We took the easier route, knowing it would be smoother & less of a climb. She had quite the jaunt, with her wide hips & short legs. Those hips managed to birth 6 children, one by one in quick succession. I watched her traverse those brilliant red rocks, using a hiking stick & had no idea it would be our last hike, her last hike. She walked roughly, her gate uneven & with each step she sought pleasure but with each movement also came incredible pain. I asked her how cancer hurt. And she explained that it burned, through out her leg as if it was set on fire. I knew even then, as we walked through this magical place that brought her so much joy, that every foot that hit the ground was a reminder of her mortality. Every time I hike or run that portion of the trail I am reminded of that hike. Her last hike. How good she felt in that moment & how much she loved hiking, even through pain that she tried so desperately to manage & hide. I remember the spot where we stopped to look at this particular plant. I remember the climb up where she finally relinquished & said that she had to turn around. I remember the feeling of accomplishment but also immense disappointment. She hadn’t hiked that far in awhile but to be given a small taste of freedom & then to have it taken away so abruptly wasn’t fair. We tried to walk again the next few days but the pain overcame her. She tried to be strong in front of her son but as quickly as he stepped outside the car she exhaled exasperatingly & confessed to me, how badly it hurt. I tried to imagine that burning sensation & even my imagination couldn’t take it. I never thought she was going to die. She’s too strong, too important, too loved. They had already lost their sister, her, her oldest daughter. One family can’t take that much sorrow & pain- can they? I didn’t accept or expect her death until she was no longer speaking or awake, really. A strong, fierce woman, a mother bear, literally brought to her knees or her back to speak plainly. Confined to her bed, she took her last breath & finally, that stinging, burning, relentless pain was gone. She was gone. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. When I think of that burning pain she tried desperately to explain to me I don’t imagine it intertwining & seizing her leg, I picture that incessant & undying pain & torment in her children’s hearts & stomachs. The wrenching & undeniable suffering of losing & missing your mother. I miss her & still cant believe she isn’t in this realm. I will forever remember her strong will, her intensity, her sass & ability to defend the defenseless. I think about everyone she loved & everyone who loved her. I cherish the moments where she was happiest. With her children. With her partner. With nature. Perhaps, in some cosmic way, that wasn’t her last hike. Perhaps, she is with us, imbedded in these red rocks she loved, enveloped in the trees, floating on the clouds & ingrained in our soil. Perhaps her last hike has yet to be done.