Scaling Mountains

Last week Sarah became an official 46’er. That means she has hiked up all 46 high peaks (4,000+ feet) in New York’s Adirondack Park. It’s a big accomplishment for anyone, but I think it’s an especially big accomplishment for Sarah, who has been determined that Emma’s death would not derail her. She had an almost instant resolve about that. It seems like it was less than a week after Emma’s death that Sarah was telling us, “We can’t let this destroy us.”  And, of course, she is right. That wouldn’t be right for us, and it would not be the way to honor Emma’s memory. One thing Peter, Sarah and I have all felt certain of was that Emma did not want to hurt us. The only thing more tragic than losing Emma, would be losing ourselves, too.

But there’s a difference between thinking, even knowing, that something is the right thing to do and doing it.  And that’s why I am particularly proud of what Sarah has accomplished. I’m not sure anyone who hasn’t traveled this trail can completely appreciate the emotional energy it takes to negotiate just an ordinary day after a profound loss. And what’s particularly ironic is that people are most likely not to appreciate how hard you’re working when you are working the absolute hardest. When you’re putting on a brave face, so as not spoil a party; when you’re screwing up all the concentration you can muster so that you honor your responsibilities at work or at school; those are the times when friends and family are most likely to observe, “See, they’re doing better.” But the truth is it’s not a straight path to better. It’s a long, rocky trail with lots of ups and downs and more than its fair share of switchbacks. Looking back at this time many years from now, I suspect Sarah will feel that climbing the grief mountain was more difficult and exhausting than all 46 Adirondack high peaks put together.

And Sarah’s 46’er is a bit of an accomplishment for me, too. Letting Sarah head off to camp last July, just 2 weeks after Emma died, might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, next to speaking at Emma’s memorial service. The five weeks that she was gone last summer were excruciating, but we knew it was where she should be. She climbed 20 mountains last summer – many that were not high peaks, and several repeats, but that summer put her at a total of 37 high peaks – just 9 left to scale this summer. And  when she got home from camp she had traveled over some important healing territory, too – territory she needed to travel on her own. Unfortunately, grief is a solitary journey.  Each person has to find his or her own trail and the ascents and descents are different for every person.

And frankly, letting Sarah go back to camp this year wasn’t easy either – because letting go and trusting that everything will be all right just aren’t in my repertoire anymore. Now, letting go and trusting are acts of will - invisible to the casual observer, I’m sure, but acts of will nonetheless. But that’s what I did. I let go, and I tried really hard to trust.

So Sarah’s 46’er is an acknowledgment that life does go on – not without struggle, not without heartache, but on. And every now and again, we get to look out at a really spectacular view and appreciate the journey.