A five minute video sharing me herding 30 cows on the first year death anniversary of my father!

Aloha friends,

It’s the first death anniversary of my beloved father, Doug Cheeseman, who tragically passed on March 22, 2022. As his sudden death deeply impacted me this past year, I thought I would dedicate an entire blog post to commemorate him and my dear mother, Gail, who died four months before him, on November 16, 2021. They both were a constant, solid source of love for me and their absence has been acutely felt.

The first entry is my writing piece that I have been working on in the past few weeks. I was fortunate to attend a writing retreat with my wonderful Eponaquest teacher, Linda Kohanov, at the beginning of March. Held in the safe space of the horses, other women writers and Linda, I allowed myself to feel the memories I had been holding back since my father's death. This is a raw piece that shares the trauma that unfolded during my dad’s decline, after his ghastly knee replacement surgery that went awry. My colleagues encouraged me to share it, as they said others would benefit from hearing my experience of witnessing death and decline. Too often, these subjects are NOT spoken about, so when one goes through it, it can be shocking to experience it and one can feel extreme trepidation about sharing it with others. Death and grief are real and we MUST SPEAK ABOUT THESE TOPICS to normalize them!

The second piece was written by a long time friend of my fathers, Larry Volpe. My father was a biology and zoology teacher at De Anza College for 30 years. Larry, who is about my age, was one of the many students who learned from my father and derived great inspiration from him. He wrote this piece after we had a small gathering with friends and family at the Cheeseman’s Environmental Study Area, which is a two and a half acre oasis featuring California native plant habitats in the heart of the Silicon Valley. My pioneer of a father created this area, when the college was first started, in 1971. Larry’s writing truly captures how my parents both inspired countless people with their environmental passion. Thank you Larry for this touching piece; words can’t express how much it means to me. 🙏🏾

If you want to see a 30 minute I poured my heart into making for my parents joint memorial on May, 2021, please check it out here.

Mahalo for reading and for caring! ♥️

My family at my wedding in 2009. Notice the red dress!

At My Wedding, My Mother Wore Red

In March of 2023, I was fortunate to attend Linda Kohanov’s ‘Writing Between the Worlds’ workshop in Amado, Arizona. This ended up being a truly cathartic event for me, as every Eponaquest workshop and teacher training I have attended has been. I share about the transformational power of her work and how it changed my life in a positive manner in my bestselling book, ‘Grace, Grit & Gratitude: A Cancer Thriver’s Journey from Hospice to Full Recovery with the Healing Power of Horses’. Linda was even generous enough to write the foreword for my book!

I signed up for this workshop as soon as it was announced in December. As it ended the day before my birthday, I knew it would be perfect timing for me to dive into some deep healing. March was going to be a loaded month for me, as it marked the one-year anniversary of my beloved father’s tragic death exactly one year before. From experiencing a multitude of grief over the years, I know how triggering death anniversaries and birthdays can be. The first-year marks are always the hardest. His sudden death broke my heart into a million pieces. I realized after he died how close we were and how I greatly identified with him. I knew I had to do something nurturing for myself during my birthday month, lest I drown in a river of sorrow.

My dear mother had died four months before my father, which magnified the layers of trauma that I carried. They had been married for almost 60 years and acted like one unit. My father could not live without his beloved queen upon the planet. Therefore, he found a way to return to her angelic spirit.

After both of their deaths, I carried a plethora of grief, which I was having a hard time processing. It was time for impeccable self-care!

The exercise we were doing was called ‘reflective round pen’, which involves doing a body scan, listening to the messages that your body has for you, tuning into what your heart is yearning for, then asking the horse you are paired with if he/she has any advice for how to achieve your goal. Once you received the necessary messages, the participant would enter the round pen and spend time with the horse. This is where the magic unfolds, as the horse directly mirrors whatever cathartic experience you are meant to have.

My connection with the gorgeous white mother horse named Blanca at Linda’s property at Eponaquest was immediate. As soon as Elysa told me there was a mother and baby horse on the property, I was drawn to connect with the mare. The lure of the mother/child connection resonated with the part of me that still grieved my mother, after her recent death. I have missed the innate natal depth of our sacred connection.

Hours before the reflective round pen activity, I stood outside Blanca’s fenced area and felt the waves of sorrow pour forth.

With my mother dead and my father as well, I felt a great loss and sacrifice for this tender-hearted soul.

The exercise itself was multi-faceted. Memories poured forth like a waterfall. My mother lost her ability to physically and mentally function. While she possessed an Amazonian strength her entire life, it was painful to see her superwoman self slowly slipping away. My father couldn’t handle seeing his beloved queen of almost 60 years lose her strength and mobility. He clung with desperation, refusing to see the harsh reality that her death was staring him in the face.

I tried to hold it all.
Mere mortals can only do so much.

Memories of Father:

Blanca pulled the sticky remnants of long-repressed memories from my chest, belly and legs. She tenderly nibbled away the stuck emotions around the part of me that couldn’t bear to face one emergency after another. My father had incessant tantrums during the last months of my mother’s decline and during the four months that stretched between her death and his own morbid passing.

My father was curled up on the bed, with liquid leaking out of his arms due to his faulty heart.

“Dad, please get in the ambulance,” I begged him as four sturdy, kind and caring paramedics stood in his bedroom.

This was the same bedroom my dear mom died in merely months before.

“You really need medical care.” My voice cracked with tears. I was scared and shaken to see my almighty godlike father reduced to a whimpering mess. His knee wound was gaping six inches open from the failed knee replacement surgery. His body was full of a lethal staph infection. I had to administer medical IVs for him three times a day. I tried desperately to find a nurse or caretaker that could do the IVs, as I was uncomfortable with administering needles and the complicated process, but there was no one else to do it besides me. One time in the surgeon’s office, I almost passed out when the nurse was teaching me how to clean his horrendous knee wound that became worse by the day.

I was never meant to be a nurse.
I get queasy with the sight of blood.

He thought his knee wound was getting better, but my brother, the caretakers and I watched in horror at the extreme amount of pus that poured out of it. He had to have a machine to suck the foul, yellow and green viscous mucous out of the infection, it was so bad. He was in denial about the declining state of his body, in the same way that he could not face the reality that my mother was dying. I tried to tell him in the last few weeks of her life that she exhibited the telltale signs of someone on their way out. I knew it was a hard reality to integrate that the tall, incredible woman he had been with since the age of 24 was dying.

“If you don’t go to the Emergency Room for you, please do it for Ted, (my brother) and I. We love you and want to see you getting the help you need.”

My ability to be strong was cracking.
It was an unbearable weight to hold.

It’s a rough reality when the child becomes the parent.

He refused.

The paramedics left.

Somehow, one of his many caregivers talked him into going to the ER.

That was the last day I saw him at our family home, which was the only home I knew my entire life. This was the 1960s-built redwood house I was brought to as a baby. The same house that was briskly sold six months later. It held 60 years of items that were quickly passed on in a grief filled frenzy. Letting go of the house and the place I called home is another major grievance for me.

My dad went to the hospital.
I had to fly back home the next day.

My dear father died one week later.
Two-thousand, five hundred miles away, his body lay cold in a hospital room.
My tender, boisterous father was gone.

Just like that.

I was not even there, because after my father went into the hospital, I had to fly home to meet my own medical needs with my monthly shots for cancer treatment. My own journey with stage 4 cancer is a constant reminder of the fragility of life.

Forgiven:

Blanca, the otherworldly white horse, showed me that I did everything I could. My mother and father are grateful for my help. I am forgiven for my human limitations of not being able to save yet one more person, who has died in my close circle. Each time a beloved falls, I do everything I can to save them, but no one evades the inevitable dance with death that knocks on every mortal’s door.

I felt the message from Blanca telling me:

“You did what you could
Honored your parents
Your heart, soul and spirit showed up at every turn of the road.”

I felt my mother’s loving care within the gentle, playful and loving spirit of Blanca. As she picked at my jacket, her funny horse lips evoked joy from her silly antics.

As I was enjoying Blanca’s energetic field, my friends who observed the interaction, saw a bold vermillion flycatcher flying around us. This is an extremely rare, bright red bird to see. I was told that the auspicious bird flew right up to Blanca’s back right leg, almost touching it. Linda and her helpers remarked that not only had they rarely seen this unique type of bird, but they had never seen one fly so close to a human and horse on the property before.

After the powerful session, Chrissy, one of the participants in the class, asked me if there was any significance with a bird appearing during our time. I exclaimed in excitement, “Yes, my mother was an avid birdwatcher! My father and her led birdwatching safaris around the globe to every continent. My mother was so into birds that I would come home after school to hear her playing exotic bird songs from East Africa on her cassette player!”

The group looked at me in disbelief.

Then Chrissy asked me if there was any correlation with the color red?

I replied, “At my wedding, everyone in our wedding party wore a gorgeous teal blue color. My mother somehow did not get the memo and wore a bright red dress that stood out among the crowd!”

I heard afterwards from my mother’s best friend that my mother wore red frequently for events, like when she was crowned the ‘Queen of Conway, New Hampshire’ as she was the beauty queen of her town! I had no idea on that fateful day in the early 1950’s that the dress she wore was red, as I just had a black and white version of the famed photo. My mother was quite a humble and quiet person, so for her to wear red, it was a bold act of courage that was out of her ordinary routine.

The interaction with Blanca was a portal, through which my mother felt safe to communicate and share her loving motherly energy with me.

A Mother’s Sacrifice:

In the spring of 2019, my mother witnessed me being referred to Hospice with stage 4 cancer. My whole family came out to visit me at my home in Kauai, Hawaii. They were tragically intending to say goodbye to me. I cannot imagine how difficult and scary that must have been for all of them.

I was deathly ill.

I was breathing with an oxygen machine, as I was constantly coughing, with cancer throughout my lungs. I was skin and bones, far below my usual weight. Most of the time I was lying in bed, as I was in too much pain to move and exhausted most of the time. For about two weeks, I had painful sores in my mouth and throat, and I was not able to eat. During this period, I came close to death and landed in the hospital. For about six months I was walking with a cane as my left hip was breaking from cancer bone metastasis.

When she became sick, my mother seemed to mysteriously take on many of the same ailments as me. She developed a persistent cough. Two months after I was in the hospital close to death, she was diagnosed with stage 4 peripheral T-Cell Lymphoma. She ended up having her lungs drained, months after I did. She started heavy chemo four months after I did, and we were both bald at the same time.

When my mother’s health was spiraling down from cancer, was she subconsciously sacrificing her life for mine? Did she wish for me to live, in exchange for her death?

As her symptoms became worse, I slowly, miraculously recovered. She died in November 2021. One year after her death, I was declared NED, no “Evidence of Disease,” which is a term I never dreamt I would hear! The cancer that had ravaged my whole body, which had broken my hip and had brought me so close to death, had completely vanished.

As I have witnessed countless deaths, I am reminded how precious life is. 🤍

The loss of my mother, father and family house in the last year and a half has almost crippled me with grief. Like the phoenix rising from the flames, I am slowly finding my ground again after such an immense loss.

These moments with the horses, Eponaquest work, the magic of the vermillion flycatcher – and giving myself space to feel and process the grief and trauma around my parents’ mutual decline – which is healing me.

If you're reading this and you've lost a beloved one, please remember this:

Keep breathing and keep releasing, because this grief you hold is here to transform you.

My mother and father on one of their adventurous safaris to Antarctica. I love this photo as it truly embodies their vivacious spirit!

A Tribute to Doug & Gail Cheeseman

Written by Larry Volpe

A couple of days ago I had the privilege to attend the ceremony of the spreading of the ashes of some dearly departed friends. This was the one-year anniversary of Doug and Gail Cheeseman’s passing. I was very honored when I got the invite from Tara Coyote.

The occasion prompted me to finally put down some of my thoughts into words. This is one of the most difficult memorial tributes I have ever written. Not only because of the passing of two friends, mentors and so much more but also, just a couple of months prior, was the passing of Doug’s wife of 60+ years, Gail.

Together, this couple was a force of nature. A force in fighting for wild places. A force in speaking out for our furred, finned, feathered, and scaled brethren, the ones without the voices. They lead by example for many decades. Before I ever even met them, they not only advocated for wildlife and everything about their habitats, but they also taught everybody, countless hundreds of thousands of people, about wildlife science and research and an infinite amount of personal knowledge that was not only interesting, but it also inspired us to act out and advocate for our wonderful and beautiful natural heritage. They saw a need and they filled it; more than a random hundred people combined.

I do not exaggerate here. This wonderful couple founded, owned and operated Cheeseman Ecology Safaris and they led trips on every continent since the 1970s. Their wildlife safaris emphasized visiting the animals in their native habitats. Disturbing them as little as possible and at the same time teaching us what we can do for them to ensure that these very same critters are here for our grandchildren’s grandchildren, that you cannot put a price tag on wildlife and that their intrinsic value is enough for us to do more for them than is currently being done, that what we are doing is never enough because of human greed and conservative government policies that don’t find intrinsic value in wildlife because of the need to fuel the consuming machine of resource extraction.

I first met Doug when I moved to California in the summer of 1991, right across the street from where he worked for several decades teaching at De Anza College. Doug, and his teaching partner Julie started a most incredible recycling program and running it was my buddy Jeff who I also met shortly after I moved here. He brought me on board as an employee where I worked for a few years. This incredible program was a model for the nation and the college continuously got phone calls on how to set up such an awesome program. With the insight and help of Jeff, it was actually profitable, which at the time was almost unheard of in the world of recycling. This is where my relationship with Doug started. I saw him on almost a daily basis for years, and we talked about all the things we had in common.

The love of wildlife being first and foremost. Another thing that we really connected on was with photography. He was the most incredible wildlife photographer. For years, and to this day, I always inspired to be able to capture wildlife as he had done. Every couple of months, Doug would give a presentation sponsored by the Audubon Society. I attended everyone I could. Doug and Gail would be the presenters, and they would present about so much more than birds. Each slideshow would focus on a single trip, and every time everyone in attendance (there was always a packed room) hinged on every word they said. We always learned so much about zoology, mammalogy, and the ecology of the places they visited. Oftentimes many of the people who attended this trip with them were there to see their presentations, to relive an incredible experience, and to learn even more about the place they had just visited.

I feel so lucky because for several years I saw him on a daily basis and learned so much from him. He was also an incredible teacher, although I never actually took any of his classes. I know this from personally knowing so many of his students. Even though I was never in a class with him, it didn’t matter because of our daily conversations. Many of these conversations took place in the De Anza College Environmental Studies Area. This was an area that he created and built in the early 70s. A natural area on campus, about an acre, that was a garden of California native plants, habitats, including a pond with a river and a waterfall. Since it was created, it was renamed the Cheeseman Environmental Studies Area. Hundreds of thousands of people have come through this area to learn about our wonderful native biomes and the plants they contain. I can only speculate on how many thousands of students were lucky enough to visit this area with Doug and were influenced by his most dynamic teaching. No doubt, he inspired Julie to carry on many years after he retired, with the same enthusiasm and influence on her students as well. I can see this with confidence because I’ve known Julie for 30 plus years, and I have taken many classes from her.

Doug’s legacy lives on through too many people to count. His legacy and inspiration live on through me. When I first started teaching, I was inspired to create my own native plant garden/wildlife habitat, both at home and at work. I’ve been gardening with California native plants at my school for almost 25 years. Students can never get outside enough. I bring my students out there on a weekly basis to learn from nature. They often beg to go out. There is no better way to have fun while learning, than to spend time in nature. This is one of the many things I have to be thankful for Doug and Gail.

On Wednesday, I had the pleasure to finally meet Doug’s son, Ted. I can’t believe it took me this long to actually meet him. I attended many local whale watching trips in Monterey Bay, led by Doug and Gail, but for whatever reason Ted was never on any of those trips that I attended.

I will never forget the time Doug and Gail invited Maria and I into their home. Our work timeline and budget would not allow us to attend one of their Safaris, so they generously offered to hook us up with the company in Africa that they used and to help us design a custom Serengeti Safari. Our 10-day wildlife Safari included four of their most favorite destinations within the massive park. They also told us which lodges we should stay at and they recommended their most favored wildlife safari guide/driver. This over-the-top wildlife experience was definitely the coolest adventure of my life. I think I recall Doug once telling me that this was a trip that he led over 80 times. I can only imagine how many people he and Gail have influenced on this trip and 1000’s of others on every continent of the planet.

This reminds me of another way in which Doug’s legacy lives on in me. When I was still leading weekend adventures with my students, I took many of them whale watching. Nothing is more delightful than hearing the screams of a dozen children as a few hundred dolphins are jumping all around your boat. Or the Ooooooos and aaaahhhhhs and questions from children when a massive gray whale breaches. These are experiences that these kids will remember for the rest of their lives. Thanks so much for inspiring me, Doug and Gail.

In meeting Ted, I got to hear about some of his work. He not only carries on his parents’ legacy by running the family business and leading wildlife safaris all over the planet, but he also conducts research on whales (Happy Whale) along the Pacific coast. I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ted’s research will benefit whale populations, many generations into the future, and that his own legacy and influence on others doing the same will surely be just as influential as his parents.

Unbelievably, I only met Tara a few short months ago. In this brief time, I can also share with you that her parent’s legacy is carried on in her as well. She is such an incredible advocate of wild horses, has written a children’s book (Comanche the Wild Mustang) about it, and teaches others to advocate for these beautiful creatures. She has also written a book about dealing with grief, fighting cancer, and how horses are tied into both of these. If any of these issues has touched your life, then you must look her up. She teaches from the heart and from experience and is the most valuable resource.

Another thing Doug and I had in common is that we were both San Jose State Spartans and our love for football. Doug and Gail had season tickets to Spartan football long before I met them. Every game I attended over the last 25 years I would always visit them in their season holder seats and chat sports, wildlife, and politics. Doug exuded joy for the game, and he was so passionate about his alma mater. It was so great to connect with him on this level as well. As I write this, I’m now getting sad because this was our last meet up. It was the previous season before this one when Gail had fallen ill. This was the first game where I visited Doug where she was not there by his side. I went up for my usual visit and hopped over the row into the empty seat next to Doug. His immediate was reply was, “You can’t sit there” despite the fact that Gail was not there with him. I can tell by his tone that he was deeply bothered, but not having his Queen (this is how Tara affectionately refers to her mama) by his side. I immediately responded to his perturbance with a big hug. His composure immediately changed his face lit up. [Now I’m crying]. His mood lightened, his booming voice and infectious laughter are two of the traits he is most known for, and this was no exception. It was so wonderful to know that despite his current suffering, that I was able to bring him a little bit of joy in his day. We had our usual 15-minute conversation, although this time it included Gail’s struggles. We then parted ways for the last time. I’m so thankful that for a brief moment, during our last visit, I was able to see the part of him that has made him so endearing to so many people for so many years.

During the spreading of his ashes, in the native habitat that now carries his name, I got to hear about 10 people talk about Doug and Gail’s legacy and how it impacted their own lives. We were all deeply moved, and we all shared a moment. It was at this time I also met Willow, Tara’s son and Doug and Gail’s grandson, yet another person whom these great people had immeasurable influence over. He also shared some wonderful remembrances of his grandparents. It was such a special day and an honor to be a part of this ceremony held in honor of some really special people. There is more that I could say that will come to mind after I share this with the world, but for now I’m going to end by telling Ted, Tara and Willow that I can’t thank you enough for sharing your dad, mom and grandparents with me all these years. I cannot imagine the struggle of losing both parents in such a short span of time and my heart and love and healing vibes go out to you all.

Ode to My Parents, the Adventurers

At My Wedding, My Mother Wore Red

A Tribute to Doug & Gail Cheeseman

Written by Larry Volpe