Grief is primarily a solitary slog. If you and your partner end up being thrust into the position of having to share in the journey, then there are times when your parallel paths join and then, depart again.

Briefly, there are times when others come alongside: We both experienced this in the days and weeks following Mark’s death. But then, people go back to wherever they were before the tragedy occurred.

In a nation where our empathy deficit is just one of a host of maladies, this inability of other people to understand at first is maddening, then it becomes the source of anger (or sadness), then eventually you simply stop caring. You are left alone to live in a place you never considered before—but there you are—a ghost among the living.

This weekend, in addition to being pleased with the documentary that was made about Mark, we got to spend time with people who reminded us both of Mark. They were a lot like who he was, believing that our better angels might win out. The filmmaker, Julie Sokolow, is a force to be reckoned with. It would have been enough for Mary and me to have a wonderful film. But, to see Julie in her element, bringing her “A game” to the Heartland International Film Festival, on message in interviews, was a thing to behold. She’s also so easy to be around and we’ve come to consider her a friend in addition to the woman who gets to tell Mark’s story in documentary form. Having spent so much time with Mark and his memories she’s forged a unique connection with his parents.

Barefoot: The Mark Baumer Story (poster by Jim Rugg)

In addition to Julie, her partner Kurt, along with Olivia (the film’s producer), her partner Nate, and Ryan Will Stewart, the composer who scored the film, we were offered a chance to be with people we admire and simply enjoyed being in proximity to. It was one of those rare stretches for us, to be around people who possess many of the qualities that our son carried with him over his adult life.

I also recall times in my life when I’d drive three, four, or even longer stretches to see a band of people I didn’t know except that I liked their music. If Mark had been a friend of mine from school, I think I’d have made the effort to make it out to his premiere.

We both heard so many words at Mark’s celebration of life. Some of these words formed pledges of sorts about being there for his parents. But alas, words are simply words. Words without actions are especially hollow.

I’ll try to come back and share a bit more about Indianapolis. It wasn’t a particularly interesting place. Returning to the place where so many memories our our time as a unit of three were first forged more than two hours away from Indy wasn’t much fun, either. Oh, and flying absolutely sucks, more now, than ever. I simply can’t stand being in such close proximity with total strangers.