Ithaca on Patrol

              We returned from the search at what must have been 2 in the morning. I did not return home but just sat in a chair at 660 feeling miserable and empty. I had not eaten at all that day but I had no appetite and I knew that sleep wouldn't come. I called my dad on his cell at 4:30 in the morning and sure enough he was still awake as well. He assured me he was to leave at 6 the following morning so he would get to Ithaca by noon. There was nothing else to say. After hanging up I went outside to lay on Chris's trampoline that a few of his high school friends and I had helped him to set up half a week ago. The joy that trampoline brought him was incredible and the extreme flips he performed on it were an amazing spectacle to behold. He gained height so effortlessly and landed so gracefully that he could have easily been a Cirque du Soleil performer.
               I lay awake on the trampoline watching the stars and longing for Chris to show up in the dead of night to lay by my side. I was broken in so many ways and more alone than I had ever felt in my life. It was as if a force had sucked out my soul but had mercilessly spared my life. I wished more than anything that Chris had woken me up so that I could have drowned with him or in place of him. I would have given my life to save him if I'd had the chance.
               The following morning the search began at 8 am. This time there were over 150 people at Sheldrake point and many more on their way. Again I felt as though the west shore was being vastly overemphasized and insisted that more people follow me to the east shore. I managed to get six carloads of people in addition to my own to caravan behind me on our way to the other side.
               On my way there I got at least four texts from volunteers asking where to go and a phone call from Chris's cousin in Singapore asking for updates. I directed people as best as I could and had one of my passengers text back as I drove. As soon as we got to the site I set up a group textserve with the numbers of each of the predetermined point people from each car. As we started our transect I was relieved when *****'s dad called and asked me if I'd board his motorboat to direct him to the relative location where the canoe was found.
               I felt much more at ease once in the water. The limits of the shoreline no longer impeded my ability to search. After half an hour on the water *****'s dad docked at O'Malley's to wait for kayakers whom he intended to escort across the lake. I went to wait at the restaurant but still could not bring myself to eat anything. Once the kayakers were ready we reboarded the motorboat and headed back to the east shore. Once there I swapped with one of the kayakers into the same orange kayak that I had used to search for Chris the previous day. And so I paddled along with *****'s brother and another friend of Chris to scan the shoreline and the underside of every dock we passed until we made it to the power plant. From there we kayaked back to the west shore to the lakehouse property.
                Once we got back I caught a ride with ***** to 660. Chris's dog Luca was there looking lost and confused. It was as if he questioned why we had come back without Chris. I sat clutching him on the couch for awhile before taking him out on a walk. The weather was appropriately bleak and though it was not raining I could feel the grim clouds emulating my emotions. Luca and I circled west campus before heading to my apartment at sage place. Chris's girlfriend was there and I hugged her without saying a word. I was glad to have Luca with me but I knew I had to take him back to his family since they were back in town. So I walked him back to 660 to get my car and drive him the rest of the way to Chris's house where I met up with his dad. He hugged me and thanked me for taking care of Luca but words still evaded me. "I'm afraid that Ithaca has lost a very special young man" he said and I nodded in absolute agreement.

The Search Begins

            The beginning of the search party took a painfully long time to organize. The sheriff showed up late and so I was uncertain of how I should handle the volunteers. After many phone calls and few confirmations I was deeply afraid that there were not sufficient numbers to make the search effort worthwhile. As the time neared 7:30 only eight people had shown up. But my apprehensions were cleared as the evening bore on and soon close to 75 were congregated at Sheldrake point. I was glad to see the turnout but was anxious to have people start searching since daylight was rapidly dwindling.

             It was close to 9 pm by the time search groups were set up and destinations along the west shore were designated. I felt as though I had lost my voice as I tried insisting on getting a group to go with me to the east shore where I felt was the most likely place where Chris might be found. I was close to going by myself but eventually managed to convince a couple folks to come with me. After acquiring contact information for the people who were already on the east shore I set off with my small crew. Unfortunately my car was nearly out of gas and so I frantically looked for a station to refill the tank. The first one I found was closed and I was deeply scared that I might run out of gas and not be able to make it to the other shore. The next station was well-lit though, which was a great relief. I hastily popped the gas cap and began to pump. Normally I would have written down my gas mileage for my dad's records but I had no time now. As soon as the tank was full I jumped back in the car and continued on.

             It was an hour before I made it since we had to drive through the center of Ithaca once more to a road I was not familiar with. As I was driving a friend called me asking how he could get involved in the search and so I coordinated with him as I drove. We met up outside a small grocery store near the street I was looking for but I had accidentally typed the destination in my phone as ridge road instead of nut ridge rd, which is where we were supposed to be. And so we started bushwhacking to try and get to the lake when we were much further than we thought. Frustrated and terrified I directed everyone back and we headed further north where I finally found the people I was looking for at the end of Nut Ridge rd. We coordinated transects starting on different streets and I had my crew members take down their numbers in case we needed help since my phone was nearly dead again.

              At long last I was able to start searching the area that I had a gut feeling would be where Chris was. I walked along the dry ground for awhile and attentively checked the docks, screaming his name at the top of my lungs every few minutes. As we walked further we encountered areas where the brush growing along the water's edge became so thick that it inhibiting our view of the shore. Without a second thought I stripped off my socks, replaced my sneakers and walked into the water. It was cold but Chris was well worth the discomfort. I shined my light into the water desperately trying to find a sign of him. The fright was getting to me though since I was not prepared to find him dead. I carried on like this continuing to call his name until I was no longer functional. I screamed and thrashed in agony realizing that Chris was gone forever and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. It was then that one of my friends on shore jumped down socks, boots and all to hug me. I did not know how to react. I was beyond consolation.

The Incident

            On May 22nd of this year my best friend, Chris Dennis, drowned in Cayuga Lake the week before we were both set to graduate. What was meant to be a week of celebration suddenly turned into a traumatic week of despair and the course of my life changed forever.

            On the eve of his disappearance we had been enjoying a campout at our friend's lake house property. It was potluck style and a huge number of people from the 660 and Von Kramm cooperatives as well as old Ithaca High School friends had shown up with their favorite dishes. After dinner a lot of folks left but around 10 of us stayed.

            As the sky began to darken we saw thunder rolling in from across the lake. It was quite the sight to behold and both Chris and I took pictures of the thunderbolt striking over the water. The rain followed shortly after in a downpour. Most of us retreated to the roof overhanging the shed but Chris remained exposed to the rain. Shirtless and drenching wet he was hovering over the fire as if he was trying to summon some force from within it. It was a very Chris-like behavior that entertained us as we huddled in what small shelter we had.

             When the rain subsided we gradually prepared for bed. A few of us went on a drive to drop off the soggy wet Black Lab at his house. When we got back a number of folks had already gone to bed. I tried to find my spot where I had laid down my sleeping bag but to no avail. Most of the night I couldn't sleep because I was so cold and Chris, probably restless from his damp shorts, couldn't sleep either. He eventually left the tent and I asked if I could borrow his sleeping bag until he got back. He was still missing his shirt though so he wrapped his sleeping bag around his shoulders, but enough people were aroused that I was able to find out where my own sleeping bag was and reclaim it.

              Chris poked his head back in to ask if anyone wanted to help him pitch a second tent. I offered to help and we made motions to start one before he said that he wasn't interested in sleeping in it but was just pitching it if someone else wanted it. Since I figured there was plenty of room in the big tent we abandoned the second one. I looked at him one last time and he said he was planning to stay awake. I figured he was planning to photograph the sunrise so I went back inside and finally fell asleep in the warmth of my sleeping bag. This action I have regretted every day since that night.

             The following morning I woke up around 9 am and noticed Chris's absence. I walked up the slope to check his car and saw only his dog, Luca, inside it. I wondered if he'd gone on a hike. It wasn't until everyone woke up that someone mentioned that Chris had poked his head in again to ask if anyone wanted to go paddling. That was when I saw that the canoe was missing and I was immediately concerned. The others figured Chris was just adventuring on his own and would be back soon but I did not feel comfortable leaving. I took the orange kayak and paddled where my gut told me to go.

              When I was out on the water I knew that I had to make use of the motorboaters since their efficiency was far greater than my own. I flagged one down and told them my friend had taken a canoe out on his own five hours ago and we hadn't seen him since. I asked if he'd seen him and he said he hadn't but would keep an eye out. That is when I thought that Chris likely tried to cross the lake so I paddled towards the east shore. But as I did so I saw a second motor boat coming from the North along the south shore so I doubled back to get within earshot. After asking them if they'd seen Chris they also said they hadn't but they made a U-turn and went searching. 

              About ten minutes later they came back and waved at me. When they got closer I saw that they were hauling a capsized canoe behind them and my heart sank. I refused to lose hope straight away since I did not yet have proof that it was the same canoe. But when they asked me if they should call 911 I responded affirmatively. While they were calling I paddled up to get a closer look at the overturned canoe and saw that there was "Great Race" sticker at the nose and was anxious to call ***** to deduce whether or not it was in fact his canoe. But I did not have my phone with me and could not recall his number. I was anxious to go back to shore to see if he was still there but given that we'd just called the police I couldn't leave. The passengers helped me to board their motorboat so I could talk to the interrogator. I was frustrated with myself that I could not give a more descriptive location since *****'s property did not have an exact address, all I could say is that it was at the end of a gravel road whose name I had forgotten that was across from Bellwether cider. As soon as I got off the phone with him I called my parents asking them to log into my facebook account to see if they couldn't find Jamie's number. When that failed I started rattling off other names of people on the shore and still no luck. Frustrated I began to yell at them wailing "look harder, my best friend might be dead!" but it was no use, I just had to wait through the most agonizing 40 minutes in a fetal position in the corner of the motorboat until an emergency boat finally came. I boarded immediately and helped them load my kayak. I thanked the motorboaters profusely for their help, then was taken to the dock at O'Malley's restaurant where more interrogators awaited me. I must have given the same story to at least four different people before they finally escorted me in a police vehicle to the lakehouse property where I was finally able to charge my phone and call *****.

               The first thing I asked him was whether his canoe had a "Great Race" sticker on it and he confirmed that it did. I couldn't believe it. I told him everything and that the sheriff wanted everyone to come to his office for questioning. They let me drive my own car this time and while I was driving I called Chris's girlfriend to deliver the saddest news I had the misfortune of being the bearer of. After speaking with her I broke down, gasping and sobbing as I tried to keep the wheel steady on the way to the sheriff's office.

               Once I got there I was questioned once again and then wrote up as detailed a statement as I could. I could hear my friends coming in as I sat typing up my account of the incident. When I was finished I went to join the others in the waiting room in silence. As soon as they were all finished being questioned we made our way back to the lakehouse property. On our way back Chris's brother called me and asked if I could help organize the search party. He and the rest of the family were in NYC for his sister's graduation but were doing everything they could to organize from afar. Without hesitation I agreed to help and so I spent the next 40 minutes charging my phone from my car and calling everyone I could think of to meet at Sheldrake point at 7 that evening (it was 5:30 at the time) to begin the search. Though I was already exhausted and entirely overwhelmed I knew I had to hold myself together awhile longer.

Preface

            I am writing this blog both to alleviate my own suffering but to also help those like me who are experiencing extreme grief. I will start off by saying that everyone has their own way of dealing with grief but it is a very personal experience. The best way to overcome it is to find inner strength rather than depend on other people to guide you out of misery. For those who are reading this as a way to try and help those who are grieving, the best advice I can give you is to accept that as much as you want to 'cure' a mourning friend or family member the extent to which you can do so is limited. The best way you can help is to be there for them when they ask but to give them their space when they need it. In time they will find themselves again and be stronger and wiser but in the moment they may feel more content in their sadness than in fabricated happiness. Thus if someone experiencing grief avoids their friends it does not mean that they devalue them but rather it is a sign that they are not ready to be happy again. When they are ready they will refind happiness on their own.

The title of this blog was inspired by this TED talk on grief that a good friend of mine shared with me. Follow the link below if you wish to watch it.
http://widowedvillage.org/forum/topics/video-ted-talk-about-grief