Thursday, February 7, 2008
Lisa and I have been hiking together for about three years and in that time we have really gotten to know volumes about each other. We have covered almost every subject that could be covered by two people talking between the breaths required to get up a mountain trail like Mount Sentinel (last night I was really sucking wind ~ sorry Lisa!).
In these three years we have seen each other through some really happy times and some very sad times filled with loss. Last night, we talked about lots of things including the raw, fresh wound of losing of her Dad (He passed away January 26th - due to complications from hip surgery needed to repair a broken hip from a recent fall.)
Lisa is an especially quiet girl, even more so when in larger groups, so I feel incredibly lucky that I know her on a one-on-one basis. AND I usually get her all to myself for atleast a couple hours a week...on some beautiful trail in Missoula.
We have a lot in common, and it's not reading (I met her in a bookclub we belong to...she always reads the book... I am usually the slacker who doesn't get through the whole thing), it's not adventure racing (she may think I'm nuts), and it's not the social aspect of our lives (she's quiet...I'm a talker...she tends to keep to small groups...and I'm a social butterfly). But of the many things that we have in common and chat about - dogs, relationships, marriage, families, friends, etc....one of the ones that I'm most appreciative of is our love of the outdoors...
Here is an email that she wrote to some of her friends yesterday:
"Some of you have not heard the news yet, my Father died on January 26th due to complications from hip surgery. He was 80 years and 6 months.
My Father was a quiet man (yes, I am my Father’s daughter), who could speak much with his eyes and smile; they told you that he loved you. My best memories of my childhood are the times I spent with my Dad doing farm chores. Fall evenings in particular were special for me. They were crisp evenings with golden light as I would sit by my Dad on the tractor; we were heading out to the pasture to feed the cows. Even these past ten years since my Mom died, I was most content sitting by my Dad outside in his backyard just the two of us. He was a special man; as Erik put it “your Father had a big heart”. I miss him very much.
Here is Dad’s Obituary. It includes a very nice video tribute."
(I wish I could have known this man, but I know his daughter and that is something I treasure.)