Good Mornings...

I woke early this morning, which is nothing new. But today I decided not to languish in bed drinking coffee, writing and meditating. I decided I needed to see the sunrise over the Grand Canyon.  So off I went.  It was still dark as I meandered my way towards the rim.  The sun was waking with me.

I walked along the edge, completely aware of everything before me, although most of it was still enshrouded by the darkness.  I found a small outcropping, an overhang, and made this my spot.  I sat there for well over an hour.  Meditating, crying, just being.  It was a time that I will not soon forget.  A time where I, as I am, was present and able to take in all the majesty that lie before me.

I thought about my dad.  How much he loved this place.  How much my love of the Grand Canyon is like som sort of torch he passed to me.  The land here speaks to me.  It beckons me. It has changed my life more than once.

We had a nice day celebrating him yesterday.  We listened to his playlist.  We sang along, songs from my childhood and his life.  We scattered his ashes at Navajo Point.  The exact location shall only be held my my mom and I.  But a lovely final resting place for a man that loved this land. And a place I can return any time I like.  We got him cheesecake for his birthday dessert (German chocolate cake was not on the menu, cheesecake being a close second) and we sang him happy birthday.  It was a beautiful tribute day to a man that altered my life forever and made me who I am today, for good and ill.

It was a good day.  It was a solemn day.  My mom and I sitting for long stretches in the car, not talking, both consumed by our thoughts and grief.

This morning I sat alone with my grief at the canyon’s edge.  Close enough to take my breath away and make my hands sweat, but not so close that I was really in any danger.  And I watched the world wake up, the sun hitting parts of the canyon first, lighting it up with a deep red glow.  Then slowly spreading its warmth across the canyon walls.

A crow happened by, sat briefly in a tree below me.

A tiny chipmunk ran by on its way to I don’t know where.

A blue bird came by to welcome me to this new day.

I realized today that this day, this March 21st shall always be an intermediary between my dad and I.  He being born on the 20th and me claiming my seat in recovery on the 22nd.  This 21st sits between us in poignant reminder of our addictions and our recoveries.  I went to my first meeting on the 21st but I was likely still drunk from the night before, and for sure hung over.  So this 21st day sits with some auspiciousness.  A pause between two births.

As I sat this morning in quiet contemplation, I found a depth of gratitude for all that has transpired.  For all that has come to pass.  His passing, my evolution, the shared journeys of recovery.  This time with my mom.  Our shared recoveries.  And life claimed another facet.  I can’t quite explain it yet. I can only tell you that it was a very good morning.  One that shall live on in my memory forever.  If I close my eyes, I can drift back to this morning any time I choose.  I can be reminded at how vast life is, how it stretches out in all directions like the canyon, it holds depth and gravitas.  It shows only a tiny of portion of itself and holds back places that the light cannot reach.  Me too, I think.  Me too.

I am grateful for being present.  I am happy to be here.  I am very happy that I had as much time with my dad as I did.  And I am supremely grateful my mom and I could travel here to this magical place.  I am most grateful that no matter where I go in this life, I keep returning here, to this canyon.  It is my becoming each and every time.  A hallowed ground upon which to walk.  A beacon for the vastness of life and living while also being quite coy about revealing too much.

I sat this morning on the edge of the Grand Canyon. My dad was there.  I could feel it. I hope he could feel me too.