Destruction and Growth

by Kory Madden (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find USA

My youngest brother had committed suicide less than a month before, and I was still an emotional wreck when I boarded the plane from North Carolina to Oregon to visit Peter. I was hoping that the trip would help in some way. I wasn’t sure how (or if anything would even be able to), but Peter and I always had fun together and I was excited to see him. On the second day we set off on an impromptu road trip down the coast of Oregon in Peter’s white 1986 Volvo, which he had affectionately named “Pearl,” heading down the Oregon coast and dipping into northern California to see the redwoods before heading back to Peter’s home in White Salmon, Washington. As I ran my fingers over the balding tires before we left, I was admittedly worried that Pearl, who was 5 years my senior and had 350,000 miles on the odometer, wouldn’t survive the journey, but Peter didn’t doubt her at all. He was right not to because she didn’t ever give any inclination that she would let us down the entire trip, and 500 trouble-free miles later we were steadily climbing toward Crater Lake. The highway cut a small, straight sliver of skyline through the pines as we sped northward. A thin layer of smoke hung in the air and we could smell the wildfires burning to the south. The sun had just started to set as we pulled up to Crater Lake, and the sunset continued to intensify as the sun sank further behind the mountains to the west. The light from the wildfires added a rich red color to the sunset, and the smoky atmosphere captured all of it. The skyline was filled with the most vibrant purples, reds, and oranges that I had ever seen. As we made our way around the lake stopping at every overlook, I was completely overwhelmed by the majesty before me. On one side of the road was the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen, setting the sky ablaze atop the rolling darkness of the sprawling mountains below; on the other Crater Lake glowed below a full moon that burned bright red. It was an intensely powerful moment for me, and as Crater Lake grew smaller in the rearview mirror I began to reflect on the impact of the wildfires. I thought about the homes they had destroyed and the lives they claimed as they raged to the south. They had created so much pain and suffering for so many, but they also helped create the most beautiful scene that I’d ever experienced at a time when I really needed it. Even outside of the experience they created for me, I thought about how the wildfires would also enrich the soil and allow for new growth. I realized that they weren’t just some terrible tragedy—some unstoppable force of destruction that caused nothing but mayhem. Within their tragedy was a blessing, and that duality belonged to all things. I was finally able to accept that there were positive outcomes from my brother’s death, even if they were difficult to recognize at that moment. I had choked down tears throughout our trip, waiting for a time when I could safely let them flow in seclusion. I had felt the need to cry incessantly for days and successfully held the tears at bay, but as we drove away from Crater Lake it felt as if a tsunami was swelling in my throat. It took everything I had to keep myself from weeping and wailing, and I probably should have just given in and let it out. But I was too proud to show that kind of “weakness,” as I considered it at the time, so I kept my feelings of sorrow and gratitude and love and loss to myself as a single tear rolled down my cheek.