I wanted to hike alone on this Friday date night so I could talk with Hubby out loud without anyone knowing how weird I really am:
“I remember the last time you and I hiked this trail. The chemo had almost worked its way out of your system, but you were exhausted from radiation treatments. You decided we’d walk part way before we turned around. We sat on the outcropping of rocks on the east side of the river and ate our lunch. And you were in good spirits, even though we didn’t make the full 3.2-mile loop.
“The times I’ve cried since you’ve been gone are when I think about how much you suffered at the end. You are still my hero. And I’m grateful for so many fabulous memories along so many trails. In the Cascades. The Rockies. The Tetons. With you.”
This is what I said out loud to Hubby this evening along the Deschutes River trail — a trail we’ve hiked a couple hundred times together. And it was not sorrowful to walk alone and remember.