Walking With You
Today, I walked with you. You have been gone nearly 6 years but today, walking with the sun shining down on me, I walked with you.
As I walked, I remembered “lions and tigers and bears, oh my!” from when we would walk together in the woods of Maine during my childhood. I remembered telling you about our dog’s day at “Mrs. McGruff’s School for Educated Dogs” as we walked her in our neighborhood.
Seeing into my adolescence, I remembered telling you about what I was reading, what I was writing, and my decision to apply Early Decision to college. On my breaks during college, I remembered telling you about the cultural divide I felt on campus but how much I loved my classes. I remembered telling you I had decided to major in Anthropology as it encompassed my passion for humanity and its variety of identities.
Seeing into my adulthood, I remembered telling you when I realized law was not the path for me and you encouraged me to take my time deciding what path would be. I remembered telling you with such pride about landing my job teaching Spanish. I remembered telling you about a “dude” I had met, who made me laugh and whose kindness reminded me of you. That “dude” became my husband. I remembered walking with you while pregnant and then again with your infant grandson, who inherited your eyes, in his stroller.
Throughout my life, our walks would help me make sense of the world and my place in it. Our walks allowed me to appreciate natural beauty, and both the simplicity and enormity of it. Our walks calmed me, soothed me, made me feel safe and loved.
Today, I walked with you. I heard your wisdom in my ear. I felt your presence in the light breeze and in the sun. I now know we walked together all of those years so that I would always be able to find you.
Today, Daddy, I walked with you.