Two boys, brothers only a year apart, once dreamt about their futures. They knew exactly what they would be: a fireman. An astronaut. A soldier. A pilot. An architect. A construction worker. They knew exactly what their rewards would be: they'd be rich. They'd be famous. They'd get a new BB gun. They'd have a ten-speed bike. A car! What was to come was a smooth ascent to whatever they wanted. But then, boy-adventures were much more interesting than dreaming about distant things that might someday be, and they went back to biking and exploring the local woods and fishing and catching crawdads.

The future arrived sooner than expected (as it always does), and the younger brother tried his hand at soldiering, and came home with an unanticipated prize: a bride. A young girl, shy and sweet, who laughed a lot and loved him with every glance. Who would have thought that a laughing girl, kind-hearted and generous with love, would be their grandest reward? If one boy could have talked to his younger self, he would have swept away that list of future treasures, and replaced them with a single word: Karen (and the older brother would have done the same, with a different name.)

Two brothers followed different paths, and grew apart, each complete in his partner and his own new family. They talked intermittently, when prompted by grand events: children born, family celebrations, children grown up and married in turn. They saw each other as sporadic signal flares and thunderbolts of joy from distant mountaintops, a topography that had never been planned for in those childish maps of their fates. Nor could they have imagined those good women who had taken every step in the journey, hand in hand.

And then, a brief phone call: "Karen died quietly in her sleep, Wednesday morning."

Two boys…gone, unreachable. I can see them in my mind's eye, a pair riding their bikes along the banks of the Green River, but their minds have become alien to me, simple tissues that have no knowledge of real happiness, and no awareness of grief. The future is a more difficult and complex place than could ever be imagined, with both high clear peaks and deep dark valleys, and we don't traverse it unscathed.

Karen M. Myers, 44, a resident of the Willapa Harbor area for the last 38 years, died at her home in Raymond, Wednesday, Oct. 6, 2004. She was born May 11, 1960 in Spokane to Clarence and Lydia (Lewis) Church.

Karen was a very special person who will always be remembered for her devotion to her family and her sweet and caring nature. She worked for many years at Harbors Home Health and Hospice providing care and comfort to the sick and the elderly until she was disabled by illness herself.

Even as Karen struggled through difficult years of chemotherapy and surgeries, her main concern was to be home to care for her family. She faced all of her fears with strength and courage and passed away peacefully at home surrounded by her loved ones.

Karen is survived by her husband of 26 years, James Myers, who resides at the family home in Raymond; two sons, Evan Myers of Raymond and Charles Myers of Auburn; a daughter and son-in-law, Rachael and Ken Hahn of Kent; her parents, Clarence and Lydia Church of Menlo; her grandmother, Ellean Lewis of Menlo; five sisters, Debbie Smith of Menlo, Liz Church of Longview, Darlene Neff of Shelton, Marlene Church of Centralia, and Julia Troop of Aberdeen, and a brother, Joseph Church of Centralia. Karen is also survived by numerous aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews.

(from the Pacific County Press, 13 October 2004)