Rest in Peace, Dear 399

In life, some moments jar you. Some moments steal the breath from your lungs and callously remind you that you’re not in control, not even a little. The death of 399 feels a lot like that to me.

I didn’t know about her for as long as so many around the world have, but she came into my life in a period of profound darkness, amidst COVID-19 lockdowns, broken friendships, poor health, and a vague sense that the structures around me were steadily breaking down. Then, one day, this incredible old bear with four impossibly small cubs came into my Facebook stream, and, just like that, there was something that felt like hope.

I knew I needed to see her, not as a photographer, but as a person drifting through a chaotic life so insistent on unraveling. I don’t know why she carried so much weight, so much meaning, so much possibility to choose better than what we as humans create, domesticate, dominate, and utilize for ourselves. I can’t put it into words, so I won’t try.

All I can say is that when I did see her, when I was in her presence for the first, second, and unbeknownst to me final time, I experienced an overwhelming sense of something more, something bigger, something kinder, something more like love than all the discord and confusion we willingly swallow down day, after day, after day.

There was just something about her - about who she was, what she accomplished, her tender motherly love, and the wild places she represented - spaces that are dwindling and breaking down the further we move into the future, so out of step with reality. There was something synchronous, free, confident, and captivating about her. It was a privilege to have seen her. She was a gift. A truly wondrous gift.

This isn’t nearly as eloquent as I would like it to be, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m grieving and feeling the hurt of this loss. I know I shouldn’t have let myself love a wild animal so profoundly, yet here I am with all the others who’ve done the same.

We loved. We lost.

I’m so very grateful for what we had.

From the first time I ever saw her and her four miracle cubs.