But my plan had to been to climb it today, then to climb its adjacent peak, Dam Mountain, thereafter.
I was set on it.
Today was the day that I would finally go out and spread Beamer's ashes in one of the places she loved most: nature.
By 2 o'clock, the cloud had decided to stay and, with a huff of disappointment at this less-than-ideal circumstance, I set forth.
With Beams in my backpack (a difficult reality to get my head around still), I trudged up the Grouse Grind, my weekly 2.9km workout up the side of Grouse.
At the top, just as I suspected: the view was a big white abyss. No city. No ocean. No anything below. Just white at every direction.
It was eerie and almost fitting, I think. For what this journey was all about. It was like I was already in heaven.
The trek from the top of Grouse to the top of Dam is maybe another 2 km up up up. The trail is not too steep, it winds nicely to and fro, following a little creek of winter run-off.
This trail, actually, is exactly the kind that Beamer loved: thin and windy, so she could forge ahead and see what was around the bend, then return back to me, wagging her tail, and letting me know that it's all okay. The sidelines were littered with flowers, grasses, puddles of water, and berries. All the things that she loves to sniff, pee on, and rub in! There were 6 or 7 places on the hike where the trail forked, and I was reminded of how Beamer always, without fail, stopped at a fork in the road on our hikes, and waited for me to lead her in the right (and sometimes the wrong direction.) She always had a sense, and usually hers proved better than mine.
The top of Dam Mountain is literally a pointy rock. It's small yet iconic. I climbed up, sat on top, took off my backpack, and cried. I know the view from here is brilliant, but all I saw were the tree tops closest to me and the white white clouds.
I decided it was time to get B.
There is something so heart-wrenching and so final about seeing those you love as a pile of tiny stones and ashes in ziploc bag. In fact, it's down right cruel.
I poured Beams into my hands, stood up, and let her go.
The ashes carried off in the gentle breeze. The stones fell to the ground, dotting the landscape with white pebbles of love.
I sat back down defeated.
I wanted it to be more monumental. I wanted it to be less painful and more therapeutic.
I wanted there to be sunshine and love and light and beauty.
I wanted to feel like she was there and that I was not alone.
But there I was. All alone on a mountain top, one of my most favourite places to be, and I was miserable. And I felt alone.
And I missed Beamer with a terrible ache.
I would give anything to have my best friend back. Anything to pet her furry head atop that mountain, share a cookie and a drink of water like we always did, then say "Ok! let's go!" and watch her excitedly lead the way back down.
I got up to leave.
I said goodbye and I'll see you soon.
And with teary eyes, I sulkily climbed down the rock.
And then, with my very first step, like out of a carefully choreographed movie plot, the clouds parted, just a little bit. And a small ray of sun shone down on the rock where I had just been sitting.
I stopped.
"You've got to be kidding me!" I said aloud and laughed.
And I stood there staring, as I watched the clouds part more and the sun shine brighter, and this mountain top come alive.
In the very moment, I knew that, for me, Dam Mountain was heaven on Earth.
And that although Beams is no longer by my side, she, in fact, very much by my side, giving me light and love when I need it most. That's what she always did... and that's what she still does.
As I descended the trail, back to the top of Grouse, the cloud continued to move away, so fast that I could actually see it move in front of me. By the time I was half way, the sky was entirely blue and I could see as far as I could imagine. I was 1,000 feet higher than I had ever climbed before, and the view from up there was nothing short of majestic.
I can't think of a better place for my very best pal to rest.
