ca·thar·sis (/kəˈTHärsis/)

A few days ago someone used a word I didn't know after I told her about my upcoming cycling tour and accompanying blog: "catharsis". She simply said the word as an afterthought and I was afraid of embarrassing myself by admitting my unfamiliarity but I felt it was important so I looked it up on my phone the first chance I got. This is what I found:

ca·thar·sis (/kəˈTHärsis/)
1. the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong emotions.
2. a purification or purgation of the emotions that brings about spiritual renewal.

I had known that cycling helped me to release my grief-related emotions. I mean, whenever I complete a challenging ride I almost immediately start sobbing. Just to get it out, whatever concoction of feelings that is stirred up by the exercise. I had also known that sharing my plight via Blogger helped me to process what I'm going through in a way that is constructive for me and seemingly beneficial for my audience.

What I didn't know was that there was already a word to describe what I'm doing. I don't know why it matters to me that such a word exists, but it truly does. This single word so perfectly establishes what I had been using sentences to try to convey.

I'm thankful to God for the ways that he has provided for me to grieve. I see it as a gift, this unexpected combination of cycling and blogging. It has been strenuous but redemptive. Messy yet cleansing. Both exhausting and revitalizing at the same time.

For lack of a better word, it has been...well, cathartic.

(By the way, I'm 82% funded. Only $810 to go! And I expect the memorial ride for my brother will provide me with much more than that!)

“The Accident – A Great Day Turned Tragic” by Harrison Greenway

A few days after Harrison died, my Mom and I were going through some of his papers and stumbled upon a reading response journal he kept for his English class. This entry in particular stood out to us, for reasons that will be obvious to you once you've read it. It's eerie really, the unbeknownst foreshadowing that exists as Harrison reflects on the sudden death of his closest childhood friend, Patrick Terry, just a month or so before he himself was killed.

“The Accident – A Great Day Turned Tragic” by Harrison Greenway

I can relate to Aaron and his loss of a loved one, although my experience is a tad bit different. Everyone has that one special friend growing up that you spent time with as soon as the doors opened to let school out until the sun went down. On the weekends you would have sleepovers; you would play all day long. I sure did and his name was Pat. Pat and I did everything together: fished, rode go-carts, dirt bikes, and skateboards, built forts in the woods and caused mayhem around the neighborhood. Pat was a free soul, always acting on impulse. I think this is the reason we were so close. As a kid growing up you think you are invincible; things happen to others but not to you. Well, as we grew up, our lives took different paths. We grew apart but all my childhood memories are filled with Pat and the life we shared and how I did so many new things with him. The first time I moved to Columbia he stayed in Greenville. We didn't keep in touch very often and would see each other from time to time but not like we used to growing up. On December 1^st of 2010, a bright sunny day, I got a call from my father, "Son, do you remember your friend Pat?" My heart sank. I knew the next words coming out of his mouth. The words that followed totally changed my outlook on sustaining friendships and how I should treat people. “He was killed in a car accident last night”, my Dad replied. I hung up the phone, went outside and sat for hours reminiscing on all the times we spent together. I was devastated and after all these years gone past…Why didn't I keep in touch? Why couldn't we hang out one more time? The death of Pat affected everyone differently, most in a positive way, and although I knew I would never see Pat again I knew I could improve all my friendships and work on the way I treated people. Made me look at others as if it would be the last time I saw them.

Amen, brother. Amen.