What Loss and The Mountains Share

Bit by bit, everything is changing. Some of it within my control. Other parts not. With each bit of new, I find myself considering how it is no longer the way you knew it when you were here. From a new couch, to selling our van, and even the new view from our patio due to trees fallen in a recent storm. All of it, no longer the way it was when you left.

It has been hard for me to grapple with this. More difficult than I expected. For some of the simplest changes, I did not realize that I would feel an emotional reaction. It just happened. The way grief does. Out of nowhere. Hard. Sharp. Unignorable and overwhelming.

Nature has this resilient way of enduring mass destruction through storms, yet cultivating new growth below and beyond the debris. What once was is never gone. Instead, it enriches the new life that comes from within it. They are intertwined for the rest of eternity. Loss is also like this. When we lose someone who was part of the fabric of our lives, our longing becomes part of our souls. While people we know provide us wishes to heal, we know that loss and grief never dissolves. We must figure out how to endure it for the rest of our lives.

There are unreasonable moments. Moments that you know do not make any sense; clearly unrealistic. Yet, you still go along with them as a form of self-preservation and protection. How is it that I can convince myself that my dog might come back? Tell myself that there is no way this horror can be true. Like inception, we will wake up from this nightmare soon. Raya will be sleeping next to us on her bed. Peaceful and content. Safe. I will be relieved because I will realize I had suffered the worst night terror of my life, all fabricated. Or, what if she could be staying with a family member or friend? One day we might come home and she will be here waiting. Or, the front door will randomly open and in she will come. No questions asked, I would obsess over her and slather her with my love.

If only any of the above could be true. There is a realistic understanding that what the above suggests is both unreasonable and unrealistic. Impossible. But, we cannot help ourselves from playing out these fantasies. The alternate universes of what could be. Wishing that the unthinkable could be the most incredible magic trick we have ever been awed by.

See, I had this dream recently. It was weird. What dreams aren’t? I was with an acquaintance; the wife of a former co-worker. She was caring for a sick family member. We talked about how hard it was to slowly watch someone decline while caring for them and also loving them so deeply. She asked me if I had ever been in love? I answered that I had been [in love] with people, but that I was in love with my dog in a way that I had never loved anyone else. I began sobbing through my words. Explaining how recently we had lost our girl.

Through my dream, I realized that somehow it feels easier to be honest with a near stranger than to show my vulnerability to those closest to me. Part of this could be attributed to my own protective self; one that acts with hyper-vigilance to outsmart the anticipated and outrun negative feelings. Somehow, that never works. The feelings always catch up, immune to the bullshit that we try to convince ourselves of.

I think this is why I love to turn to the mountains. Within that ascension, one foot in front of the other, you are forced to feel every bit of discomfort. You endure with stubbornness, adamant to reach the summit. The mountains provide an escape that requires its trekkers to accept pain before peace. A reminder that the only way to deal with most things is to go through them.

We all know all too well how unpredictable the mountains are. Conditions can change in an instant. Once again, your are forced to face reality, whether you want to or not. Most times, your safety and life depend on it. This is merely another way that the mountains spare none of us. Knowingly, we plan for the unexpected. We plan to be prepared. We are even okay with this notion. If the unexpected happens, we are convinced we have the tools required; and sometimes those who are green are convinced that they are bigger than the mountains. That’s the thing, though. When we love the mountains, we accept that they do not care about us, our wants or wishes. They provide us a love-it-or-leave-it system that exposes our vulnerability. We still face it. Time and time again, we accept the mountains for the struggle they will present us, yet the peace they will afford.

Loss is like the mountains. One foot in front of the other, through the crag, I am trudging through. Uncomfortable. Eager to procure a sense of peace through the pain.