Rebecca and Josh

A love story within a love story

Rebecca, in her own words….   

Have you ever come across an old photo that made you feel something, a photo that “struck a chord” deep within your soul that you couldn’t explain why? I have. One particular picture in general has eluded me for quite some time and recently, I was able to discover more about it.  Most of you know my “history” and know that I didn’t have any contact with my father for about 10 years once my parents divorced, which wasn’t by my choice.

Dad passed away back in 2006 and it was extremely difficult to deal with. With the relatively short time I had with him when he was alive and basically having your heart ripped out of your chest with his passing; handling the estate practically by yourself except for the little bit of help I did have, long story short it took me over 5 years to get over him being gone. Each person handles death and dying differently, and circumstances shape how one handles it all. Despite our differences and my rebellious teenager years, I was a Daddy’s girl through and through.

One side effect, if you want to call it that, of all of this is that my memory on a lot of things is not very clear. I get it that your memory fades as you get older, but I firmly believe that my memory “loss” is secondary to a form of PTSD associated with grief. I remember going into the old log cabin up at the farm one day and coming across a pile of my Dad’s family photos laying on the floor. I collected all that I could find and took them to my Dad for him to have and look at. I remember asking him on multiple occasions while he was still alive what life was like when he was young, asking where he used to live up in the mountains and if he would ever take me up there one day. He never really ever said much about his life growing up or life in the mountains; we never made that trip up there.

I vaguely remember asking him about this one specific picture that I came across of him standing on a rock at the edge of what looked like a river, the only response I can remember him telling me was “I don’t remember.” I can only surmise that his life growing up in the mountains and after they moved to the Archdale/Trinity area was something that he didn’t want to revisit. 

I believe that I found out the info that I did on that particular picture from my mother back when things between her and I were relatively “good.” About the only thing that I can remember her telling me about it was that it was taken when they went to the mountains. Apparently, they had “done runn’d offt” (to quote Oh Brother Where Art Thou) and got married without my maternal grandparent’s knowledge. Outside of that, she couldn’t tell me anything else about the photo, no exact location or anything. I always wondered about that picture and even asked some of my family members on my Dad’s side if they recognized where it was to see if I could find out where it was, so I could go there one day to see it for myself. Some said that they thought it was on the Nantahala River, but for the most part I wasn’t able to find out where it was. As I mentioned before in a previous post, y’all don’t know how many times I’ve either driven or ridden down 74 through the Nantahala Gorge looking at the river trying to see if the rocks in the picture matched what I was able to see on the river. 

Fast forward. After emailing back and forth with someone about wedding plans who lives down in Murphy NC, we were discussing connections to the area where the venue is located at. In discussing connections, I briefly told the story about my Dad and sent them a copy of the picture of my Dad standing on the boulder at the river. The next day, they had an answer for me. I cried. An image of the spot on Wilson’s Creek taken recently (came to me in an email) 

Josh and I went to Asheville to celebrate New Year’s Eve and what an interesting trip it was, especially with Mother Nature throwing the curve ball at us like she did. We had a good trip though. We spent a good part of a day playing pinball at the Pinball museum, I got a really cool musical instrument and we were able to meet up with a good friend of mine and have dinner.

Josh and I ventured down to Brevard and drove up through that section of Pisgah Forest. It went from cold and dry/no accumulation to super cold and freezing fog up on the parkway. It was really beautiful. I didn’t have any problems in the weather with my new car and it was quite empowering to be able to go around a “big bad” pickup truck struggling to get up an icy hill in my car without hardly even a slip. 

On our way back home, we ventured to Wilsons Creek to find that spot that is in the picture that I have of my Dad. I had done a little bit of research on the area. Wilsons Creek runs along Brown Mountain Beach Road just south of Mortimer North Carolina and north west of Lenoir NC. It’s quite literally out in the middle of nowhere. I say that because it’s a cell phone dead zone. Haha. It’s apparently a hot spot for kayakers…in the WINTER (which is just crazy). 

As we made the left hand turn onto Brown Mountain Beach Road from Adako Road and got past the “low end/still water” section of the river, you could just look at it from the road and see its awe and beauty. The road turned from paved to gravel and we started noticing pull offs with numbered signs on the stairs leading down to the river. One of the things that I had been told in the email conversation with the person from Murphy was that the area that my Dad was standing in was in fact accessible from the river. This info was good because as we proceeded down the dirt road, the gorge continued to get deeper and deeper to the point that we could no longer see the river without getting out and going right up to the cliff’s edge. 

We got out at either the 2nd or 3rd pull off and went down to the river. I was awestruck. The layout of the river with the rocks and boulders accompanied by the spots with sandy beaches and the bright blue sky and interspersed greenery of the conifer trees with the barren trees along the shores. The water was also so crystal clear that you could see every rock and pebble on the bottom as if it were in your hand, inches from your face. Wilson’s Creek facing South I looked up river and down river seeing if I could find the rapids and rocks that were in my Dad’s picture. It wasn’t at that spot so we kept moving on.

I could sit there on those rocks for hours, just listening and watching and absorbing nature as it were. Too bad it was below freezing with an even lower wind chill!  Ice cubes on top of a frozen pool of ice on the river We moved forward to another spot that looked like it could be it from the road, and it wasn’t. We ended up driving all the way to where the road turned back to pavement to turn around and when we started making our way back down Brown Mountain Beach Road, we found the spot that we were looking for.  

As I made my way down the gently sloping rock face and got a full view of the rapids in my Dad’s picture, I began to cry. I stopped and took it all in before I started making my way closer to the water and as close to the rapid on the rocks that I could. (I was still a good 100+ feet away from the rapid and was on the dry boulders and rocks river right from the rapid). Then there I was. Standing on the exact same rock that my Dad stood on some 40 odd years ago when he and my Mom went there. I stood there for as long as I could. Josh took pictures with the big camera and I took pictures with my phone. I wanted to stay longer but the cold was driving us back to the car. By the time that we had reached that spot, it was completely in the shade which made the temperatures colder than what it actually really was.

Thankfully, there wasn’t a breeze blowing while we were there. It was so peaceful and so quiet. Nothing but the rippling of the water and the creaking/cracking of the frozen layers of ice on top of the water at the banks. Peaceful. 

I left there feeling like a piece of the never-ending puzzle of my Dad was complete. Granted, there are still (what feels like) another bazillion pieces to go, but still. I really have no earthly idea what brought him/them to that area that day some 40 odd years ago. Sure, it’s beautiful but its so far off the beaten path that it doesn’t seem like there is anything connecting him to it.

Was it because of the famous Brown Mountain Lights that happen nearby or was it simply because my Dad was a wanderer and went to random places to see what all is there? If the latter is the case, I can say that I definitely get it honest because I am the exact same way…. Always have been. One way or another, I’ll never know the reason of what took them up there to that area since both of my parents are gone, as is most of my family that would have known. Despite that, and I know it may sound silly, but I have a connection there simply based on one picture taken some 40 odd years ago.