Not to Forget

A friend of mine took her two grade-school-aged boys to the summer Olympics the year the games were held in Atlanta. She drove them all the way from Montana, taking the larger part of two weeks for travel and attending the events. Upon their return to Montana, the father of the boys asked the younger of the two what he though about the trip. “Dad,” the boy answered without hesitation, “I had no idea there was so much corn growing out there.”

Clearly, a few details of the trip were lacking in the description provided by the boy—the long-drawn highways over the Great Plains, the lush hills rolling into the Ozarks, the moss-hung South, and the thunderous crowds cheering athletes on at the games, to name but a few details. I realize today that I made a similar error in how sparsely I described the lakeside celebration held for Uyen on Saturday last. I have thought about the gathering a great deal these last two days. Yesterday, driving home along the green windrows a freshly swathed alfalfa, I had to wipe tears from my face as I thought about everyone there. Not tears of sadness. Tears of joy.

We are rich in friends, me and Uyen. Gathered at the lakeside, dozens upon dozens of beautiful people. Children wading into the water at the lakeshore and splashing silver against the sun. Adults gathered under the giant golden willows and spilling cheerfully onto the docks and lawn. My sisters. Our daughter chatting with our oldest and newest friends, providing continuity. Val, who drove over one-hundred miles in each direction, several times every week, to visit Uyen when she was hospitalized in Missoula. Leo, who drove Uyen to town for doctors appointments weekly so that I could continue to work as she slowly battled back from the transverse myelitis that wounded her so hard. Ginny, who would do anything for Uyen. Scott, Kevin, Vicki and Vicki, Patti and Patty, Thao, and on so many dozen times. People who helped us build our house. Children who have now had children of their own.

How could I forget the most lovely and important part of this entire walk along the bottom of the big sky—our friends and family?

To all, forever, thank you! Love.

--Mitchell Hegman