Recently the kids asked if we could take a hike at a place we have gone as a family of four a few times, Mt. Wachusett. We looked at the weekend forecast and saw a perfect day on tap that coincided with an unscheduled Saturday. We woke up and were rewarded with reality fitting the forecast, so we eagerly packed water, snacks, lunch, dog supplies and then set off. The drive was enjoyable - the sky was a perfect October blue and the leaves were blazing orange and yellow against it, the reds of peak foliage were mostly gone but brown had not yet taken over. Once we arrived at the reservation, the various parking lots were jammed with cars full of people with the same idea to soak up a nice Saturday before a blustery Nor'easter rolled in on Sunday. We scored a parking spot and Phoenix began pulling us along the path, under the gate, and there we were, in the woods on a glorious fall morning. We admired the lake briefly and then headed up the mountain. The path names were familiar to Nathan and to Julia's delight, we scrambled over rocks and fallen trees. She declared it worth the drive at the steepest part. Well, the ambitious hike and the frosted donut with Halloween sprinkles she got as a bribe for taking the car ride with a good attitude made it worth it...
Thank goodness for Phoenix, the refrain of the last seven months. As is often the case, her funny antics allowed us to focus on her, something we all care about. In turn, that focus enabled us to be easy with one another. Phoenix is getting to be a big dog, probably 55 pounds now, and her strength is considerable; it required me to mostly concentrate on the here and now to avoid a major mishap instead of getting completely lost in memories. Particularly on the way down! The beauty of the day, this wonderful place, and the kids' bubbly excitement made me happy in a way that I don't often feel these days. We talked a lot about Dad and good times with him at the mountain. Those special memories were accessible to me by being back at Wachusett, and while that brought sadness, it wasn't overwhelming.
The summit was crowded with people and dogs, but we took a few minutes to rest and take a selfie at a lookout spot where we had taken a family photo in 2015, our first time hiking Wachusett. That first family exploration of Wachusett was the day after Thanksgiving and unseasonably warm; we had "opted outside" and made it up the mountain together. Chris took several pictures with his camera and jollied certain small hikers out of difficult moods at key times. It had been a really good day. That old family selfie at the summit is one of my favorite pictures, I had it made into a magnet that is on the fridge now and I look at it many times a day.
11/27/2015
On this past weekend's trip to Wachusett, I took a few photos with my phone. That wiggly puppy and those excited kids made for less than stellar pictures due to motion, but I'm really pleased with the shots I captured. It was a truly good day and now I can look back at it. Our selfie at the top was a one-try effort, the kids left my side as soon as I snapped it. When I looked closely at the photo later, I see that it came out better than I could have hoped for. I'm staring at it now and I see us in the sun with genuine smiles, and I see a literal gap where one person is missing. This singular photo sums up what it is like for us now. This is what Chris being gone looks like, this is what gone means. We have to go on without Chris and we are figuring that out. Sometimes we have happiness and enthusiasm, but there is always, always an empty place that cannot be filled. We wish he could be here with us. It would be so much better if he were with us. We miss him and we love him. That will never change...
This is what gone looks like:
10/26/2019
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