I took a Substack break to help our daughter Fiona prepare to head to Peru to work at a couple of biological research stations. But let’s be clear — I actually was helping myself prepare for her departure. She did the work of gear collation and precision packing for two very disparate climates. I just wrung my hands asking her if she packed enough sunscreen, neosporin, bug netting, chocolate, and good socks. She’s been gone only a week, but I’ve already written to her, stuffing crossword puzzles into the letters and sleeping with my phone close at hand in case she texts us at 5 am before heading into the field.
A month after receiving a newly minted biology degree from the University of Colorado, our eldest daughter moved back home to help us navigate our family tragedy, postponing both her dreams of traveling with a friend and starting a career in conservation biology. She didn’t have to make that sacrifice, but she did and helped us immeasurably with the maelstrom in our hearts. It was a gift, and we got way too used to having her around again. I remember living day to day in my twenties, carefree except for bad romantic choices and challenging studio mates, staying out late, drinking too much, and somehow finding my way with plenty of twists and turns. I had no idea what a luxury that was. I certainly don’t recognize that soul these days.
Last week Fi started a biology internship at Wayqecha Cloud Forest Research Station assisting with their Andean bear research. She’ll finish her time in Peru at a much lower elevation in the tropical Amazon at Los Amigos biological station, adjacent to Manu National Park, working on various projects including Amazon scarab beetle research. It took 48 hours of travel including one all-nighter in the Lima airport to get to Wayquecha, but she stepped into a new life without missing a beat.
When Bailey died, I was so distracted by my own depression and shock that I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t initially grasp the complexity of Fi’s experience. She not only lost a sister, but also had to face the fact that her parents would still function and live and love and wonder but would be broken and haunted in ways hidden from the world—but not from her. She has seen us at our emotional nadir while watching us change in real-time, something no parent wishes for a child. Her sister is still very much with us —and always will be—but only in spirit. Fi will be our focus, a weight for her to bear in its own right. She also will be solely responsible for us once we approach the rigors of old age. Daniel and I had siblings to lean on through this passage with our own parents, but Fi will navigate it with no siblings to bitch and moan about how bizarre or annoying we’ve become. No sibling will be there to tag team responsibilities with her, no one to reminisce with once we push beyond the veil. Of course, I hope she will have a husband and her own family, but it takes a sibling to understand how your parents raised you and how you raised them. All of which is a lot to absorb before you even hit your 22nd birthday.
After we dropped her off at the Grand Junction airport a week ago, my husband and I drove home in relative silence, stunned by the melancholy that descended on us. The last time we dropped a child off at an airport our lives imploded a day later, so we were also grappling with crushing anxiety.
Our inbox is now filled with stunning pictures of her new world, and we are happy campers. It takes courage to immerse yourself in a new culture with good Spanish but not scientific Spanish. It takes exceptional courage to leave a familiar life, a loving boyfriend, a needy plush toy of a rescue dog, friends, and fragile parents to figure out what you want, who you are, and how to shape your life. Especially after navigating loss and trauma.
After a week she’s learned:
how to wield a machete like a pro
how to hike rugged slopes in inches of mud with that same machete in hand — the pitches of which are much steeper than her native Rocky Mountains — while tracking a lost bear collar
how to set a puma trap
how to cut up rotting fermented meat without losing your lunch
how to bait a bear trap complete with said rotting, fermented meat
how to scrub down that smelly bear trap
how to set up wildlife cameras
some rudimentary taxonomy
a different kind of Spanish
On her first major trek, she spotted an Andean bear (Tremarctos ornatus) sow and cub — a thrill since they are elusive — along with the threatened Pearl Morpho butterfly (Morpho sulkowski), countless orchids and birds like jewels flitting in the cloud forest in one of the most biodiverse places on earth.
It remains to be seen how this experience will transform her but it will. The headlines may be primarily focused on chaos, recklessness, greed and cruelty, but she is focused on helping this planet. And in so doing, she is helping herself. And, once again, us.
Bravo Fi! May the world you entered bring you a sense of wonder, purpose, and healing. You are a remarkable girl - your Mother's Daughter! You will evolve and bring beauty with you wherever you go. May this time offer you the most exquisite experiences to share with all of us.
Be well, beautiful girl. Back home, you have a whole team of supporters rooting for you.
Love. Alex
What a brave girl. I'm so glad that a butterfly was among her precious sitings.