Recent events in my life have left little time, energy, or interest for hiking or writing this blog. In early October, my husband of nearly 30 years was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. Nick’s health continued to worsen during the next two months, and on Dec. 15, 2010, he died. The weeks since have been filled with an unbelievable surge of raw emotions. I have yet to truly grasp what has transpired, much less find a way forward.
Tuckaleechee View, Rich Mountain, Indian Grave Gap
Friends are supportive. Those who know me best are encouraging walks in the woods. The peace and solace of nature are excellent therapy. But for the lousy weather and other impediments, I’d be actively pursuing that therapy now and certainly plan to incorporate it. A friend said, “ The Smoky Mountains have been frozen and snow covered for the past several months. I think it will melt soon and as the Gaia in
earth thaws, she might enjoy having your feet massage her trails.”
Just when I will get back to hiking is still uncertain, but I am looking at late May for a week of backpacking on some new trails. Unfortunately, my conditioning has taken quite a hit, and it will take some time to regain lost strength and stamina. At this time, I also plan to participate in the Spring Wildflower Pilgrimage in late April. Perhaps a blog post or two could arise from that.
Uvularia puberula, Porters Creek Trail
It was the support and freedom Nick provided that allowed me the time and space to head to the mountains when the mood struck and stay numerous days, while he took care of the house, stayed in touch with our children, Kate and Sam, and loved our two cats, Pickles and Tucker. Without Nick, my responsibilities are greater and my schedule less flexible. Worst of all, when my hikes are finished, I can never return “home” again. In Nick’s absence, our home is just a house, even with two sweet kitties to welcome me back.
This blog and my journey along the park’s trails are still very important to me, and I will gratefully embrace both soon. In the meantime, I beg your patience and understanding. I have a feeling that once I get back in the Smokies, it will be as though I never left. This sense of belonging should revive my spirit and hopefully help heal my heart.
Margie,
Your heartfelt message finds me struggling for the right words. You are a dear friend and I hurt because you hurt. You wil know the right time to make your way back to the Smoky Mountains. The plants and your many friends wait patiently for your return.
Paul
Thank you, Paul. I value your friendship very much and deeply appreciate your support and caring. M
Margie – I can’t even begin to think of words to say… Surround yourself with people you love and who love you. Take time to do the things that you enjoy. Come to the mountains when you can. I am so sad for you.
Hi Margie,
I was casting about looking for something about plants and happened upon your site, starting not at the most recent posting but back in the late spring … and what a thing I found at the end!
I know that your husband was special, and I am sure that he is with you now, and will be alongside you also when you resume your hikes in the valleys and summits of the mountains.
Best wishes,
Norm Farrell
Thanks, Randy and Norm for your kind comments. I really appreciate your support.
Margie
Margie, I am so sorry for your loss. It is a shame we have to say goodbye, but it seems a part of living. A friend of mine, Marion Young Starnes experienced the same thing, and wrote a book, “Letters from Summerland”. http://www.paperbackswap.com/Letters-Summerland-Bridge-Marian-Young-Starnes/book/0965476006/
The Smokies can help to heal this great wound, though it will never completely close up (you would not want it to). I hope to see you there.
Alex
blueridgediscovery.blogspot.com