Memory Lane

I've always loved hiking. I guess you could call me an "active relaxer". The meditation of placing one foot in front of the other in a relentless march forward, slogging through muddy forests or scrambling up steep summits, taking in new horizons and finding new perspectives; it quenches my thirst for life.

So I find myself walking on a path I haven't walked before, although it seems familiar, like something out of a movie I've seen. I'm not sure where it started or where it's going, but right now that doesn't matter to me.

With every step a memory comes alive around me. It's like watching a film where I'm the main character and the story is my life. No, it's not like watching, it's more like being in a high-definition immersive experience where all my senses are amplified. It feels so real, it's as though I'm right back in that moment.

I'm thrown into my childhood bedroom, the purple paint on the door peeling, posters of Leonardo DiCaprio pinned recklessly on the walls, my biology textbook open on the week's reading. I'm on the floor, clutching my stomach, gasping for breath. The fear of Dad hearing us and knowing we're up so late keeps our laughter from spilling out into the room. Just as I think I am getting control of myself I catch my twin sister Sydney's eye. Tears are rolling down her freckled cheeks, and I lose it again. Our rocky teenage relationship was constantly bubbling and boiling over into fights while we were trying to figure out who we were, pushing each other away in an attempt to forge our own identities, while longing for the closeness we used to share. Rolling around in fits of giggles at stupid jokes that only made sense to us, the troubles of teenagehood briefly forgotten, those were the best times.

A puppy bounds up to me, bringing my awareness back to the trail where I was before. I crouch down easily; nothing seems to hurt here and my knee joints glide effortlessly, allowing me to reach down and pat the wriggly puppy. I'm rewarded with a quick lick on my nose, before he jumps away, distracted by a squirrel, and I resume walking into the sunset. 

It's my favorite time of day, a hundred gradients of vibrant red, orange and pink hues spread over the sky like lavish paintings on a broad canvas. I used to take so many photos of sunsets - social media saw the best of them - but here I stay in the moment and take in the beauty, basking in the joy it brings.

I walk past crags where my friends and I are climbing, snowy mountains with knee-deep powder we are carving through on skis, and sandy beaches where the afternoons stretch out, inviting us to bodysurf the waves until we are spent. Above the sound of the ocean, a voice carries a high note and I find myself standing in a thick crowd staring at Florence (And The Machine) as she spins in her white dress, bare feet moving so fast she's almost floating. She looks like an angel and I squeeze Jude's hand as a lump hardens in my throat and tears brim to the surface of my eyes. She is mesmerizing, and the live experience of her singing “our” song overwhelms me. Jude's thumb turns my face towards his and his soft lips push against mine, conveying his feelings better than he ever could with words.

I am still weak from the lustful kiss when I step into the shade of the forest to continue my journey. More memories spring up and I relive moment after moment of joy and connection. Graduation, winning that team adventure race, Sydney's wedding, the last family Christmas with Dad. It's as though my life is flashing before my eyes, except it's not a flash, it's more of a slow meander; a “trip down memory lane.”

Here, there is no pain. My feet keep stepping, one in front of the other, and any feelings of weariness, hunger or thirst are light years away, as though they are not part of this world. Emotional pain is just as distant; I have no concept of the stress or worry that used to grind me down. Only peace. As long as I keep walking, joy, happiness, pleasure, satiety for life will walk with me on this path that never ends, laying out in twists and curves in front of me and playing my favorite memories back to me over and over again.

The scent of chocolate chip cookies arouses my senses and I am at home. My current home, so it must be a recent memory. Mum appears from the kitchen, butterfly apron on, a tray of freshly baked cookies in her hands. She smiles so warmly. Her famous smile; at least, famous in my family. ‘Thanks, Mum, you didn't have to.’

‘I know, I know, but how often do I get to bake for my girls?’

‘Old ladies, you mean,’ I cheekily swipe back. We turned 61 last year. It used to grate on me that Mum still wanted us to be her little kids. But ever since I got sick, I reached a place of acceptance - "radical acceptance," as my therapist calls it. We were her life, and everything she did was for us, even in her old age.

I pluck a cookie from the tray and bite into the still warm dough, chocolate melting in my mouth; nothing can match the nostalgia of that first bite. ‘Mmmm, Mum, you've outdone yourself.’ She beams and I continue walking, cookie in hand, leaping from rock to rock, the flow of the river gushing through the valley, as deafening as a thunderstorm battering the evening sky.

Suddenly I stop. I stand still for a moment, wondering what caused me to pause here, and then realize there's something I have to do. I can't keep walking, not yet. Through sheer force, I draw myself away from this place and pain rushes back into my body. My eyes startle open and the first thing I see is Jude's face, screwed up in anguish. He's squeezing my hand, hard, as though if he lets go he'll lose me forever. Sydney’s there, and Benny, her pup. Mum holds my other hand and her red eyes tell me she's been crying, but now she gives me her warmest smile, the smile that greeted me every day coming home from school, welcoming me back to this world. I don't have the heart to tell her I won't be here for long. In this world, there is an end. I can't keep taking this path, the pain is too much.

Love radiates around the room, bonding us in this moment. The people I have been closest to in this life, all together. I need to tell Jude it's okay, I am going to be at peace. I try to speak but it takes more energy than I have left. The pain threatens to overcome me now. My throat is dry.

I force Jude to look me in the eye and I know how to tell him everything he needs to know. I slowly blink, holding his gaze as long as possible, then open my eyes again, just as slowly. The muscles in his face soften, his grip on my hand loosens. He slowly blinks back at me. Our sign language that means “I love you” and so much more. I am safe with you. I care for you. Everything is okay. He nods. He gets it. The atmosphere in the room changes; peace is what holds us together now. I let myself drift off again and find the path I left before, waiting for me.

My bare feet sink into the soil, connecting my soul with the land and all who have walked here before me. I hear branches swishing gently in the breeze, jostling for space in the dense canopy above. I automatically take a deep breath in through my nose and the familiar scent of the forest welcomes me. A light mist rises through the trees as the rising sun dries the raindrops that had settled into the leaves. I step into the sun and it warms my skin in a loving embrace, just when I need it the most.

They say life is about the journey, not the destination. Well, it turns out death is a journey too; at least, it is for me. I am so glad I got to tell Jude my journey will be peaceful. Better still, I don't have to “rest” in peace; I get to “actively relax” in peace. He will be so happy for me. I look ahead at the path laid before me, and I start walking.