Grief/Relief (Gary)
I am by myself again today. It's a warm afternoon, with a light shade of smog over the valley. That means it looks pretty good. I have yet to see the smog so bad this summer that I can't witness the east foothills. Part of me wants to believe that the air quality is actually improving.
I leave from the parking spot that is closer to the trailhead. It just means about ten minutes less of black asphalt and fewer cars on the narrow road. It also means a longer hike on the mountain in order to get in a one-hour hike. I’ll end on a steeper grade beyond the Tree of Healing in what Mark describes as “the desert” because it consists of the dry road traversing a portion of the mountainside that is all rock above and below the road without a trace of green. I like the flavor of that challenge. At the highest point is an overlook with a round, brass marker that identifies the name of The Hill and declares that it is a preserved wilderness.
It is definitely harder to hike when it's hot, and I feel the burden of the hot air hitting my lungs. I persist and the hike is going well. Well, that is, until I get just about to the beginning of the Hill of Cruelty. Deep sighs, more sensitive, cry. Feeling grief at a depth I never felt before. I find myself suddenly feeling emotions, and reflecting on the loss of one of my close friends some years ago.
I find myself choking on my breath, and I keep pushing despite the emotions trying to take away my air. Tears come. It's ancient grief, but it is back to visit today from a very deep place. I go further into the feelings, and find not my grief, but the grief of my friend's wife.
An event a long time ago: my friend, Rick, has died.
My wife and I go to his wake at their home. The bar is open and everyone is having a drink. My friend’s wife, now his widow, who is a very pretty woman, pulls me into a side room that is partially curtained off. She sits me down. I am simply following because I am here to honor and respect my friend, and I do what she wants without hesitation or thought. She surprises me by kissing me. Simple me, I think it is just a simple kiss, until I realize she wants to keep kissing me. I feel her lips now. They are not seductive or sexual. They are lips that want connection, and here on the mountain I now feel the grief those lips carried.
My friend and I looked alike in many ways, fair skin, Nordic type I guess you would say. I would also say we had a gentle and happy presentation. People could have thought we were brothers. I am crying now as I let in this ancient memory, and really get the depth of her grief and the depth of her need to reconnect with her man, her lover, her friend.
I stamp forward and eventually catch my breath without ever giving up a moment toward the top. Only then can I let go. I promise myself I will allow relief at the top even though part of me wants to throw up. Ah, the top. I made it in only one second behind my last time. And I found relief from an old grief that I have carried since 1986.
The mountain has done it again. It seems each step is a page, and every climb is a deep process of unwinding and releasing feelings long held. The return is but a re-entry and a release from what I carried up the mountain.
How do you release the tension you carry in your body? How do you process your grief, and does it provide you with relief? You may want to take a moment and put words to it. We all need to grieve to have a tomorrow.
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