My Year of Death Travels

Mt Greylock Sept 2022

When I look back on the last 9 months I can hardly believe all that has happened, it’s hard to grasp all the places I have travelled. In the depths of my soul and in the beauty of the world. I know I have not done a solid job of being consistent with writing while on my trips or soon there after but it has been a tough year with a lot to learn. Dialoguing so intimately with ourselves to be witnessed by others is not always something that needs to happen in real time. Sometimes we need the solitude and silence to work through a big life change before we grab a hold of the goopy wound and say to others ‘here take a look at this with me’. That is where I was for a little while.

So, tonight I want to share with you all an epic hike I went on all by myself in Massachusetts, back in September. I hiked up to the top of Mt. Greylock, the highest peak in the state of MA with Mommy. Round trip the whole thing took me 10 hours. I had to climb boulders, read a map, follow wonky signs, and walk with a good step so my meditation bell I strapped to my pink backpack would ring alerting beings with sharp teeth that I was in the woods with them. I adore nature and being outside in her embrace, but wandering off like this is not a norm for me. I was scared and also really ready to go.

I picked a route that gave me two different lookout views on my way up so that I would have periodic rewards (something I require-I like my gold stars of achievement). I hopped out of my car deeply satisfied with myself for packing my own pack and taking this bold step. With everything strapped in place I started up the trail, when maybe 3 minutes on the trail my bum began to feel VERY cold and VERY wet. Immediately irritated I pulled everything back off to find that my camelback was ever so gracefully leaking, leaving my butt and base of my pack wet. This was not a warm day either so the breeze was felt most acutely. I had the choice here to say fuck it or keep going. I decided to get creative and finagle a way to stop the leak, I then pressed onward.

When I made it to the 1st look out I was THRILLED! I could already see such a distance and the flora was beautiful. I warmed up enough and my bottom went numb enough that I was able to keep going without thinking about the unfortunate beginning too much. For the first couple of hours I really enjoyed myself and had that delusion feeling of ‘I could walk forever!’ Then I hit that wall of wondering when was I ever going to be done and my 4 year old self wondered if we were there yet. Even then I kept pushing along. I was rewarded again for my persistence by happening upon a beautiful small pond.

It is not an exaggeration to say I was pooped when I made it to the top, but let me tell you I was SO damn proud of myself too. I found a corner at the summit to plop my belongings down on and walked out to a ledge where I could let Mommy’s ashes catch the wind and dance to her new resting place. I cried as I did regularly at that time, feeling the sharp pain of loss in my core. I then settled in for a picnic and a nap before starting the long journey back to where I began, but not the same woman.

I don’t honestly know how this last year happened. I don’t know where the time went, I know I was living and doing things, but looking back it feels like there was a blanket over me, like I was here but not really here. I have likened it to feeling like I am waking up from a lucid dream. There is only 2 months left before the 1yr anniversary of Mommy’s crossing. How can that be? It feels important for me to share this grieving process with you because I hope to help normalize that it is ok to ‘fall apart’ in grief. There is no sensible reason why we should try to live like nothing happened and that for a time we can not participate in life like we usually do. In fact as I sit here thinking, what a disrespect to that being’s life as well as the love you shared to try and pretend that life has not broken open beneath your feet with the loss. Removing ourselves from regular life during grief is not weakness but an honoring of a love-the exchange that makes living have value. Sometimes when we see others give themselves permission we feel brave enough to do the same. This is me giving myself permission and I hope you take from that what you need.

In 8 months I went to the desert in Colorado, the ocean in Cape Cod, the peak of Mt. Greylock, a week long grief retreat in Costa Rica, County Clare Ireland, and finally 3 weeks back in Costa Rica for my yoga teacher training certification. Each of these trips brought me a step closer to the new woman I am to become. I promise to share these travels and photos with you in the coming weeks. What I realized with all this travel in such a short period of time is that I did these things so that I could feel alive if just for a few days and to escape the daily reminders of loss.

I want to assure you that this is a recounting of where I was, not where I am today. You are going to learn about my triumph’s as well as when I fell on my face. The times like when Pipi passed away and I was unsure how much more death I could take before I myself shriveled up and blew away in the wind. Spoiler alert I didn’t blow away. In fact this final return trip from abroad, I have been able to accept the truth that she is gone, and with that has come a release of the acute pain of disbelief. I am back in the world as a social worker and activist, able to return to the world with original parts of myself and some new ones as well. I even have the capacity now to begin charting what my next series will be about after I close out the death travels. The lights are turning on inside one by one.

Thank you for reading my loves, until the next time ❤ L.

(As I finish this, in the middle of a city there is an owl outside my window hooting away!)