Home - The Road Goes On

Johns Island, SC

Waking up on Day 26 we felt so close to home - even at 546 miles away. Gratefully, the ride from Lexington, KY to Johns Island, SC (home) went by pretty quickly given the distance. 

Leaving Lexington the weather was uncooperative to say the least. From the hotel parking lot to the Tennessee State line we would be in heavy rain with occasional torrents. Rains so bad it forced you to reduce speed to about 40 mph, set your warning flashers to alert other vehicles, and get those hands on the wheel at 10 and 2 because at any point you could feel your steering wheel go limp through a brief hydroplane; arguably one of the most unsettling feelings in the World. White knuckle driving down a four lane mountain highway in a monsoon; anything but boring. As Conor and I trolled along Interstate 77 in the right lane doing between 40 and 45 mph with the flashers on as described above, a brand new Chevrolet Suburban went by us in the left lane running 65 mph or better - blasting down the highway in this heavy storm. 10 to 15 minutes later, still pouring down rain, that same Suburban was on the right shoulder of the road turned on its side; the undercarriage facing the road. Fortunately two other motorists were stopped and assisting. As we were pulling through I was considering stopping also, but then saw the driver calmly standing on the side of the road talking with his would-be rescuers in the pouring rain with his hands on his hips - still no police or fire on the scene. I muttered out loud the first thing that came to mind... "Asshole." 

As we cleared the accident site I looked in the rearview and saw flashing lights cresting the ridge. "Onward" I thought. We'd already been slowed enough...

Once into Tennessee the rains lessened and the late morning sun began to pierce the clouds and cast a sea of light across the Smokey Mountains. While the Smokies certainly don't carry the same majesty of the Rockies, they offer a unique scenery all their own. There's a reason they're called the "Great Smokey Mountains" after all. We passed through a series of tunnels and the weather changed as quickly as the scenery. Suddenly the white knuckled 10 and 2 grip on the steering wheel became a relaxed scenic drive through mountain passes sparsely shadowed by small wispy clouds.

As anyone who's been on a long road trip knows, your mind tends to wander while you're at the wheel. Well, I'm a movie guy. In fact, I could likely carry on an entire conversation quoting movie lines. One such thought came to mind thinking back to Tom Cruise and Robert Duvall chattering on the radio in the final race of "Days of Thunder". As I looked in the rear view and saw the fading black clouds making way for blue skies and sunshine I thought, "I'm through it, Harry! I'm outta here!!!". My right foot hit the floor and Ms. Sylvia growled to life; roughly three hours had passed since leaving Lexington, "time to make up some time!", I thought.

Aside from a fair bit of road construction around Ashville, NC we sailed along at 85 mph for nearly 4 hours straight. As we approached the I-77 and I-26 interchange just outside of Columbia, SC it was nearing 4pm and rush-hour. Where these two interstates converge there are 7 or 8 lanes of traffic. The entire left hand side of the highway was all cars and trucks slowing to a crawl to zip together through their merge. Meanwhile, I'm still on cruise control and just starting to slow when I see a large opening ahead and note that the entire right lane was wide open! I shot out to the right, put my foot on the floor once more, and blew by the entire mass-merge between 90 and 95 mph; all the while praying I don't go screaming past a cop. The next thing I know the highway is six lanes across, 3 lanes in either direction, and I'm back to 80 mph with the cruise control set in the left lane. Suddenly I glance in my rear view and I see a black Toyota Tundra flying up on me at about 100 mph flashing his lights. "This dude is in a real hurry!" I thought, so I pull to the right to let him pass. As the Tundra moved along side of me, the window came down and I looked over and saw my neighbor and dear friend, Jon Collins, smiling and laughing! And we're still two hours from home!!

Jon's Tundra fell back behind Ms. Sylvia and from there the ride became a whole lot more fun. After all, I was getting a personal escort back to the Lowcountry from a close friend who's been along on our Healing Road since the very beginning. And he just happened to be leaving Columbia to head back to Johns Island around the time we would be coming through... So much more than coincidence, I think. There was a grace in it. Another moment on this amazing road that's been chock full of unique "coincidences".  A foul ball at the Nationals game, finding an Ammonite fossil in West Virginia, the bison eating dandelions alongside Lake Yellowstone after a conversation about reincarnation. We all believe different things as it relates to philosophy and theology and chance. There are no wrong answers as far as I'm concerned. I believe we forge our destinies based on our decisions and our actions, and that the better you give, the better you get. I see evidence of it all the time. That's just my truth I suppose, and if our journey has shown me anything, it's to live in that truth. Don't deny it or ignore it, but accept it, thrive in it and take any bumps in the road in stride. Metaphorically speaking - and then again not - any perfect stretch of road will eventually run into construction or at the very least, a pothole. That 20 minute slow down doesn't ruin the whole trip, it's just a part of it. But the road goes on.

Pulling onto Johns Island we never made the left toward home, electing instead to drive straight to our favorite place on the island, Low Tide Brewery on Maybank Highway. Jon was of course still in tow, and several of our other friends would drive up to celebrate our triumphant return, too. We were also met by the Olsons, the Fraziers, the Baxters, and of course, our friends in the brewery. We gave hugs, clinked glasses, and reveled in an otherwise successful trip. There was a grace in that homecoming too, and I am grateful for such wonderful friends in my and Conor's lives.

In all, we drove 8,433 miles in 26 days - which subsequently equaled only one oil change. I had the oil changed the day we left Charleston and reset the trip odometer from the facility. When we left Lexington on the morning of our arrival home the on-board computer showed "4% Oil Life". It flipped to "0% Oil Life" the moment we pulled into the Low Tide Brewing parking lot. Another coincidence? Because I can tell you it wasn't planned that way.

This entire adventure was so much more than an idea. The journey itself was more like a calling than an idea, in fact. I'm not sure why I thought this was what we needed to do, but the moment the thought entered my mind it grew roots and kept growing.  I would dream about preparing for such a journey, I would dream about where we would go and why, and I would dream about the purpose of it all, often imagining what success might look like. In reality, there's not a single thing I'd change about our Healing Road. Me and Conor and a truck which was was much a part of the story as we are - our trusted steed, Ms. Sylvia.

On our Healing Road, magic was everywhere - all we had to do was see it. Assuredly there's a much longer journey ahead of us, but the foundation has been laid. We'll stay on the road and without question, we'll never stop healing. But we'll never stop loving the road we're on, either. And that for me was the point of of this. "Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road." - Jack Kerouac  

Home, Day +1

This morning would be the first morning I've ever woken-up and felt alone. Lonely even... It was the first time I could remember experiencing a feeling of loneliness maybe ever in my life in fact. "A foreign emotion." I thought. There was an emptiness in the room I've never felt before. I suppose I'd been going so hard for so long that I never stopped to realize that I'm but a man filling every moment with a purpose so as to not have to face that reality. "I'm on my own." With Conor sleeping only steps away in the next room, all the family and friends in my life who've given us so much, the help and support I've received along the way. In spite of any of that I found myself in a void. A chill came over me and I sat up in bed rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "That just won't do", I thought to myself. I know I'm not alone. I quickly dismissed that notion and made my way to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

The house was quiet and comfortable. Many nights on the road I'd dreamt of simply relaxing in a family room chair with a hot cup of coffee and not even the hum of the air-conditioner to break the silence. This was that; a peaceful, quiet moment to sit and consider the last four years. All of it. Not only the Healing Road, but the reason for the Healing Road. "How'd we get here?" I asked myself. "And where is 'here', anyway? What's next?" I thought. 

When the peace and quiet of the house began to give way to the significantly louder more pressing matters of the day, I got up and went back to work. I needed to empty the truck, put things away, get laundry done, see about an oil change, and I would need to connect with my Father-in-Law, K9, about when to come to Beaufort and pick up the dogs, too. The day was very productive and I crossed out each item on my list, even going a step further and cleaning the truck inside and out, too. The day was hot, and I was happy to be on my home turf breathing in the rich humid salt air the Lowcountry provides. Working through these goals and getting out a really good sweat felt great. Feeling accomplished, I showered and put on my most comfortable clothes, sinking back into the family room chair with a sense of achievement and pride.

I called K9 and asked about coming to Beaufort the following evening to pick up the dogs and spend the night. He agreed, and we even laid out a plan. Mike and his son, Davis, would come too; they both know K9 and Mary Ellen and the opportunity to come along and hang out and tell stories sounded like fun!

If you go back to the very beginning of this blog - Day 1 - The Ghosts of Carolina - I mentioned Conor and I would leave from Beaufort, affording us the opportunity to leave the dogs with my in-laws before setting out the following day. Unfortunately my mother-in-law, Mary Ellen, had fallen ill that day, and K9 got her to the hospital only to learn she had double pneumonia and that she would be required to stay in the hospital for the coming days. He came back to the house for the night to see us off and to pass along Mary Ellen's love and wishes as well. We enjoyed the evening, successfully transitioned the dogs from one house to the other, and felt comfortable shoving off down our Healing Road, even without Mary Ellen being home to see us off. Sadly, Mary Ellen would not return to her home on Lady's Island, SC. In fact, she was moved from the hospital to a rehab facility to assist her in gaining the strength she would need to climb the five stairs leading to the front door of their Lowcountry home, but then a setback would see her back in the hospital again. 

When I spoke to K9 in the late afternoon he mentioned Mary Ellen was due for surgery for an ulcer in her esophagus and that this was the reason he was home at 6pm - ordinarily electing to stay at the hospital with her until the evening hours. But because she would be in surgery and recovery long past his usual stay, he thought to come home. We talked about what the surgery would entail, the plan to recovery and what's next, and then we focused on our visit, planning to meet out for dinner prior to coming to the house to see the dogs and spend the night. We said goodnight and looked forward to the coming day.

Two hours later K9 called me back. "Sad news I'm afraid, Shane." he said fighting through tears. "She didn't make it'...." 

The line fell silent. K9 said nothing but I could hear him on the line. I had no response, either. We both just sat there a long moment. The silence was like a chasm, and then all at once it was familiar. Empty. After talking another minute I quietly hung up the phone, placed my face in my hands, and felt another wave of sadness wash over me. My body physically shook. In that moment - my physical manifestation of still more sadness - I picked my head up and took a deep breath.

Conor lay across the room on the couch watching a movie on his tablet; headphones on, blissfully unaware of my conversation with his Grandfather. And now I had to tell him another of his people, someone he loves deeply, had passed on... A sense of dread came over me and I paused; I had to think for a moment on how to deliver this message. 

"Conor..." I said. He took off his headphones and could see the look on my face, "What is it, Dad? Is it Memeow?" (his pet-name for his Grandmother.) "It is." I said. "She didn't make it through her surgery, Bud. I'm sorry..." The words fell flat. The color left his cheeks and his lips curled downward; they began to quiver as though attempting to hold back a well of emotions behind a dam that will inevitably break. He then buried his head into my chest and started sobbing. I said the only thing that seemed to make sense. "She needed to be with Mommy, Conor. She didn't want Mommy to be all alone." He looked up at me and the heartbreak was all over his face. "Why does this keep happening?!" he said through tears. I tried feebly to explain that this is just a time and place in life, and like all things this time will pass, but it didn't matter. Words offer little consolation when experiencing the loss of a loved one - a reality we now know too well...

Mary Ellen Ruth Smith-Dougherty Kindsfater was a proud nurse, a Gold-Star wife, twice a Marine Corps Officer's wife (she never could refuse a man in a flight suit - her words!), a friend, a partner, an exceptional mother, a doting mother-in-law, and a deeply loving grandmother. Mary Ellen was 72 years old; she and K9 were together 45 years. 

Sara is Mary Ellen's only child and theirs was a life of both sacrifice and love. They shared a commitment to family, God, country, and the United States Marine Corps. It occurred to Conor almost immediately that he's the last of his kind, (so to speak). If you recall from an earlier entry, Conor's natural Grandfather, Lieutenant Daniel "Doc" Dougherty, USMC, was killed in his F4 Phantom when Sara was only three years old; K9 later adopted Sara. Conor realized this and I saw the same shroud of loneliness that cloaked me earlier in the day beginning to come over him. I said, "You have a tremendous responsibility to your family name, Conor. Doc's bloodline is within you. And Doc, Memeow, and Mommy are all together in Heaven now. You know what they're most interested in? You. They're always watching over you, Conor. You are NEVER alone."

I'm writing this from Beaufort, SC - K9 and Mary Ellen's home on Lady's Island. Conor and I arrived yesterday afternoon and the three of us - me, Conor, and K9 - all sat on the back porch in the Lowcountry Summer swelter not saying a whole lot of anything. Conor sipped a root beer, K9 sipped a whiskey, and I drank a cold beer or two. Then K9 and I lit cigars and considered everything; this hand we've all been dealt... Conor and I discussed it on the way to Beaufort actually - we thought, maybe Grandpa should move in with us? We have the room, certainly. Maybe we can help each other out! 

Now, I know K9 pretty well. He's not only my father in law, he also happens to be one of my favorite people on the planet. Dick "K9" Kindsfater is nothing if not unique, and I have a tremendous amount of respect and reverence for him, as well as a firm understanding of his stubbornness. When Conor and I asked if maybe he'd like to move in with us, I wasn't at all surprised when he declined. But he agreed we could help one another out, and committed to coming to Charleston to stay time and again, as long as we would do the same and come to Beaufort on occasion and visit. "It's a deal", I said.

For K9 there's a Healing Road between Lady's Island, SC and Johns Island, SC, and he's just getting started. But he'll catch up pretty quick, I think - Conor and I aren't all that far ahead of him. So we'll take this road together. Not because misery loves company. In fact, I don't even believe in that at all. But what I do believe is that through love, all healing is possible. Our little family has been been dealt a pretty tough hand, but we three amigos have a strong constitution, we love one another, and we'll travel this long road with both love and remembrance.

Rest in Peace, Mary Ellen. Thank you for the many gifts you've given to me. For without you to give me Sara to give me Conor, I'd be on a different road all together.

The Healing Road goes on. And it always will...

Thank you for reading "On the Healing Road". We look forward to seeing you out there...