Hiking Through It

The lake is so far away that I can’t hear the waves lapping, but I can imagine their sound as I’m looking at them. I’m at the summit of the hours-long hike leading to this point, and all I can hear is the panting of my dog, Journey, beside me, and the wind rustling through the trees and weeds, but the view quite literally takes my breath away.

Trees surround the far-away lake for miles in every direction. In the distance, I can see a mountain rising up, higher than the small one I’d already climbed. I take a deep breath, trying to appreciate the view. That’s what the hike was supposed to be about.

Tears burn in my eyes and a painful knot forms in my throat. I don't let the tears fall. I wasn’t supposed to be here alone. I was supposed to be joined by Him. I’d never gone on a hike before Him, and I’m not sure if this will be the only one I ever finish. That’s not what this is about, though.

A year ago, I would not have been able to imagine my being here. I had already been through so much. After three separate miscarriages that led to my marriage falling apart at just 22 years old, I moved across the country to forget about all of it.

I was supposed to take the time to find myself. That was my plan when I got on the plane with just one suitcase on my way to my new apartment, on the way to my new life.

Instead, I met him at a bar a week after I moved in. I was out with my neighbor, my only friend in the whole city, when he walked up to us and offered to buy me a martini. I’d never had a martini, but I went with it because I thought it would be rude to say no. I hated it, but I didn’t tell him that.

We scheduled a date for a week later, where we ate sushi and drank martinis, and learned about each other. I didn’t tell him that I hated sushi because I didn’t want to make it a big deal, and I wasn’t sure I’d even see him again. We scheduled another date soon after that.

Slowly, I found myself completely lost in him and everything that he loved to do.

Hiking? I pretended to love it because I thought he’d like me more if I could keep up with him on the treks through the woods. When he noticed the tags still on my hiking backpack during our second date, I lied and told him I bought it new recently after throwing my old pack away. There was no old pack. It was just this one, the same one on my back filled with supplies now.

The next date, he wanted to go to a winery in the country. The old me hated wine. The one who was dating him, though, she loved wine. She drank so much of it that I threw up in the winery bathroom. When he wanted to move in together, I gave up my only solitary space, the apartment I’d spent months making my own, and moved into his because he liked that it was closer to his work. I didn’t put up my decorations because they weren’t his style.

I didn’t have any of my own friends, but that was okay because I became best friends with his best friends.

I toy with the ring, sitting heavy on the third finger on my left hand, the one with the large diamond and silver band that I don't even like. When he’d given it to me, I’d been ecstatic. It was the perfect ring for the perfect woman, and I was his perfect woman. I was everything he wanted me to be, but I didn't realize at the time that I didn’t even recognize myself. I told myself it was okay because he recognized me. He wanted me. He needed me. Nothing else mattered.

He was the perfect partner, truly. A large part of me believes that if I would have spent my entire life with him, I would have been happy with that. We would have had a house with a white picket fence out in the country where he would work remotely and only travel a few days a week. I would have found something to do out there, other than raise our two perfect children and take care of our pets and cook his dinner. It would have been a beautiful life, but I’m not sure that it would have been right for me.

Now, He was gone. Taken by the allure of motorcycles in a big city and a slick road and brakes that didn’t respond fast enough in semi-trucks. Taken from me. The person I was was only what he’d wanted me to be, and I hated him for that. I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but thinking ill of them has to be different.

His friends and family reached out after the accident, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to them. I didn’t even know who I was without him. I moved out of his apartment because it was still, after all, his apartment. I took off across the country once again, chasing a new beginning that I wasn’t sure I really wanted or deserved.

I took back all the hobbies I’d had before we met. I started painting again. I adopted my dog, which encouraged me to get out and go on long walks.

On one of those walks, I became curious about who I would be if he had he still been here. Would I have grown to love the things he loved, a winery-hopping hiking enthusiast, or would I have become a shell of myself?

We’d been planning to do this hike together, and, if I’m being honest, I was absolutely dreading it. Walking for miles and miles of elevation with few stops just to get to a view of a lake I had no connection with wasn’t appealing to me.

After he died, though, I grew curiouser and curiouser about what this hike would hold. What would it feel like to conquer the mountain? To walk all the way up on my own legs just because I wanted to? Would I be able to feel a sense of accomplishment that I would have never had had I done this with him? Would I put myself through that kind of hardship just to take in a breathtaking view?

Through this hike, the one I went on alone, I was hoping to find myself.

I take a moment to let the tears fall down my cheeks. I feel them wash away the past two years before I turn away from the breathtaking view, wipe my eyes, and call for Journey to follow me. We're done with the climb. Now, I know that it will only get easier. I slide the ring off my finger and into my pocket, taking a deep breath and feeling the air move into my lungs and out. One step after the other.