I decided to run the entire length of the return. I remember how we would push each other as far as we dared before stopping for brief water breaks. I remember taking a “short cut” through the underbrush with him and getting lost. I remember how happy we were when we found the trail again … I remember how proud we were of the amazing time we made traversing – at least according to the Sierra Club at the time — one of the world’s ten most difficult trails. [Lesson learned:  short-cuts are rarely worth it]

 

*I could write about the summer that Todd oh-so-patiently taught me to throw a Frisbee forehand. I was such a slow student! I remember how his kind patience paid off (it always does) in the hundreds of hours we would huck the disc together in the years thereafter. I still find myself teaching children & adults alike to throw that same forehand these days, and I still try to emulate Todd’s kind patience when I do so. [Lesson learned:  Kindness is always Right Action]

 

*I could write about the trip we took to the Hoh Rainforest on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula – how we sat together by a fantastic campfire (Todd was very good at building bonfires of all sizes), eating avocado sandwiches and sipping cold Pete’s Wicked Ale (back in the day when Pete’s was still a small brewery and their beer still tasted like it).  I remember how we walked away from the campground afterwards and lay down on the ground for hours – mostly in silence — and watched shooting stars and satellites dance across a perfectly clear sky.  [Lesson learned: remember to regularly pause and appreciate the Heavens]

 

*I could write about our numerous, overly-athletic footbag sessions (we always seemed to have a hackey-sack with us, and we played ever chance we got – even once “illegally” at the Acropolis in Athens) – how it wasn’t ever enough to merely keep the sack in the air; we had to do so using the craziest of moves that often had it flying far & wide, with us chasing it far and wide as well. We didn’t play in a “hacky-sack circle” like most folks – Todd and I always seemed to require an entire “hacky-sack arena”.  [Lesson learned:  play BIG, or don’t play at all]

 

*I could write about our travels through Europe in the spring of 1994 – how Todd was so sick the whole trip and how we only encountered two days of sunshine the entire five weeks (and oh, how my brother LOVED to bask in the sun!) … and yet Todd never complained once. He always seemed to have a smile on his face then, and he was always game for the next adventure. [Lesson learned: it is a great service to others to keep your pain to yourself]

 

*I could write about visiting Todd and hiking with him & a girlfriend up Byers Peak near Fraser, Colorado – how Todd was so patient with us as we gasped for air and needed to rest every few steps as we neared the 12,084 summit (his lungs had long since acclimated to Fraser’s high elevation).  And I remember how he brought fresh pineapple to share with us once we reached the top (to this day one of the most refreshing repasts I have ever enjoyed) – how we felt truly “on top of the world” as we soaked up the 360-degree, cloud-draped panorama – how we gazed in amazement as an airplane flew by below us.  [Lesson learned: immersion into Big Nature can be strenuous, and yet it is always worth it]

 

*I could write about joining Todd on stage to sing karaoke at my cousin Emily’s wedding – how I was fully prepared to courageously help him belt out Prince’s classic “Kiss”, and yet how I was left almost speechless by how good Todd was.  He really did sound just like Prince – so much so that I remember standing there next to him, half the time with my mouth agape in awe and half the time laughing hysterically with joy. [Lesson learned:  remember to sing, and when you do, remember to sing all out]

 

*I could write about Todd coming to visit me at the Borders bookstore where I was living in Kailua-Kona back in 2004 – how he put me in his truck and drove me to Kealakekua Bay and swam with me out into “the Deep Blue”. There is something magically different about water that is over a mile deep – it takes on a silvery translucence and embodies a velvety softness that I haven’t seen or felt anywhere else in the world. Back then I was deathly afraid of swimming in water where I couldn’t see the bottom, and without Todd’s encouragement that day, it is quite possible that I would never have experienced that Bliss.  [Lesson learned: it is a great service to hold another’s hand while they face their fears]

 

* And I could write about the time we borrowed a friend’s 4×4 truck and drove to the Green Sands Beach near the southern-most point of the Big Island – how we were the only ones there that morning – how we both took off all our clothes and buried ourselves in the green sand (which is comprised almost completely of the gemstone called peridot) – how we thoroughly soaked up the warmth and the Love that are so fully alive in that place.  [Lesson learned: go to places of immense Beauty – and then have both the humility & the courage to become One with them]

 

Yes, I could write about all those memories, and indeed many more, and yet I think the most fitting final tribute to Todd must somehow involve telling the tale of the last time I saw him – and the last time we parted ways …

“I cannot explain it beyond your willingness to understand it.” ~ Todd

 

In the late fall of 2007, I had been asked to house-sit for some friends who were heading to Ireland for an extended visit (and possibly a permanent move) thereto. They had two amazing dogs who needed to be cared for while they were away, and I joyfully agreed to do so.   The house in question was located on a mountain slope at the end of a road in the “jungly” southwestern region of the Big Island of Hawaii.  I was given no money (though my friends did graciously buy me enough food for the first few months) and I had no transportation down the mountain. While I could hear my neighbors on occasion, I only actually saw one other human being (a UPS driver) one time for the first two+ months of my stay.  I wrote every morning & every evening, and cared for the dogs and tended the land during each day. It was one of the more Peace-full times of my life – a time I still recall with great fondness.

Then, in early January of 2008, I received an email from Todd, wondering where I was and how I was doing. After emailing him my location and asking him where he happened to be, he informed me that he was temporarily staying just a few miles away!  I hadn’t seen Todd in over a year at that point, and had lost track of his whereabouts, so I was thrilled at the prospect of seeing him again. I invited him to come visit, and – after receiving permission from the homeowners – he moved in with me shortly thereafter.

 

Now for anyone who knew Todd from roughly 2002 to 2010, what I am about to share will be no surprise.  For others, it might prove to be a bit shocking … When Todd came to live with me, I knew he had been suffering from clinical depression and alcoholism for many years previously. What I didn’t know was that he had also developed a mental challenge labeled by some “psychological professionals” as “bipolar schizophrenia” (bordering on multiple-personality disorder). Essentially, in response to an immense trauma that he had suffered (I believe sometime in the summer of 2004, though possibly earlier than that), Todd had developed two distinctly different personalities – one of which was kind & gentle & funny & fun-loving; the other of which was “dark” & morose & negative & Machiavellian.  And unsurprisingly, whenever Todd would drink alcohol, the latter personality would surface (something which happens to quite a few folks I know when they drink, actually, albeit to a lesser degree).

Even though I was not aware of the severity of his condition when he came to live with me then, I knew generally of his troubles, so he & I had established some general behavioral guidelines for his stay.  Basically, while he was living there with me, he was not to drink at all. I made it clear that I would keep Loving him unconditionally if he did choose to drink, but that he would have to do so away from the house and that he could return only after having sobered up. He agreed to this proposal, and moved in …

And to my jubilant surprise, Todd didn’t drink at all for the first 59 days of our time together. Even though he obviously suffered physically as a consequence of that withdrawal, he stayed completely sober for almost two full months!  And in that time, the strong-yet-playful, fun-loving & gentle “real Todd” was back in full force.

I had done some work clearing the land before his arrival, but with his help we turned an overgrown jungle into a place of stunning Wonder.  In the 1000+ hours of labor we invested together, we pruned and burned tons of Brazilian Pepper Tree branches – dead growth that had completely obscured a number of hidden treasures; including fruit trees, ancient Hawaiian rock walls, beautiful mossy stones and long-untended flower gardens. Every day we would wake up, eat breakfast, and get to work. And every late-afternoon we would marvel at the ever-more-stunning Beauty of the land we had cleansed … Our evenings were filled with music and good talks and laughter, and upon waking the next morning, we would simply get up do it all over again …

Needless to say, those were truly very Good Days.

 

I won’t go into too much detail regarding what happened next, though it is by far the most important thing I have to share. Essentially, Todd’s demons were very strong ones – much stronger than I had originally thought, and even stronger than he chose to admit.  And by early March, after roughly 60 days of fully functional living, these demons were tired of being pushed into the background of Todd’s life.  I left for a speaking engagement on the mainland that month, and returned to find Todd a changed man … I think partly because he was so alone there, and partly because we had done almost all the work on the land there was to be done, he had begun drinking again. And as a consequence, his “alter ego” had returned in all its dark potency.

And it was here that I didn’t know exactly what to do, and it was here that I made some very big mistakes … mistakes I do not necessarily regret (after all, I really did try hard to “do right” by Todd), and yet mistakes I would definitely correct were I to be given the chance.

In essence, to battle his growing wave of shadow, I tried to funnel Todd’s energies into additional acts of Kindness for the homeowners.  Unfortunately, Todd’s idea of what was “best” for their belongings were often not in harmony with how they wanted their possessions to be handled.  For example, after receiving permission to remove a moldy carpet while I was away, Todd decided to also repaint the entire room in some truly funky colors (sincerely believing that he had received permission to do so) … Or, after receiving permission to cleanse a few crystals in the living room, Todd also decided to rearrange all the furniture.

Sometimes he would do these things when I was away, and yet even when I was present, I didn’t really know how best to respond. Admittedly, in the first few weeks of recognizing this shift in Todd, I treated him with “kid gloves”. I was afraid that I would push him further into depression if I was firm & consequent with his more destructive behaviors. I focused on the joyful in him when it surfaced (which is always good thing to do), and yet I also chose to ignore the manipulative in him when it returned. I simply refused to address it – hoping that his “darkness” would just go away; a passiveness which enabled that shadow-self to grow that much stronger.  And then, when I did finally have the courage to address his dysfunction, I did so in a somewhat critical, somewhat judgmental manner – a choice that made matters even worse.

Eventually, word got back to the homeowners (through their daughters, who occasionally brought fresh food for the dogs) about not only how beautiful their gardens now looked, but also what was happening to the inside of their home. I tried to enlist Todd’s help in putting things back in order, and yet he took the suggestion personally, and angrily refused. This dysfunction continued to escalate until he was ordered by my friends to leave the premises in mid-April of that year.

I still remember sitting on the porch and watching him walk away. I still remember watching him walk down that road and me calling out to him and telling him I loved him and wishing him well.  I still remember how he turned to me after I did so – how he looked back and gave me kind of a half-wave with the saddest eyes.

I still remember wishing I had done things differently …

I still remember wishing I could have done more to help him help himself …

I still remember wishing I had just Loved him even more.

 

“I carry you with me into the world, my Friend …
into the smell of rain, and the words that dance between people.
And for me, it will always be this way …
Walking in the light …
Remembering being alive together”
~ Brian Andreas

 

Filed under: A Tribute to Todd by Scaughdt