But there were a few moments of clarity I experienced that I’m certain will stay with me once the immediate trauma and grief has waned.
First, I realized that it is now more important than ever that I do not give up on my goals and that the work I do in the world is important. And furthermore, anything I accomplish from here on out will be in his honor.
Secondly, I realized how short life is and how suddenly it can go and in a weird way, that calmed me down. It made it clear that my time with my family and time I dedicate to anything is precious and I shouldn’t waste it worrying, but rather living to the fullest purpose.
The last realization I had was more of a calling — a primal pull back to the earth and roots and water. Back to nature.
Beau and I grew up with acres of wooded area behind our childhood home. And as any ’80s kid would, we spent hours of each day in those woods, unsupervised. We made forts, we climbed trees, and we started fires.
Later in life, once the activities that would entertain Cub Scouts no longer interested us, we still used the woods as a place of refuge. To talk, to escape troubles at home, and to smoke our first cigarettes and drink our first beers.
Beau and I also grew up with a river cottage (okay that sounds fancy, it was a single-wide trailer) on the Pungo River in Hyde County. We spent our summers fishing and crabbing, canoeing and boating, and exploring a new set of woods.
We stayed at summer camps learning to sail on the Neuse River. We went on regular camping trips with the Scouts and our First Baptist equivalent, the Royal Ambassadors (“RAs”).
We stayed in touch with our natural world daily.
As I aged and felt drawn to travel and urban life, I moved to New York City and started chasing my career goals. I still struggled with my country-boy heart, but I no longer made time for it. My boat sat under a shelter for years and my camping tent eventually fell apart. Hurricanes took my fishing rods and crab pots and I never replaced them. I had traded in my time in the woods for time spent in front of screens.
But Beau never gave up on it.
Instead of moving to a city, he bought five acres of land in Hillsborough. He always pushed me to go on hikes, get in a canoe, or just make a fire on his property. Often, I’d resist, but he always seemed to have a way to tap back into that country boy heart I had.
Even when my friends, now all nearing their 40s, started spending time camping or fishing and making it priorities in their lives again, I still watched from afar. I wanted to do it, too, but never made the time for it.
That all changed the week he died.
I’d been feeling the pull back to the woods deep inside my heart over the past few years. But when he passed, that quiet pull became a loud call.
A beckoning for me to come back to the roots.
I listened immediately and took my newborn son on a hike up Orange County’s Occoneechee Mountain — a hike that I had only performed with my brother.
Then, I booked a camping trip at Jordan Lake with my daughter for next weekend.
And I plan to make this a part of all of our lives. Because the connection with nature is one that cannot be explained, it must be felt. And it’s a tragedy that it is so neglected by folks like me.
But if it is sought out and established, the impact and effects are profound. It is where we find our true meaning. It is where we find our humanity.
All of life’s creatures are here to share the space and none of them are here for very long.
When we lean into the natural connection we inherently have with the trees, the earth, the water, and the sky, it can show us the most important lesson we can learn: life is about the quality of our years, not the quantity of them.
Rain Bennett is a two-time Emmy-nominated filmmaker, writer, and competitive storyteller with over a decade of experience producing documentary films that focus on health and wellness. His mission is simple: to make the world happier and healthier by sharing stories of change.
You can read the rest of “Right as Rain” here, and check back every Wednesday on Chapelboro for a new column!
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