Back on the Mountain

It's here and I'm here, on the Mountain.  

Bonnaroo 2019 and a weekend I've pointed toward, mentally and especially emotionally, for almost six months.  I've needed this weekend like I never have before.  A chance to get away, to reflect about what has been lost and how my life has since I was here last year.

The Mountain - and include within it Sewanee - is a magical place for me.  I love it here.  There's something about it that relaxes my soul.  It centers me and it recharges my batteries.  And, most importantly, something about being here heals me and that's something I need after my mother's death.

It's still strange, somehow, to type those words.  I vividly remember how much grief she gave me the first time I came to Bonnaroo for the weekend, seven or eight years ago.  She worried about me, as she always did.  She didn't understand Bonnaroo or why I wanted to be here, to stay in Paul's cabin, alone for the first couple of days, then with my friends.  She didn't understand why I wanted - no, needed - to spend three or four leisure days listening to music at the Farm with thousands and thousands of people.  

Over time, I think, she came to understand that in the middle of my busy family life and a sometimes stressful professional life, I need a long weekend away to find myself again.  I needed time and a place to reset my compass and to find peace and quietude.  She still laughed about it and told me I was crazy to go to Bonnaroo, but she grew to understand how important it was for me to be here.

I miss my mom something fierce.  Still.  I don't talk about it as much, as I don't want to burden my family and friends with my grief.  She was my North Star.  I think about her every day, or almost every day.  I'm not sure that will ever end.  I'm not sure I want it to end.

It's manageable grief, for me, or at least that's what I tell myself.  She taught me to be strong, always.  Without question, the example she set for me - every day - of getting up, putting one foot on the floor followed by the other and taking care of business - is something I have relied on and continue to rely on as I find my way and learn to live, and to thrive, in a new and different world.  She faced so much adversity in her adult life, always with a smile on her face and an unshakeable sense of resolve.

My mom loved life and refused to dwell on the adversity she experienced.  She never complained, at least not to me.  She smiled, laughed and loved her family and her friends.  That's the lesson I try to learn, for sure, especially during difficult or stressful times.  It's what she would want me to do.

There will be moments while I'm here - like yesterday evening during a 4-mile run on the Mountain Goat trail as dusk fell or this morning, sitting on the front porch at Stirling's Coffee House on campus, sipping a cup of coffee in 63 degree weather - when my thoughts and memories of my mom almost overwhelm me.  But, then, I'll take a deep breath, look around and see - really see - the beauty all around me.  The train I'm running, the music I'm listening to and the laughter I'm sharing with my friends.

And I will be glad to be alive.