Right Here Right Now

Back in those happier days before the Bunny's accident, he jokingly made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I was to cremate him and take his ashes to the top of Half Dome - an insanely huge mountain in Yosemite - to scatter. Back in 2003, we were married in the meadow directly in front of this mountain, near Stoneman Bridge. That particular day in May of that particular year, all of the meadows in the valley were flooded with water - all except "ours." So it was meant to be - and endorsed by the Universe that we got to follow through on our plans.

I have often wondered what the Bunny could possibly have been thinking when he gave me that mission: was he serious? Was he joking? I am not a hiker - he himself had hiked up Half Dome at least twice that I knew of, but I was always the one to sleep in the tent, to cook the food when he and his friends would go do something physically exerting - bicycling, hiking, whatever - and then make it back home, hungry and ready to eat whatever I had prepared. That was what I was good at. I don't even like walking uphill in a parking lot.

So it was kind of ironic that in the last eighteen months since the Bunny died, I was now faced with this near impossible task - questioning his motivations, questioning his sanity - hiking was not my thing! Definately not my idea of fun. What was I supposed to get out of it? He never would have given me a task just for his benefit - that was not the kind of person he was. I know that in some internal place, if he truly meant for me to do this task, he had reasons for it that had nothing to do with him. It was something for me. I just could not figure out what it was.

I was talking to the Bunny's neice Jessica recently, about my frame of mind lately, now being here on my own. I've felt so... I don't know - not necessarily "unhappy" - but I just feel so tired of life. As if to say I would not be at all upset if a truck ran me down in the street and I died. Living takes so much... energy. Wanting to keep living takes a lot of energy, energy I just don't feel like I have. Jessica says I am depressed, and that's probably a safe bet. I want a reason to keep living. I need a reason to keep being happy.

I've been training for this hike for at least the past six months, maybe more like ten months. Working out with the trainer, joining my weekly hiking group... thinking about the Half Dome hike. I didn't share this with most people, even those close to me, but I would often fantasize about getting to the top of that mountain and just flinging myself out into space. It would be so easy - "Girl Dies In Freak Hiking Accident" - sounds perfectly plausible to me. But maybe I would do something like that, and I would get to whereever the Bunny was, and he would be SO disappointed in me! Like I had a chance to make something meaningful out of my life, and I wasted it. But feeling sorry for yourself is a hard thing to get beyond. So I continued to think about it, all the while I am training, cursing the Bunny for making me do this.

So the week finally arrives - I will do my hike on Wednesday, June 30, 2010. Jessica came, and my very best friend Liz. We took turns driving up to Yosemite (approximately six hours from where we live), got settled into Curry Village, which conveniently was right up the road from Stoneman Bridge - I never realized that before. So the next day we went to scope out the trailhead, and visited the meadow where the Bunny and I were married. I looked up at Half Dome, and tried to imagine the hike. I couldn't. But damn, did that mountain look huge!

Jessica and Liz made sure I got up on time the day of the hike - 4AM - and we headed for the trailhead at 5AM, the recommended start time to make it to the top and back before sundown. Liz ended up slipping on some uneven ground, and I didn't find out till later but she messed up her knee, which put her in a brace and on crutches. Fortunately Jessica was there to guilt her into going to the First Aid office and getting some x-rays... I was grateful that Jessica was there to help take care of her. So I set out on my own, and it wasn't long before I joined up with these four Hispanic guys - a 52-year old guy named Jose, his 26-year old son Jesus, his brother-in-law Mike, his nephew Alberto, and Alberto's friend Brian. Both Alberto and Brian were 22; I spent most of my time chatting with Mike, who was 39 like me, and had done this hike three times before. Being able to talk to people while hiking makes all the difference for me because it distracts me from the physical part. Back home in my hiking group, the first day I joined I hooked up with my friend Bren who let me talk her ear off the whole way - and pretty much every week after that - which is one of the reasons I was consistent with it. Because just hiking around is NOT my idea of fun. Hell no! But communicating with people - now that's something I know I do well, and I enjoy it... to the point that I can suffer through the physical stuff.

I got to see some amazing things on the hike, I took some cool pictures - and there were many, many opportunities where it would just be so easy to slip on some loose gravel and tumble down that mountain. So easy. But I tried to be careful. I had to get to the top. It was what the Bunny asked for, and dammit, I was going to do it. Once I got there, all bets were off, of course. But I had a mission I needed to complete.

There were times during the hike that I felt I just couldn't go on. I was tired. I just couldn't lift my leg up on one more rock. I couldn't keep hiking up these steep inclines. But my compadres were there to encourage me, telling me to rest, take it easy... and so I rested, and I took it easy, and I kept going. I thought of all the other things I would rather be doing (sleeping being the foremost in my mind) - once again cursing the Bunny for making me do this. Bastard! If he wasn't dead I would SO kick his ass! F-er!

Finally, we were getting close to the top, and I had to climb up a bunch of stone steps before getting to the cables. To get to the very top of Half Dome you have to climb up these cables. It's fairly intimidating. In fact, the previous three times Mike was saying that he would always get scared when he got to the cables, but he trusted in his physical ability to climb them, and so each time he would make it to the top despite his fear. The steps were frightening enough, but the cables - I can't even describe what it looks like. The people on the cables look like little ants, climbing up the side of the mountain at a good forty-five degree angle. Every ten feet or so there is a wood two-by-four so you have something to step on as you climb sheer rock. Every few minutes I would pull my camera out of my hiking pants pocket (hiking pants have lots of pockets) and snap a picture. So I am going up the cables, and I get to about 20 feet from the top. And I stop.







The distance from the bottom of the sub-Dome to the top is approximately 400 feet. You basically need a lot of upper body strength to pull yourself up - with the help of the cables and the two-by-fours - after hiking six miles up the mountain. So needless to say, I am completely wiped out. I look up - I can see the edge at the top, beyond that, blue sky - and I think: I can't do this. I just can't do this. I'm so tired! Why do I have to do this? I don't want to do this.

And then I remember. Shirley, you are doing this because the Bunny asked you to. And it's the last thing he's ever going to ask you. You have to do this. I know you don't think you can, but you have to. Because the Bunny asked you. And you love him.

Dragging my body up that last 20 feet was probably the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. I was convinced, in my head, I just couldn't do it. I was ready to turn around. But I couldn't have lived with that. So I did it. I don't know how I did it, but I did it. And finally, I was on the very top of Half Dome, looking out over the valley. I did the impossible! But you know what, I didn't feel like I accomplished anything great. But I did notice that I did accomplish it, when I was absolutely convinced that I just couldn't. And maybe that's what the Bunny wanted me to know. That even though I sit here now, and I don't think I will ever have another reason to be as happy as I was when I was married to him, that it IS possible - it just might happen. And figuring that out didn't necessarily make me happy, but it did make me less sad. I guess I am kind of at neutral. Neutral is an okay place to be for now.

I said my final goodbye to my husband, on the top of Half Dome, in one of his most favorite places in the world. Many miles away, part of his ashes were being buried in the ground, where I can go and connect with him as the desire strikes me - or anyone else can go, for that matter. One of his relatives recently told me that "it wasn't about us" meaning, those of us left behind. But to say that was to miss the whole point altogether. It's ALL about those of us left behind. We are the ones who guard the memories. As now I guard the memory that I did something for the Bunny that I never imagined I could do. Something he clearly believed I COULD do, with the proper motivation. And he was right. And because he was right, I learned something about myself, and about the people in my life that love me, support me, care about me.

My best friend probably would have loved to take off for home after she got hurt... but she stayed with me. Bren kept me hiking every week, training for this hike. Mike and Jose and the boys kept me company all the way up the mountain, and all the way back to the valley. Even dragging myself up those cables - strangers who were on their way down gave me encouraging words "just a little more" and "you are almost there." And that's the other thing I think the Bunny wanted me to know: that even though he couldn't stay with me, he knew I would be okay in the capable hands of those people I care about and who care about me.

I have to trust that everything's going to be okay. I may not believe it, I may not have any hard evidence that it will, but I have to have faith. With faith, I have hope. With hope, I have a reason to keep living. I have a reason to be happy. I am alive, and I get to do what makes me happy, and more to the point I know what happiness feels like. I remember it. So I will recognize it when I see it again.

Do I think I will ever attempt hiking Half Dome again? Um, probably not. Once was enough in this lifetime. For some things, once is enough. For everything else, I guess I will just have to wait and see.

Peace.