Loss and blessings

Walking by the Noodle and the Stash on the way to Kochevar’s last Friday was an emotional trek. Two empty spots behind the bars of those establishments practically shouted the rawness of living in a small town. Two good people gone in two weeks. That on top of other tragic losses that came at us in a tough winter. The beast and the beauty of small-town living.

Losing friends, acquaintances and neighbors, especially those in their prime, through choice, accident or medical issues is something that is more than a ripple in the village when it happens – it is a thundering wave. Whether personally close to a person or a simple acquaintance, such a loss somehow touches all who have chosen to call this place home. This is not something I haven’t written before, unfortunately.

So again, feeling loss is part of being a piece in this high mountain community jigsaw puzzle. Choosing to live or be a regular part in a beautiful but end-of-the-road place filled with challenges, both expected and surprising, is a tie that binds. Crested Butte and the entire valley are still small enough where news, both positive and negative, are magnified compared to similar situations in bigger places. That is the blessing and the curse.

Look, death is not an anomaly here. It happens a lot to people of all stripes. But it can still be surprising and painful. As I grow older, that sort of loss is more and more common. And that is not unexpected or to be feared. It is what it is. The heartbreaks come when those leave us too soon. Upon reflection though, it has become clearer that while sad for those of us left behind, and absolutely tragic to those closest to the ones that cross over, it is also important to remember the blessings. To have had such people be a part of our life really is a blessing. No matter the briefness of their shooting star, it is a blessing to have experienced those that leave us too soon. The smiles, the jokes, the struggles, the fears, the disappointments, the celebrations— frankly, all the elements of the rawness of deep life.

It isn’t easy to deal with when it happens, and there are questions of why that always rumble up from the deep well of community. But do not discount the blessing of having shared even a small part of life with the special ones. And we all have shared nuggets of those lives recently gone from both ends of the valley, whether extremely personally, or just as a small-town passing.

Everyone here contributes to the small village whether they realize it or not. And that, honestly, is every single one of us. While there are separate sections of the big picture in the jigsaw, we, you, all matter to the bigger puzzle.

Walking into Kochevar’s Friday afternoon, a pall covered the neighborhood bar as people spontaneously gathered to embrace, remember and honor. A similar vibe embraced Monday’s 4/20 Townie Takeover. At both gatherings, there were tears and hugs, shock and loss. But there were also cheers and memories, laughter and stories. It is the beast and the beauty of small-town living. And honestly, it will not be the last time it happens.

But it is love.

It is community.

—Mark Reaman