I belong to a few unofficial support groups. One is my cancer-kicking hike group. Another is my Monday evening knitting posse. And then there’s the dog-petting, picture-taking, leaf-throwing, coffee-drinking Saturday morning walking group. Also cancer-kicking.
I first walked with this group as part of my cancer center job (back then it might have been to keep them in line). But I now attend because they’re part of my fabulous support system. Lifetime membership. Whether I want it or not.
It’s amazing how quickly a year roars past. A year ago—as Hubby was slipping away from me—buckets of love were pouring into our lives. Rivers. Waterfalls of love.
Change is in the air in my hometown. Even though it’s come late this year, downtown Bend is sporting new apparel that had been stashed in her autumn closet.
The idea was to leave a gift on someone’s front porch on September 22 in honor of Hubby’s birthday and our anniversary. Participants were asked to take a photo of the gift, and then post to Facebook or send via email with a blurb about who and why.
I’m pleased to report that the Porch Fairy was seen as far away as Lijiang, Yunnan Province in China.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, walking through Switzerland extended my life. I’m thinking they should have charged more for the tour.
There’s good reason for beauty — beauty in nature; in art; in the act of creating something. And believe me, the Swiss know how to do beauty. In their mountains. Their mountain lakes. Their ancient buildings.
Yesterday, we took a train to the world’s highest train station. Jungfraujoch at 11,388 feet.
At the end of the line, most of us walked even higher. Eyeball-to-eyeball with a glacier.
The plan was to bring the remainder of Hubby’s ashes with me. But I forgot them.
Which means I have to return to Switzerland. Have to.
Today we hiked up into the mountains below the Matterhorn. Hubby would have loved it. The exercise. The beauty. The mountain air. This fabulous group of fellow trekkers.
Hubby and I took up hiking and snowshoeing in our cancer years. We hiked the magnificent Cascades, Tetons and Rockies. And started stashing away loose change for some Swiss Alps hiking.
Hubby got his passport; I got mine renewed. And our loose change grew large enough to book a trip. But we ran out of time. And so I saved a few of Hubby’s ashes. And I’m leaving tomorrow for a ten-day walking tour in Switzerland.
Go Ahead Tours photo
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.
A few years into Hubby’s cancer diagnosis—after we had started eating more fruits, veggies and whole grains and fewer chocolate chip cookies, chocolate cake and chocolate ice cream—Hubby makes up a rule. “On my birthday, I get to eat whatever I want.”
OK, I’ll allow one rule.
September 22, 2013 – Steamboat Springs, Colorado
Hence, the ganache. Essentially dark chocolate rolled in a light dusting of crumbs and quickly deep fried. With gelato on the side. And drizzled with additional dark chocolate.
I don’t make these things up.
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