Hiking and grieving

When I first hiked, I gradually added more distance to my hikes until distance was no issue. Then I added more weight to my backpack. Gradually, I added more and more weight until I carried all the gear that I could possibly need. If you are a heavy set guy, this may not be such a big deal, but if you are me that backpack quickly represents half of your body mass. But it is not so much the physical aspect that makes this possible. It is far more important that you are preparing mentally for this. Or, as I was told over and over again years ago in the military, it is all “between the ears”. And it is, really.

When someone close passes away, there is pain to deal with. The closer that person has been, the intenser that pain is. In contrast to popular belief, it never fades, it never vanishes. It seems that over time it becomes a contest in mental endurance. As minutes, hours, days and years go by the pain is becoming a part of me, it is becoming an increasingly familiar sensation that needs to be carried around like that backpack with ever increasing weight. It is not as if that backpack is getting any lighter over time but my mental abilities to be able to deal with it improve.

When September 17 approached, my phone alerted my of the upcoming birthday of George. Not that I ever need to be reminded of the birthdays of those that are dear to me. For an entire week I stared at the blinking light on my phone, knowing well what the reminder was for. I just couldn’t put myself to clearing the alert. September 17 came and went and the alert cleared itself. And then it struck me. I have always cleaned up my contact list but I have not been able to do that this time. I just cannot get myself to pressing the delete button. I like looking at his picture when I browse through my contact list, looking for a specific person, and then accidentally halting the cursor near his name. I like the ability to click on his name and stare at his picture for a few seconds before carrying on. And I have come to the realization that I am OK with that. It is just that sometimes, when I least expect it, it brings a tear to my eyes when something seemingly insignificant reminds me of something of our past. But I have also come to the realization that I am even OK with that.

Because, honestly, I would dread the day that I can hike the trail of life with my mental back pack of pain without giving my family and friends that live on in my memories a second thought.