My baby boy Stephen...

 

August went in a blur. Like living in a haze. How's the sun still rising? The pain is unbearable at times, washing over like an ocean wave, and I can't breathe. Somehow I go on. The last 10 years have been extremely hard on my boy, and subsequently, on me. But I would give anything to bring all, any, just one of those moments, back. 💔 Processing grief is an individual, and more likely than not, a very lonely, path. With Larry at my side through it all, the years, and the last many hours, I took one step at a time. I will take a few thousand more. 

August went in a blur. Like living in a haze. Hearing the most horrific news. Trip to Portland, saying goodbye to my younger son, carrying his ashes back home. Attempting to get through a 100M race in San Juan mountains, because I felt I needed to be strong - and DNFing with the earliest onset and worst body lean of my 6 previous. Mentally parting with 100M distance, just like I parted with Colorado Trail FKT - and in that moment not even feeling sadness. Who cares, really? Arranging my boy's final resting place. Closing the lead on niche #30 (how appropriate, for the 30 years Stephen walked on this side of the grass), with the views of Lady Tava, at our oldest cemetery...

Slowly, the world is beginning to emerge, though everything has a tint of grey, like looking through the shaded glasses. I cling to things that mean stability in my life: running and routine. And Larry, gosh, thank goodness, the only person I feel safe crying in front of, sharing my deepest insecurities, and sorrows. There are moments when the breath catches, the eyes well up, and I want to curl in a ball and not wake up. Yet, the Earth rotates, everyone else has moved on, and it feels like I'm expected to, as well. I'm touched by the words of love and support from my family and friends, close and afar. These are hard times. I'm managing my emotions as they are, in the very moment. Walking in one's shoes is a task that is often too difficult to comprehend, and I wish nobody ever has to. I just ask for no judgement on how I walk in mine. 

Escaping deep and high into the mountains, alone, feels as the only thing that speaks to me, because my soul is empty.