Sunrises with Shay

As fresh snow blanketed the towering pines and the winding streets, I stared out the window, desperate to get myself a slice of that ivory heaven.

I had spent countless winters in the Adirondacks, a short drive from my hometown of Toronto, and the mere sight of acre after white-washed acre never failed to steal my breath away. The winter wonderland exuded a serenity that was majestic yet humbling, like the entire stretch of paradise was mine to revel in despite my relative insignificance.

In my youth, feeling the rush of wind against my cheeks while skiing down Titus Mountain had been a staple of the holiday season, and I made sure that Jerome and Janice got a taste of that adrenaline rush when they were old enough. Even when my stamina wasn't what it used to be, the kids and I would still share craft beer and jokes by the fireplace, or watch lumberjack competitions at Tupper Lake.

God, I loved those days. But the one that burned brightest in my memory was the morning I dragged Shay out of bed to catch the sunrise that would change our lives forever.

The hint of sunlight peeking from behind the curtain of overhead clouds reminded me of that morning as I trudged out into the snow-capped road. The street lamp fought a lonely, losing battle against the shadows all around, and the air was beyond chilly. But with Shay's hand entwined around mine, that was perfection in a nutshell for me.

We had taken a leisurely drive down to Lake Placid without another vehicle in sight for miles, towering pines swaying in line with the wind's howl. Knowing how she hated silence, I'd switched on the radio, grateful for Air Supply classics to set the mood.

We pulled up as close to the lake as we could, soaking in the majestic sight of the frozen water peppered by starry lights from the houses in the distance. Shay was beaming from ear to ear, finally convinced that the impending sunrise had been worth waking up for.

Our eyes met, sending shockwaves through me as I fought to keep a steady breath. Typical me - ten feet from the finish line, and fumbling with the baton. I slipped off my gloves, ignoring the biting cold that assaulted my bare skin, and reached into my pocket.

Shay had probably guessed what had been coming - she'd always had the ability to read me like an open book - but having her fantasy manifested in the flesh still evoked rivulets of joyful tears. I don't remember exactly what I said, but the image of sweeping the love of my life off her feet in a bear hug as she nodded vigorously still remained vivid to this day.

Life and children ensued, but the romance of the Adirondacks imprinted on Shay and myself to the extent that we made a pact to return and spend our retirement years running a heartfelt holiday inn here. It was our way of returning to the slice of heaven that had symbolised our new life together.

Sadly, fate dictated that Shay couldn't keep her end of the bargain, but losing her only made me more determined to come full circle on our dream.

Shaking off my stupor, I trudged pensively away from The Olive Cottage, but mind continued revolving around the ten years since Shay's departure. The lodge bore testament to the fulfilment of our pact, but it could never come close to filling the Shay-shaped void in my heart. She was the only one who understood me viscerally, my anchor in a life of ups and downs.

Shay kept me grounded. Without her, I'd become rudderless in a tempestuous ocean of grief. There were times when I'd feel like the world was just passing me by, my grasp on reality gradually slipping.

As my shoulders sagged with the weight of the world, I looked down on the ground and gasped. How had I walked a quarter-mile from the lodge in such heavy snow and not left a single footprint? I blinked away the tears and focused on retracing the distance traversed.

Not a single dip in the snow, much less a footprint. It was as if I'd floated the entire way.

I must be going nuts, because as knackered as I was, logic dictated that the laws of physics still applied to grieving souls.

I started circling in exaggerated steps, praying that my delirium hadn't gotten the better of me. And yet, it was as if I was walking on JFK's runway instead of the undulating snow - not a single depression or footprint registered.

None of this made any sense, and I was desperate for someone's explanation on what the hell was going on. But the day had just broken, and there was a chance I wouldn't find another soul for miles in a secluded town like ours.

I sank to my knees on the snow, the magnitude of my weightlessness threatening to swallow me whole. If watching Shay slip away had left me teetering on the brink of desolation, I was convinced that I now had one foot mired in insanity.

And then I heard the rumblings from Bittersweet Speakeasy, my favourite pub situated at the end of the cul-de-sac we lived in. From where I was, the bustle sounded so welcoming, drawing me closer as I sought refuge in its familiarity. I staggered to my feet and trudged over, the woes of my invisible footprints all but forgotten.

As I round the corner towards the speakeasy, there's clinking of glasses and cheers all around - unheard of at such an early hour. Was it Nancy's birthday, or Lennon's? It couldn't be, because I always remembered everyone's special day, and I always got invited to the celebrations.

And then it hit me - wreaths of white sunflowers adorning the pub's entrance, juxtaposed against the black ensemble worn by almost everyone. A funeral at the crack of dawn? What was the world coming to?

With the doors already wide open, I strode into the sitting area lined with barstools and regulars toting beer mugs.

"Dear friends, thank you for gathering so early this morning in remembrance of our dear brother, who left us yesterday peacefully in his sleep. Today isn't a day of mourning, but one of celebration ..."

As I tuned out Reverend Brown's soothing baritone, the puzzle pieces finally began to fall in place. My friends and loved ones, all gathered together. Right at the front, a cherished photo leaned against a classic, mahogany coffin.

Decades had elapsed, but I'd never forgotten that smile. My smile, taken the moment after I'd proposed to my wife.

It all made sense now.

Wait up for me, Shay. We've got a lifetime of sunrises to catch together.