I did something today that I almost never let myself do.
I pretended.
I intended to hike for Reed today, and settled on Dinosaur Ridge. It is close to home, and I had gone there earlier in the week with his younger brother. It felt right to go back again today, with him this time. When I got there and started walking, I remembered that it is absolutely not a “hike.” It is a short distance up a paved road, adjacent to the loud highway. This is drastically different from what I am normally seeking with this time - surrounding myself in beautiful nature, escaping society for a brief moment. As I walked, I began to imagine what it would be like to be there with my almost 4 year old. I smiled…and then I leaned into that.
Outwardly, I was just walking along the street, stopping occasionally to admire these incredible geological findings. But in my head, I was a mom, enjoying a day out with her little boy. I pictured him stomping his feet on the piles of shale, listening to the clatter. I wondered if he would hold my hand while we walked or run ahead, eager to see the next thing. I decided that I would have laughed, rather than yelled, as I reminded him, again and again, that he was not allowed to climb the hillside. I imagined the questions he might ask and the way I would help him find the tracks on his own, and then I imagined his squeal of delight when he finally spotted them.
I normally don’t let myself imagine these things. It feels too much like pretending, which is something I abhor. There is too much pretending in our world. We are expected to pretend to be okay when actually we are in pain. We pretend not to be hurt by someone’s words, and then let small rifts turn into enormous fractures in relationships, because it is “easier” than confronting reality. I am overly sensitive to pretending, and refuse to engage in any sort of pretend besides my younger son’s play.
But lately, I have been slowly admitting to myself that it might be time for a change in the way I honor Reed. I’ve found myself avoiding things that used to make me feel closer to him - I don’t write as much, and even our monthly hike has begun to feel like something I do because I don’t want to let him down, rather than because I genuinely look forward to it. Change, especially as it relates to Reed, terrifies me. Change feels too much like leaving him behind sometimes, which I have absolutely no interest in ever doing.
Some of the best advice we received in the first year after Reed died was to just let each day be what it was. If we woke up in the morning and wanted to do something, we should. And if we didn’t…then we didn’t need to press it. It didn’t mean we loved him any less. That has been incredibly helpful on big days like holidays and anniversaries, but over the years I think I have forgotten that sentiment.
Today, I tried to live in that space again. I let myself do what felt right in the moment, instead of what I felt I was supposed to do. I wasn’t ready to not hike, but I let go of some of the pressure I often feel to choose the right hike. And when I felt myself beginning to pretend…I let myself go there. It felt good. I smiled. I felt some of the heaviness lift. And even though it wasn’t real in this universe, maybe there is some alternate reality out there where another version of me walked behind a joyous, skipping, almost-4-year old boy with dark hair, looking at dinosaur tracks and laughing. I think I’m okay with pretending that is possible.