A New Journey

Oct. 20, 1975-April 10, 2013 GRAND JUNCTION, Colo. – Zachariah Lawrence Walker died Wednesday, April 10, 2013, at age 37. He left us the way he lived: gently and peacefully, surrounded by love. Though Z’s life was cut short by the complexities of leukemia and Crohn’s disease, he lived deeply and joyfully. A lifetime of health challenges did not diminish his spirit and zest for life. He was a teacher, adventurer, traveler, writer, poet, DJ, yogi, healer, mystic and mentor.
Born Oct. 20, 1975, in Missoula, Zack completed his primary and secondary education, graduating from Hellgate High School in 1994. He attended the University of Montana, and – interspersing his classroom experience with periods of work, travel and livin’ life – he completed a degree in education. Several years later he became a certified yoga instructor and healing arts practitioner.
Despite childhood diagnoses of ulcerative colitis and a red blood cell disorder, followed by numerous surgeries and hospitalizations, Zachariah always emerged determined to get back into the sunshine and on the trail to pursue his next adventure. He was an avid backpacker, mountain biker, whitewater rafter and sun worshipper. In his early 20s he worked in Antarctica and backpacked throughout New Zealand. Several years later he undertook a two-month solo tour of southern Europe. At that time he started a blog and resumed it in 2012 to share his final challenge during the past year.
Zachariah devoted his professional life to service. He worked for the Vermont Youth Conservation Corps and taught children’s ski lessons at Stowe; he was a classroom teacher of math, science, social studies and outdoor education in Delta and Grand Junction schools for several years; he was a community organizer for the Colorado Environmental Coalition; he taught yoga and wellness at Yoga West Collective and Crossroads Fitness Center; he sponsored an inspirational film series at Yoga West; and he volunteered with KAFM community radio of Grand Junction.
For more than 20 years Zachariah was actively involved with The Youth Rally, an annual camp for youth ages 11-17 with bowel and bladder dysfunction. He served as a counselor, adviser, inspirational speaker and mentor to young adults with ostomies and autoimmune diagnoses.
Zachariah is survived by his beloved Larkin Beaman of Grand Junction; his parents, Annette and John Walker of Missoula; his sister Loralei Walker (Bridget Korman) of Olympia, Wash.; grandfather Lawrence Walker of Meredith, N.H., as well as several aunts, uncles, cousins, a vast community of friends and loved ones, and his dog, Beacon.
A private service was held April 12 at the Hospice Care Center in Grand Junction. Two celebrations of Zachariah’s life are planned: in Grand Junction on May 18 and in Missoula on June 15. Details will follow. Zachariah’s ashes will be scattered in the mountains of Montana and Colorado.
The family suggests memorial donations to The Youth Rally by visiting www.rally4youth.org, click Donate Now, under Program select “Camper Registration Fee,” in memory of Zachariah Walker; or to Hospice of Western Colorado, 3090 N. 12th St., Grand Junction, CO 81506 or visit www.hospicewco.com and select “Give a Gift.”

Death of a Loved One

(This post originally appeared in the Grand Junction Free Press on April 24, 2013)  

            My best friend Zachariah Walker died one week ago this past Wednesday.  I have written four previous Free Press articles about his struggle with leukemia, and now suddenly there it is, on the page in front of me, looking back at me like some kind of silent observer waiting to see how I respond.  I see the words as they dare me to fully embrace the emotions that stir up, unfettered.  The truth is, I feel agonized and sad.  He was and is such a catalyst for me, that I now feel a tremendous void in my life.  There are many who must be feeling this void, evidenced by the outpouring of appreciation and love coming forth.  And so I look back at my first words, feeling again the disbelief that he is gone from physical existence on this planet.  I feel the defense of denial and I find myself wondering, what is it that others who knew him are feeling?  How are they grieving the passage of this loved one?  And how are you the reader dealing with losses in your own life?  While I acknowledge that this article is in part a personal catharsis, it is also a ripe opportunity for you to explore your own experience in the most sacred and feared of realms, the process of death and dying. 

Although grief is a fundamentally solitary experience, there is fascinating wisdom in watching grief play out.  It is in becoming the observer, in witnessing the throes of grief in myself that I am revealed the beginnings of transformation.  In watching people mourn, with some I am resonating deeply.  In others, I am simply viewing their grief process in a distant, compassionate way.  And beyond the disbelief of this moment, I have been feeling not only the whitewater of rage, anxiety, and agony, but also the calm eddies of relief, humor, peace, joy, celebration and more.  What a wondrous, agonizing, divine and terrible experience, all at once.  I can see that I am so deeply in this grief process that my objectivity is skewed and my perceptions of reality altered.  There is no logic to the emotions present.  I have experienced minutes oozing by, often determining with difficulty when recent events occurred.  It is an ongoing flow of altered time and space, now verifying what I have heard others describe when a great departure comes.  It is a deeply fascinating process, of how I am “hanging” with grief. 

            Loss is a unique experience

So what happens when you lose a loved one?  Is it a soul mate, a partner or even a cat, dog or horse, more dearly felt than any human in your life?  Studies have shown that everyone grieves differently, as uniquely as each of our lives.  People follow (or don’t) a course of illogical, irrational and emotional experience that unfurls of its own accord.  The text On Death and Dying comes to mind, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ pinnacle achievement which helps to explain some of the normal and common processes that comes with loss; namely, the stages of Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance, experienced in no particular order or completeness.  We may experience denial that the person has departed as a survival mechanism, feel anger at the abandonment, attempt to bargain that things would have been different “if only,” or feel flat out depressed at the injury.  Since people sometimes report even more convoluted and wild journeys of grief, just remember that your voyage is distinctly your own.  

            I participate in an on-line forum at www.beingthere.net and www.emotionschool.com, skillfully facilitated by local licensed therapists Donna and Stephen BE.  It is an incredible resource that I highly recommend.  If you need help in understanding your emotional process, which at least 99% of us do, please investigate these rich resources.  It is in my personal sessions with Donna that I have learned one tremendous and very valuable lesson; that there is a difference between the process of dying, and the event of death.  No matter how much I prepared for Zachariah’s departure, it was (and is) a big shock.  The mental process that is the preparation for loss is nothing like the tremendous and deeply emotional event that has so decisively affirmed his mortality.  Wow, what an experience, and what a teacher it is becoming. 

            Good Grief, Charlie Brown.

            The great author and teacher of Plant Spirit Medicine, Eliot Cowan, returned into my life yesterday at the wonderful Water Comes First seminar held at the Radio Room.  There he revealed that grief itself is the healer.  In a poignant moment, he taught that the unrestrained, boundless and welcomed throes of letting it all fall apart become deep medicine for us.  I know that it is not only important to let this process unfold, but also that it is dangerous to attempt to restrain it.  Perhaps the Lutheran minister conducting my uncles’ funeral said it best by saying “Now remember to grieve, otherwise it will come out crooked.”

            There is no doubt that the loss of anything of importance in our lives comes with a natural process of hurt and pain.  It is also a course of evolution, of which I am just beginning to understand.  The effect on my own life and others is so mysterious as to nearly escape description or capture into these words.  For this unfolding growth, I am deeply grateful.  I miss you, my friend.  For those of you who are grieving, I am with you.