The Swan Sisters: Lay down the burden of your heart; Ryan L'Herault remembered; moment of silence for all lost in past year

A few years back, I was already walking toward the door of the Kotzebue High School gym to go somewhere else when I heard the voices of Kivalina's Swan Sisters begin to sing gospel. Instantly, I was mesmerised by the sweet beauty in the wonderful harmony created by the blending of the four sisters voices. I stopped right where I was, listened until they finished, then scurried off to wherever it was I had to go - maybe to catch a plane, I don't remember - all I remember is how beautifully they sang together. I decided that one day I would find all sisters together and I would do a story on them.

When I saw "Swan Sisters" on the Kivgiq agenda, I thought maybe this would be the time, but one sister had fallen ill and stayed behind, so I decided to wait. For me, Kivgiq is always both a wonderful event to be at, photograph, and sneak in a few dances and also a time of sleep shortfall. Of them all, this year's Kivgiq was the greatest short-fall of sleep of them all. In fact, I was way behind on sleep when Point Lay drummed their way onto the dance floor to open the Grand Procession.

Those who have followed this blog these past few weeks know we had been in Hawaii and returned to Alaska on an overnight flight during which I dozed off for maybe 15 minutes before I was awoken by a very beautiful and delightful baby next to me and never managed to fall asleep again.

After landing in Alaska, I almost immediately continued on to Nuiqsut so I could get some pictures of the dancers there as they prepared for and then traveled to Kivgiq.

A little after 10:00 PM on the final night of Nuiqsut dance practice, I pulled out my phone and noticed I had just missed a call from my oldest daughter, Melanie. I suddenly felt a great fear. I had that feeling of death having struck somewhere nearby, but of course I tried to push the feeling away. I called my daughter. When she answered, the tone of her voice amplified the feeling.

She said she had bad news. I knew it was death. I hate to say it, but I was hoping she would tell me one of the cats had died. As grievous as that would be, I did not want her to tell me we had lost a human member of the family.

It was Ryan. Ryan L'Herault. Readers who did not know him might remember him from my December 27 post, which I made after he, his expectant wife Jessica and their one-and-three-quarter year-old son Fox spent pretty much the entire day with us during a visit back to Alaska from their home in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

Technically, Ryan was not family, but in a real, emotional, spiritual, way, he was. Now, this fit, slender, healthy-living young man had suffered a heart attack and died.

I went to bed feeling terribly sad, but also exhausted. So much so that I expected the exhaustion to overpower the sadness and eventually put me to sleep. It did not. I did not fall asleep. Throughout the entire night, the image of Ryan's face and the sound of his voice kept floating through my head - not specific memories, not anything particular he had said - just the image of his face and the sound of his voice.

As my mind knew I would never see that face or hear that voice again, I think my mind was trying to lock both image and sound fast into place, so that as long as my mind exists it would not lose them.

Then it was Kivgiq time. Each night I went to bed for just a few hours and then got up and returned to photograph another day. On Saturday morning, the fifth and final day of Kivgiq, I climbed into bed at 4:30 AM and then got up at 8:30 and was soon in the Barrow High gym. The morning's events featured youth dance groups - and the three Swan sisters who had come. Here you see Marilyn, singing high tenor, Alice at alto and Storm,soprano. They were accompanied by Genelle Patkotak-Okpeaha on the guitar.

After the morning session ended, I had some lunch, then climbed the stairs to the track, where I lay down upon the floor to see if I might get some rest before the afternoon dancing began. I did not expect to sleep, but hoped just to close my eyes and let my mind slip inside of itself and relax for what would prove to be my only break until I returned to Roy's place at 3:30 AM the next morning.

As I did, down below in the gym, the three present Swan sisters returned to the mic to provide some lunch time entertainment.

They sang so sweetly, so soothingly:

Lay down the burden of your heart...

I felt a tear drip down my right cheek, another, my left.

And somehow, for the duration of the singing of the Swan Sisters, I seemed to lay my burden down.

And here he is, holding Fox, expectant wife Jessica adoring him, Melanie by her side - Ryan, during the final minutes he would ever be physically present in my life.

There is so much I would like to say about him... like how, during their days at UAF he and Melanie lived in a tiny tiny cabin in the woods, with no running water and an outhouse and a "pee tree" to run to when the temperature outside was in the -50's, how, whenever they would come and stay with us, he brought a lizard and we always had to make sure the light bulb was plugged in so the lizard would stay warm through the night; how, after Melanie went off to do a year of study in the UK, he followed her there and then the two of them roamed about Europe a bit and Melanie always called him "Esteban."

He and Melanie parted when he went off to make a life in Canada, where, because of his Canadian father, he had dual citizenship. There, he got together with Jessica, here, Melanie got together with Charlie and all four became fast friends and would get together whenever Ryan return to visit his Talkeetna family and us. He loved cats and all animals and he was a damn fine photographer.

He had the talent to go pro.

The last post he made on his Facebook page was a black and white portrait of me. In it, I look kind of scruffy. My hair is unkempt. I look a little dazed and perplexed.

He caught me just as I am.

Mostly, Ryan was a loving and giving young man. We all loved him. Melanie and Rex traveled to Calgary for his funeral.

At Kivgiq, dancers from Anaktuvuk Pass dedicated their performance to village elders and others who had passed on in the last year. Afterward, they stood with all the audience in a moment of silence for all those friends and loved ones from not only their village but from all across the Slope and elsewhere who had died over the past year.

When I think about it, those lost in that time seem to be a multitude. All present had loved ones to mourn.

Comments

[Kathryn]

May your family please accept my deepest sympathy as you mourn the loss of this fine young man. I am so very sorry.

[Viva]

Twice I've tried to post, but the words won't come out right. All I can do is pray that the path for Jessica and her children is a smoother one than the one that Ann Strongheart' trod.