My Heart is Riding Shotgun

Tim and I were in Sedonna for a few days to ring in 2013. This was a place we visited quite often. On this occasion, it was colder than we had planned for and in fact, it snowed.

Did anyone notice this blog is posted two weeks later than my usual schedule? Thank you to the three people who checked in with me about it.

Tim had been in the hospital for four nights. On the morning of the fifth day, we put in motion the decision we had already made together, to transfer him into hospice care within the hospital. 

In 2023, I went on 86 hikes, thirty-two of which were on trails new to me. For the past four years, I’ve been documenting my annual hiking activity. It’s not a race. It’s not a goal.

It was just nearly six years ago that Tim and I hiked in Rocky Mtn National Park. Instead of going to a main entrance, we chose an area that was actually only trail head parking. No gate. No ranger.

A few months ago a man left three voice messages for my sister, Jackie, in less than 24 hours. He said he grew up in the area and was calling to inquire about my Mom.

Today, I am reminded of this, when someone you love, who you are immensely invested in, has just died, anything and everything that you try to do, that you did without hesitation even one minute

My blog has been live since March 2020. I’ve published 78 entries and have had 5,370 visitors and 10,705 views. When I started, I didn’t have a hard list of goals.

Although I am not a risk taker, I have rarely shied away from a challenge. And for me, one of the surprising things I’ve found in grief is, it has made me feel like there’s nothing to lose.

It is fairly frequent that I write about hiking, and always, it’s more than that. Because there are analogies with life and grief that shouldn’t be ignored.

For fifteen years, I traveled several times a month for work. I loved it and missed it when it ended. There are skills you develop when you are living that life.

Acceptance. As it relates to death, once upon a time, I thought it meant accepting that the person is no longer physically with us. Accepting that it can’t be changed.