Nine Years up the Mountain
A couple of weeks ago, I had a dream that I was talking to Jesse. It had been years since I’d had a dream like that, one of those dreams that feels so real you wake up convinced it actually happened. We didn’t talk about anything profound. We just enjoyed a normal conversation.
I wish I could remember more of the details, but they didn’t really matter. Just having that sense, that presence, of being around my brother again is something I won’t forget.
The one detail I do remember is Jesse sharing a quote with me that he used to say all the time.
“You know who’s the best hitter on the team.”
I finished it for him.
“Joe Pope, because he hits doubles.”
Jesse smiled and laughed. “Actually, it was…”
He told me a name, but I can’t remember it. That moment between sleep and awake can be frustrating.
But it got me thinking. Maybe it was a nudge.
Team Jesse has always been about honoring Jesse’s memory by trying to make a positive impact on the world. But this year, I want to share a different story and talk about another great hitter.
Glenn “Hardrock” Delaney. Head Honcho of the Big Cheese Department. Avid outdoorsman. Badass retired Colorado Springs detective. Brain injury survivor.
As a kid, Grandpa could be pretty scary. He was large and gruff and would chew your ass if you scared away the squirrels he was feeding. He drank black coffee and cooked scrambled eggs in bacon grease. He spent much of his time taking care of my grandmother.
When he watched my brothers and me, I’d dodge the tendrils of cigarette smoke while playing tiddlywinks with my cousin Reeny. I loved my grandpa, but early on I spent a lot of time walking on eggshells because, honestly, I found him a little intimidating.
I also thought he was a leprechaun.
Sometimes I still think he was.
A few months after my grandmother passed away, Grandpa had a stroke.
A left sided cerebrovascular accident robbed him of much of the function on the right side of his body and most of his ability to speak. He spent a long time in the hospital before eventually coming to live with us.
His recovery required countless hours of therapy, nursing care, and adaptive equipment to help him navigate everyday life.
He recovered some of his speech and figured out how to communicate remarkably well with a limited vocabulary.
“Good one.”
“Bad one.”
“Yaaaaaa.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass.”
That last one my friends and I heard quite a bit in high school. We probably deserved it.
He could also say a lot with a smile.
He regularly returned to his hometown of Cripple Creek, where he made full use of the highest speed setting on his power wheelchair to get to the best slot machines and occasionally ditch my mom.
He watched my brothers and me play in countless sporting events. One of my favorite memories happened when I was ten or eleven years old. I was running late for a baseball game and couldn’t find my belt. Naturally, I spiraled. I was convinced the world was ending because the All-Star coaches would obviously never consider a kid who showed up to Opening Day without his belt.
Grandpa was sitting in the passenger seat of the Suburban waiting for us to leave. I was in tears, and he just hugged me and let me cry. He didn’t need any words to show how much he cared about me and to let me know it would be alright.
Don’t worry, Dad found my belt.
I’m so grateful for the relationship I ended up having with my grandpa. I loved him very much. I’m proud of the person he was and amazed by his perseverance. He survived a brain injury and chose to keep living his life to the fullest.
The primary mission of the Brain Injury Association of Colorado is to help people with brain injuries live full lives. They provide support for survivors and their families, advocate for prevention, and work to advance research and treatment.
It’s the organization I’ve chosen to support in memory of both my brother Jesse and my Grandpa, two people I love whose lives were dramatically changed by brain injuries.
For the past nine years, I’ve supported the Brain Injury Association of Colorado by participating in the Pikes Peak Challenge, its primary fundraiser. Each year, I hike to the summit of Pikes Peak alongside my fellow members of Team Jesse and many other like minded people.
Many participants take on the challenge to honor a loved one who experienced a brain injury. Many others are survivors themselves.
The event is overwhelmingly positive. Every year, I get to hear people’s stories, celebrate their resilience, and be reminded of the incredible strength that exists within this community.
Being part of this event has helped me open up more about my brother and his death.
I’m an avid supporter of good vibes, positivity, and the Brain Injury Association of Colorado.
If you would like to support me and Team Jesse this year, there are a few ways you can help.
- Join me on the hike! Team Jesse is always evolving, and all are welcome! It’s truly an amazing experience
- Donate to my fundraiser page: 100% of the proceeds go to the BIAC and the people they serve
- Spread the Word: Share this story, have open conversations about challenging topics like mental health, find a way to make a positive impact!
- Send positive vibes for me and Team Jesse as we take on this challenge again this year on September 6th. Your encouragement means the world!
Thank you for taking the time to read my story and share this experience with me.
As always: If you’re looking for me, you can find me on the bright side!
With Gratitude,
TNT
-
Callen & Cade Terry
$50.00