|
|
|
Daniel Ostergren's Letter |
|
10-20-03
A note to Cameron's friends and family:
My name is Daniel Ostergren, and I live just a few houses east of Cameron and
his roommates, with my wife Renee, and 4 year-old son, Soren. The news of
Cameron's death struck me particularly hard. Frankly, I wasn't sure why this
was. I have experienced the loss of my parents, other close relatives, and
several friends. Why should the news of the accidental death of a young man I
didn't know well grab my heart and not let go?
It would be easy to say that it was related to the fact that we had
motorcycling in common. That's how we met. When Cameron and the guys moved in I
began to hear that characteristic howl of an inline 4 cylinder bike motor and
thought "I'm not sure what the other neighbors are thinking, but I'm going to
run on down and see what's in their toy box!" And I did. What I discovered was
a garage full of nice toys, to be sure, but more importantly I found a group of
thoughtful, bright, and enthusiastic young people, with Cameron as their
apparent hub. Eventually, I took a ride on his bike, and he, a ride on mine. I
brought by a rare Ducati 900 Superlight I bought last fall, and you'd have
thought it was Christmas morning for Cameron - asking me questions, commenting
on all aspects of this machine and why it was special. We had in common the
understanding of the magic "boundary drop" that occurs on a bike. 10 feet out
of your driveway and the laws of physics respond to your command in a way like
no other - perfect harmony in a song of motion and dynamics that you are both
creating, and by which you are being created. If only we could master the
circumstances around us as well as we can master the machine beneath us.
No, what I think hurt so much about Cameron's death was that it was profoundly
different from almost all the other losses I have experienced in life - the
necessary losses. Necessary losses are the parts of our lives we give up in
order to grow, or the natural deaths of grandparents and parents (even due to
illness), even other unexpected losses may be necessary losses. We have a
vocabulary for this. We more or less know what to say, and we more or less know
how to grieve the necessary loss. But the unnecessary loss is another thing
altogether. I know this because I was involved in an accident that caused the
death of a friend when I was 16. Every aspect of my life since has been shaped
by that event. It is not explainable. The questions have no answers. It is cold
and factual. The axis around which my world turned was tipped and it will not
be righted. However, the world is still turning, and here we are, with another
unnecessary loss. I remember all the tears that flowed from me back then, and
that they had no good place to go. I know that you will cry these tears as
well, and not know how to show them their way home.
It's been said that religion is for people who are afraid of hell, and
spirituality is for people that have already been there. If that is true, I
sense that most of us are experiencing a very painful unfolding of our
spiritual selves. It is my hope that we may we travel this unfolding path in a
state of grace, recognizing and accepting love and consolation as we find it.
May we remember Cameron as he was - vibrant, cavalier (yet not any more
careless than any of us has been), humble (as humble as one can be when you're
invincible), intelligent, funny, compassionate, and loving. We have been
changed by his presence in our lives, as we shall surely be changed by his
absence.
My family and I extend our deepest sympathy to Cameron's family and friends.
Sincerely,
Dr. Daniel Ostergren
|
|