Friday Ramble - Now We Are Two

On cool fall mornings, the Clyde river valley in the Lanark highlands is like something out of a dream or a painting. For many years, Irv and I walked these hills with our canine companions, first Cassie, then Spencer, and now Beau. There was always something amazing to see on our treks: fog rolling across the hills and down the valleys, owls peering from shadowed alcoves, deer and wild turkeys at dawn, sandhill cranes dancing in farm fields at sunset. The view across the valley is breathtaking in any season. In autumn, it illustrates the lovely expression "over the hills and far away", better than anything else I can think of.

My beloved passed away a few days ago due to complications from pancreatic cancer, and now we are two. From now on, it is Beau and I who will ramble these hills together, in the flesh anyway. Cassie and Spencer traveled beyond the fields we know some time ago, but they and Irv will be here and walking right along with us. There will be five of us on the snowbound trail this winter, but three of us will not leave paw prints in the white stuff.

Grief and sadness have come to stay, and they are probably here for keeps. I will have to get used to that. For many years I was married to one of the most wonderful men who ever walked this earth, and walk we did, hand in hand and all over the place, packs on our backs and canine companions trotting along by our side. I loved Irv more than life itself, and I always will. I simply cannot imagine life without him, and flourishing without him is not in the cards. Just surviving is going to be very hard work.

I cry and and stare out windows, am restless and can't settle down. I forget things, drop things, lose things. Sleep evades me, and I have no interest in food. I stroke Beau's silky ears and take him for long walks in the woods. I keep putting one foot in front of the other and breathing in and out. I tell myself that Irv is no longer in pain, and that I will learn to live with this broken heart. I try to take comfort in knowing that in some measure, we will walk these hallowed hills together forever, and that our beloved companions will be with us. A fine untrammeled wildness dwells in our blood and bones, all of us.