I just read an article posted in this month's Outside magazine discussing some free solo antics of two famous and notorious climbers. There's talk that one of these two guys are going to attempt a free solo ascent of El Cap in Yosemite Valley. 1,600 feet plus of no ropes, gear or protection.

I can't help but think about the effect this might have on the community. It will ripple down the ranks of climbers - possibly giving someone who was teetering on the fence of whether or not to take such risk to take one. Once attempted and completed - will it sway other climbers to take the same potentially tragic risks? Will it be deemed as insane or suicidal?

Is there any way to create more awareness of the possible consequences such actions could have on others? Is it a wasted breath?

Even if your shoes weren't cluttering the basement. Even if your climbing articles weren't scattered throughout the house. Even if I looked in every nook and cranny and was thrown into the vortex of memories they created, I'd still be missing you.

Grief. It puts me on lock down at times. It makes me fritter hours away thinking about memories, sensations, good times and bad. At times it seems I can only think about your absence. It paralyzes me in ways I can't communicate to my friends or those dear to me. And I know it's something I have to deal with on my own. It's something I have to come to terms with and endure. And I'm trying the best way I can.

I woke suddenly this morning thinking about your last moments alive, plunging to the Valley floor from Goat Wall. I remember thinking to myself, oh not today. Please let me have just one day where I don't start like this - thinking about mortality and the tragity associated with it.

I wondered what Makiah heard. What reaction she had - if she looked up and saw you coming down near her or not. Much good that does me - but I still can't help but think about it.

I came across a t-shirt today that smelled like you had just taken it off. Funny how in an instant I can be transported into your arms, smelling your neck, feeling your touch...

And for the record -that shirt I'm keeping. Your shoes though - I had to move some of your shoes. And your pack is now in the basement along with your watch with the alarm that was set for 11:30pm that I would hear every night I was up late.

I still have waves of disbelief. They wash over me when I think nearly 8 months has passed. Where does the time go? Are you still watching over me? Can you feel me missing you right now? I miss you so much.

Crying is good. It's physical and soothing...

Just like Joan in the book titled, "The Year of Magical Thinking", I find that I've kept a lot of Ryan's things in hopes that he's coming back. After reading that she did the same actions - couldn't get rid of all of her husbands things - I find myself going through the closet again.

And I hit a ticking time bomb.

In his back pack, were the last things he touched. His socks, turned inside out and placed in his shoes. My Cane Creek socks from last season. His stinky feet smell long gone from then, evoked several tears. A poweraid bottle, partially sipped and collecting mold.

It won't bring him back. Keeping these things won't.

So slowly, ever so slowly, I'm going through them and dealing with their disposal.

The sun came out today. I felt its warmth on my face and felt the spring air on my partially shaven legs. As I ran through the Point Definance park, I was able to put grief out of my mind, completely. 37 straight uninterrupted minutes of quiet mind. Ah refreshing.

Spring Cleaning

I dumped a bunch of shit today. 401 k plan summaries, employee handbooks, employee reviews, etc. Old empty CD cases, shoe boxes. Realistically - what am I supposed to do with them? Hold onto them as constant reminders that you're gone and never coming back?

I even good willed some of your shoes. They were beat up and worn in such fashion that I seriously contemplating holding onto them. But then again, what good would that do me? It's hard going through our things, sorting through the life we built together. Compartmentalizing the memories, the laughter, the good times and bad that we shared.

I'm starting to explore the inevitable change that scared the crap out of me before. Starting to move things in the house out of their nooks and crannies. I was given this opportunity to create a new me - a new life. And I'm trying different things to make sure I make the most out of it.

I moved the dining room table to one side of the room as a reminder to keep plowing through my things, move them out and make room for a new me. Downsize all of the things I have, all of the reminders. All in hopes that I'll figure out what now makes me happy.

One thing is for sure - all of the material items I possess sure feel an awful lot like baggage. Even my office desk is getting a make over.

Intro...

I figured I would create a separate blog, that hopefully not that many people will follow - so I can express my true feelings of going through grief. It's a sad, hard process but also rewarding and mystifying. There are days I struggle, and days that I'm happy. The ups and downs just go with the territory. I'm happy to share my journey -but realize this is my journey.