Healing Through Hiking

How an expected loss led to an unexpected passion for hiking.

My mom loved the outdoors. As a kid growing up in the mountainous valleys of Northern California, there were not many days spent indoors. Exploring the trails behind our local parks together always felt like this special secret thing we shared just between us. As the youngest of four and separated from my siblings by a large age gap, I never felt like I had to fight for attention but, those warm days spent hiking, with our shared appreciation of not polluting the air with our voices but indulging our ears with natures exquisite sounds, remains one of my most treasured memories.

My mom lost a long and hard-fought battle to dementia on May 6, 2021. It was a torturous journey that spanned years and required constant care from her children. A terminal illness with no designated expiration date, we all struggled with finding the precarious balance between living our lives and tending to her needs. In her final stages, I was blessed enough to have her close by in her last weeks of life. No one could have anticipated the day she passed - three days before Mother’s Day and less than 2.5 weeks from my birthday.

I had been carefully planning not only my first solo trip but my first hiking adventure for about a year before she took her last breath. My immediate thought, as it related to my upcoming trip, was to cancel. In that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. Because who would not put a stop to anything remotely enjoyable for grief? What person would continue to move forward with plans and activities as if she did not just lose the one person that had made her feel anchored in this life?

Except I did not cancel the trip.

I never knew how I would experience the grief process. I had never lost someone as a part of me as my mom was. It was interesting to observe how each of us (kids) managed the wave of emotions that hit us once she was gone. For me, I felt an intense inclination to live… like really live.

My mom was severely robbed of her time; having developed early-onset dementia in her early 50’s; just as she was about to embark on the next chapter of her life that did not include having to cater to any children or work clients. It was supposed to be HER time. But instead, she became forgetful, then careless, then incoherent, and, finally, immobile.

I never asked anyone close to me how they felt about my moving forward with my Colorado trip. I moved silently but with purpose that first week; trying to prioritize both my mental state and the decisions that must often be made after death. As I preoccupied myself into a state of emotional avoidance, the trip became significantly more critical. I knew myself enough to recognize that I needed a space of solace, and solitude, to mourn in a way that was comfortable for me. So, on May 20, 2021, less than 15 days after losing mom, I embarked on my first solo hiking trip.

It feels so cliché to type that the experience was life changing. Yet, that is the only suitable way to phrase it. Trekking through unknown terrain by myself, someone with zero knowledge of altitude, wildlife, or basic direction, I discovered this magical way of connecting with my mom and healing from her loss. I was never terrified because I felt her with me. I talked aloud to her at times when the world around me was too still. I let tears fall on jagged rocks and in rushing waters when the absence of her was just too overwhelming. I even took to capturing a pose in places on trails that I absolutely knew she would have loved. I laughed and I wept… and I let go… with every heavy-footed step of my boot throughout Colorado’s majestic landscape.

Since that first trip, I have explored the brilliant red peaks of Utah and mystical lush forests of Oregon. And I have committed to taking at least two solo hiking trips each year. For myself and for my mom.