I finally got back to the trails this morning. Felt “normal” but also wrong because there really isn’t a normal for me anymore.
As I listened to my playlist in one ear and the crunching of the earth in my other, I thought of what would normally happen after I wrapped up another hike if you were still here. I would get a text message from you at some point, short and sweet, “Any 🐍 today?” I would know that you checked up on me from 2000 miles away by scoping out my location on Google maps and I would chuckle to myself thinking about it and reply, “Not today! Thankfully!” That would be it most of the time. It would irritate me and humor me that you already knew where I was.
Having a new perspective on this, not just because you have passed away, because we talked about it while I spent time with you in Michigan during your final weeks. You exclaimed that it wasn’t stalking as so many people called it. It was his way of not just checking that I was okay but also to live life through me and even at times pass it on to my Mom. “Andy is back at San Tan!” Or something to that degree. My Dad dreamed of living a high life and going and doing amazing things. And he did some amazing things in his day. But this is his way of still having adventures and meeting new goals…through me. So as I got sad as I thought about that, I came upon my favorite part of the San Tan Trail, just where you reach the peak of a hill and can see the vastness and beauty of the valley. And the rising sun cast the perfect amount of shadow to make it appear even grander than it may be. It was in that moment I stepped to the side of the trail to pull out my camera phone to capture that sight, and I smiled and turned to my left because I could feel you there staring at that perfect moment with me. And I said to you in my head, “See? You got to finally see this in real life.” It may sound sad and frankly it is sad, but it gave me the levity I needed in that moment to enjoy one of my favorite things and not punish myself for it. My Dad will get to be with me on all my adventures now, in my heart, by my side and eventually when I get my ring with his ashes, on my hand, the hand that I used to hold his while I said goodbye. He will always be there to provide me with the comfort and strength and even companionship I will need as I continue to live and create a new normal without him. Just as he will for my mom and my brother. I can imagine my Dad standing next to Scott, with his too big of heart sometimes, as he plays with his children and loves them immensely…placing his hand on his shoulder whispering, “I’m so proud of you and the wonderful family that you helped to make”. And again, it will give my brother the levity he needs in that moment to have some happiness within the grief, because my Dad is there with him and smiling.
As for the tough cookie that is my mom, I know he is with her the most as she navigates this world without him and gives her strength and love. Even when she comes in after shoveling or plowing the snow for the millionth time. I can imagine him chuckling in the way he did that we all know so well, saying, “Look at you Carol! I guess I should have been having you do that all these years!” And her smiling with pride.
He will be there for each of us in little ways, that have felt his absence and been forever changed by it. I see you there Dad! What adventure shall we take next week? 😉
Making Yourself a Priority in Your Own Life's Story 