Guardian Owl

My dads death saved my life.

Yes, that’s a bold statement to make and I’ll get to that part in more detail but you should know a few things about him first.

Growing up my dad was commonly know as the cool dad among my friends. The dad that made everyone laugh, the dad that brought the best snacks, the absolute life of the party.

We would go on camping trips and he would send us on quests to hunt for beer bottle caps around the empty sites. We would bring them back to him, hammer them into tree stumps and together we would look at the vast array of adult beverages consumed over the decades past. Us kids didn’t think about it that way then, we were just fascinated by all the names and styles of caps we could find. It was always a victory when you’d find a really old style that no one else found.

Every summer our family would rent a cottage in one of those cottage resorts up north. It was the greatest, my uncle and favorite cousins would come too and we would meet all the other families staying during the same week as us. At the end of the week there was a talent show and we would share ourselves with the little summer camp family community. My dad would dress in his leather coat, have a beer in hand, dance moves on point, and he would sing the Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. He would get the entire group riled up and excited about life, singing along to the oldies our parents loved.

Oh, how I wish he was here.

He took us tubing on the boat all summer long and would ensure they were the wildest rides where everyone got flung out at least once. He taught me how to waterski too, though I never mastered his trick of launching right off the dock and finishing his ski without getting anything but his feet wet. He hated the cold water but he loved being out in the sun, enjoying the fun with us.

My dad was an adventurous man and growing up I heard countless stories of his childhood mischief and his reckless abandon. He was a wild soul, a warrior spirit, and so much of that lives on in me.

When I was 17 he helped me fly to Australia on my first solo trip in this big world. I had been dreaming it up since I was in elementary school, and we made it happen. At the airport he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said “now look, when you see your friends together and partying back here, you remember that what you’re doing is so much better”. He told me he was proud of me and sent me off through the security line. I will always remember that moment because it wasn’t often that my dad shared vulnerable feelings with me. He preferred to be the fun party guy, the cool dad with the good jokes and nicknames for all my friends, the guy with the great adventure ideas, and a classic laugh.

Until things started to change and he couldn’t be that guy anymore.

In 2018 his family business was greatly impacted by the recession and he didn’t take it well. His fun times attitude and love of a good party turned into a numbing coping mechanism. He drank to forget that his business was suffering, to forget that his family needed more from him as we grew, and to forget that he didn’t follow all of his dreams.

I used to be mad at him for this but I’m not anymore. I understand why he chose that path. He didn’t have the tools or the skills to face his challenges head on. He wasn’t raised that way and he did the best he could with all the pain he held inside. He didn’t know how to face it and he didn’t know how to let it go.

Over the years my dad became less fun, and less adventurous. He started drinking more and more and eventually his body couldn’t take it anymore.

He passed away in his sleep due to heart failure.

I was 20 years old and I will never forget the look on my moms face when she pulled me out of a hair appointment, brought me into the family van where my brother was waiting, and told me the news. A giant “NOOOO” flung out of my body and my world was utterly shattered. The darkness set in and I vividly remember my peripheral vision shrinking.

I wasn’t on the best of terms with him when he died, and to be honest I was mad at him. Mad that he let it get that far, mad that he didn’t value his health, mad that I knew he wasn’t going to be there for me in the ways I would need him to be. Mad that he stayed in our family home as the rest of us moved out after my parents separation.

When I hurled out that cry my brother was so upset and I felt immediately guilty for reacting so strongly. My brother had even more reason to be mad than me, and so did my mom. This was a catalyst moment for my family. An ushering into a dark time where very little made sense and each of us lost a huge part of ourselves that day.

I won’t speak for my mom and brother but my path was to retreat into myself, into the darkness, into my grief, into a place where I genuinely believed I would never be happy again. I would sit in my room for hours simply thinking about how I would never hug my dad again.

I would never hug the man who half made me, ever. again.

How could that be?

How could I ever move forward?

I will feel like this forever, I thought.

Unfortunately, I started to lean on similar vices as my father. I always drank and partied a lot in my youth but I took it to a new level in the year after my dad died. I tried drugs I thought I would never try and I spent every weekend numbing the pain and trying to escape my grief, all while pretending I was doing pretty good.

Thankfully though, my dads soul wouldn’t allow it. He was still with me. My dad came to me in my dreams to help me understand his souls path. He pushed me in the right direction by nudging certain songs my way, or putting people on my path to let me know he was near. His energy was a force of nature that constantly reminded me that I was an adventurous soul, a woman of powerful presence, a person with a purpose much greater than I could imagine at the time.

Now, this might sound too mystical for some of you but it’s what happened to me and it saved my life. The spirit of the owl came to me and gifted me the meaning I needed to move forward with a sense of joy and aliveness after loss.

I started to see the owl everywhere. I would see real physical owls, I would be given owl earrings, or a no reason card with an owl on it. I would take a new job and there would be an owl picture on the wall, I would randomly be invited to an “owl prowl” where I would stare up at screech owls in the woods.

If you don’t know what the owl represents on a spiritual level, let me tell you. It represents death, seeing beyond the veil, seeing in the darkness. The owl is a symbol known too many cultures around the world as an omen of wisdom, death, and power. The Owl came to me during this time of lonliness and loss, in order for me to turn my experience of death into great wisdom and personal power.

The owl was everywhere and my dads soul was right there with it, urging me to find myself and face my grief head on. So that’s what I did. I got the message and I faced it. I felt it deeply in every cell of my body. I cried and cried and cried. I let my grief consume me and I explored myself while I was in it.

I asked myself; what does death really mean? Does energy ever really die? How can I be in awe of the mystery of life and let go of my fear of death? How do I remember my dad in his goodness and his light and how do I repair my relationship with him even after he’s gone?

This led me on a long and winding path of healing, of forgiving, of letting myself fully feel instead of hiding or numbing away. This was a journey into the spiritual realm and I believe to the core of my bones that it was my dads spirit who sent me on this path, who saved me from a similar trajectory to his.

The spirit of the owl is still with me to this day. I have an owl tattoo on my back that represents the guardianship I receive from this special winged creature and my dads spirit. I have seen many owls in beautiful and unusual places around the world and I even have a pair of owl wings of my own.

After the initial fog of grief had passed, I began to travel again and follow my adventurous heart into the world. At one point I asked great spirit to send me the wings of an owl to help me guide myself and others on our journeys through grief. My prayer was received and I now have a preserved pair of owl wings that I bring into ceremonies where I help others who have experienced great loss find meaning and joy once again.

My dads death was a catalyst that solidified in me the knowing that I would always chase my dreams, I would always find the joy and light in life. I would never settle for mediocre and I would always hold on to my wild side that my father gave me.

The essence of this story is this:

Even though my dad wasn’t able to hold onto his adventurous wild light, I will.

Even though my dad wasn’t able release the weight of his pain, I will feel mine and let mine go from my body so it never becomes that heavy for me.

Even though my dad wasn’t able to keep the fun alive and continue sharing his joy, I will.

Even though my dad couldn’t put a high value on his health, I will.

The point is, that my dad still gives me the courage to peruse my dreams, find my passions, chase big adventures, take care of my body, and create amazing memories in my relationships and communities, even though he’s not around anymore.

If that doesn’t show us how powerful fathers are in the lives of their children then I don’t know what could.

Dad, even though you won’t be at my wedding this year, or be flying to Hawaii to wire the electric of our off grid house, or be there to go ocean fishing for the first time with me and my brother. I know that it’s you who gave me the grit to go after these big dreams of mine, and I know that your energy is always somewhere in those moments, as a breeze, a bird, or a kind word from a friend or stranger.

I love you forever and I know we will meet again 💕