For the Love of Johanna
The other day I went on a hike. It wasn’t a big deal per se, I hike often. Hiking keeps me grounded and connected to the world around me. I didn’t always hike. When I was a child I abhorred physical activity. I think part of it was because when I was very young (under 5) I couldn’t see very well. I didn’t know this fact; to me what I could see was just what seeing was. But when I was 5 I had eye surgery and starting wearing glasses. By then I think the hand eye coordination of hitting a ball or catching one was already established and I was not very good at these tasks. I was often picked last in team sports and I found moving my body to be a chore.
But enough about that. Now I love to move my body, especially hiking. When I moved to Utah 15 years ago I had already started to enjoy moving my body but I hadn’t really discovered hiking yet. That is where Johanna came in. Johanna was a friend I made shortly after arriving in Utah. She too was fairly new to Utah. She lived in my neighborhood and she invited me to hike with her above our neighborhood one day. We were quite fortunate- there were a number of hiking trails up the foothills of the mountain we were living on and she and her border collie Katie knew the way up many of them. Together they provided me with the opportunity to connect to the earth and to myself through hiking. When we first started to hike I would only go occasionally. It wasn’t because I didn’t like hiking but because I only had time on weekends. With a full time job, 3 kids, and a husband, I didn’t seem to have a lot of free time. My husband wasn’t keen for me leaving during the weekend because he often had plans for us to do errands, chores, or family activities and my going off and hiking on my own didn’t fit into that schedule. Once we separated in 2011 I was suddenly available to do all the hiking I wanted with Johanna and off we went. More than often we were on those trails up above our neighborhood.
We would hike on beautiful mornings when the dry air hadn’t gotten too hot yet. We would hike in the fall when the leaves were changing into their pretty dresses and we could see the beautiful foliage. We would hike in the winter when the water in my water bottle turned to ice. We once hiked in a rainstorm. Johanna said, “don’t worry it will pass!”, as my jeans stuck to my skin like temporary tattoos. I wouldn’t trade that day for a hot chocolate and a warm fire. It’s a great memory.
While we were on the trail, Johanna and I would bare our souls to each other. We would talk about our jobs, our marriages, the end of our marriages, our forays into dating, our new partners, our dreams for the future. I would share the challenges with being a mom. Katie would run between us, corralling us together like a border collie does with sheep.
Sadly, Katie passed away one day. Soon after Johanna and her partner got a new border collie, Bella. Bella hiked with us as well and was much more rambunctious than Katie. She kept us on our toes.
In 2015 I left North Ogden, the town where Johanna and I lived and moved to Salt Lake City. In Salt Lake CIty there were new hiking trails and new hiking friends to connect with. I still visited Johanna in North Ogden and we still hiked the trails above our old homes- she had moved further down the mountain.
In the winter of 2016 Johanna was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. I was devastated. 7 years earlier my dad had passed away of the same diagnosis, living only 3 weeks past his diagnosis date. Would this happen to my dear friend?
Johanna was always resilient and carried positive energy. This diagnosis didn’t change her composition. For 3 years she fought this disease. During that time we even got to hike. The hikes got shorter and the terrain got flatter but we still were able to connect as our feet planted on the ground. In July of 2018 we had our last hike together. Sorrowfully, in December of 2019 Johanna passed away at the young age of 65. I am grateful I got to visit with her just hours before she died and while she wasn’t conscious I know in my heart she heard me speak of the gratitude I had for our hikes together and the special times with her on the trail that I treasure in my heart.
When Johanna died I made the commitment to hike 65 unique hikes this year. I decided I would take Johanna with me in my heart to see 65 spaces around the world. When COVID hit in March I realized that these hikes wouldn’t be around the world but they could still be around the areas that I will get to visit. So a few days ago, for hike #44 I decided to visit North Ogden and hike along the paths that we visited above our homes.
Earlier in the day on the morning of my hike I attended online group meditation with my Buddhist Sangha. I came with my Mala beads and my mantra. As I fingered through the beads and repeated my mantra in my head I noticed thoughts of my time with Johanna leaked through. Tears formed in my eyes. “Why am I still so sad? She’s been gone almost 9 months” I thought. As hard as I tried I couldn’t stop the thoughts from leaking into what was supposed to be a deep concentration. Soon after I headed up to North Ogden to start my hike.
As I drove to the end of the road that we used to hike from I was worried that there would be houses built up and the trail would be gone. There was a lot of construction in the area and many houses were being built. When I arrived I was pleased to see that the trail remained. I took a deep breath and got out of my car. As I approached the trailhead memories flooded back to me. I thought of the time we heard gunshots on the trail (people were hunting or participating in target practice) and Johanna had me call 911 to make sure the police were aware. As I hiked up the trail I imagined Katie and Johanna up ahead; I heard Johanna’s laugh and I saw Katie racing back and forth between us. The trail was not a particularly beautiful one; I’ve been on so many breathtaking trails along the Wasatch. But this trail was our trail and that’s what mattered to me in the moment. It was quiet and I was the only one on the trail. In that moment it felt sacred, as if no one had ventured out on the trail since we had left.
As I passed what were once familiar landmarks, trees and large rocks, I was reminded to keep moving ahead as we always did. I had forgotten how steep the trail was. At one point I whispered, “Jo, we were pretty tough back then!” When I crested at the top of the trail I turned around and took a deep breath”. I said to the air, “I’m sorry I waited so long Johanna. It’s good to be back here with you”.
Coming down the trail I realized what the true source of my sadness was. I was afraid. Afraid that one day I would forget my dear friend or that her name wouldn’t touch on my heartstrings as much as it does now. And the reality is that maybe it won’t. I can only recognize what I feel today and really feel it- not sweep it away or focus on a distraction. I am choosing to be authentic with myself and having the full experience. It’s hard and it’s okay.