Waldo’s happy to be back out on the trail!
It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.
-Marcus Aurelius
For the past three days, temps have been in the 80s to low 90s. Today, finally, things have cooled off to the high 60s. Waldo and I are still walking in the morning, but not to avoid the heat. I like to get the “doggy-duty” out of the way and then have the rest of the day free. Waldo, he’ll go for a walk at almost any time, as long as it’s not too hot. We get to the trail around 9 and strike out on our route. The sky is overcast and there is only a slight breeze, making the day even more pleasant.
As we walk along, I notice that the plants along our way have really enjoyed all the rain we’ve been getting. With the heat came high humidity and when the colder air came along, the water the air held came out as rain. There have been a few thunder-bumpers, but mostly, it was intermittent light showers. Just the kind of watering that plants love. The Japanese knotweed is a good ten feet tall, or more, the bitter dock is prolific with huge leaves and orange jewelweed is everywhere. Even the poison ivy is thriving (I’m fortunate enough not to be bothered by the stuff, which is a good thing as Waldo likes to walk through it).
Waldo, although glancing behind us every so often, looking for a nasty bicycle threatening us from the rear, is happy enough, being out here in the cooler temperatures. He’s nose-exploring the sides of the trail and occasionally repositioning a stick that has somehow gone astray. There are a few bicycles that we pass, as well as joggers and a half dozen or more dogs. We pay our due diligence to those we meet, without entering into any prolonged interaction, and continue on our way. Except for those brief interludes, I’m left to my own devices, mostly thinking about this or that.
I don’t think it’s possible to get as old(ish) as I am without, at least occasionally, thinking about the inexorable end all of us must come to. This is particularly poignant for me right now because my younger brother just died. He had been living alone and was found dead in his bed, where he had likely been for a few days. It is thought that he died of a stroke as he survived a pretty serious one 16 years ago. There were four of us in our family: my older brother, by three years, myself, my sister, who is one year younger than I, and my younger brother, by five years.
Our family was close, but distant at the same time. Years would go by without us seeing, or even talking to, each other, but only because we are a very independent lot and all of us were separately building our own lives in very different parts of the country (and, sometimes, out of the country). When we get together, we always get along very well. As we got older, we made a point of seeing each other more frequently, no more than every two years or so. Just a month and a half before my brother’s death, the four of us got together at his house in Montana. It was the first time we had all been together without husbands, wives, children or grandchildren since we were kids. It was just the four of us.
Of course, we did a lot of reminiscing about days long gone. We talked about our parents and rehashed what it was like for each of us growing up. Our early experiences shaped us each in different ways and we traced how they led us to make the life choices we did. Having a medical background, I was interested in knowing the health problems of my siblings. My younger brother wasn’t bothered by anything other than his history of stroke and high cholesterol. My sister recently had a bilateral mastectomy for breast cancer, but it wasn’t an aggressive type and they think they got it all. I have a history of skin cancer, including melanoma, but, again, they think they got it all. Of the four of us, my older brother seems to be the healthiest. We pondered who would be the first to go and my younger brother thought it would be him, because of his proclivity for stroke. How prescient.
It is very sad to lose a sibling, but it happened so far away that it seems more like a story that I heard about, than something real and in my face. It is unlikely that one can get as old as my siblings and I are without having at least a nodding acquaintance with death. I, as a retired ER doc, have probably confronted the Grim Reaper more than most. You learn to accept death as a part of life. I suppose the fact hasn’t really had enough time to fully penetrate my awareness, but there is a hole my brother left behind. One that can never be filled. I am eternally grateful that the four of us had that last opportunity to regroup and reach for closure on so many things in our distant past.
Right now, though, I am surrounded by an abundance of life, out here in the forest, and that is a very nice place to be when thinking of death. My time, and Waldo’s, will come, but we’re both pretty healthy and it doesn’t feel imminent.
In the meantime, we have many more miles to walk.
“Come on, you old fart. Pick up the pace, will ya?”