Why I walk
Walking provides me with a way to stay connected with Sam. He loved to hike and we loved to hit the trail together. When I made visits to see him in Colorado, he would always remind me to bring my boots. Jet lag and altitude adjustment be damned, he had me marching up a mountain on my first morning out there. Despite my exhaustion, those were treasured moments.
When Sam died, one of the first things that John, Henry and I did was take a hike. We flew to Colorado, hiked up a mountain and buried his ashes next to a beautiful lake.
Every year, on the anniversary of his death, the three of us take a hike and encourage his friends to do the same in his memory. Being outside together, talking about Sam and retelling stories of his favorite things, gives us peace. Every year on those trips, we see something that lets us know that Sam is, indeed, with us. Last October, a black bear peered over the wall as we were pulling out of our parking space. As we left, he stood in the middle of the road, saying goodbye. We knew it was Sam.