Back in Estes

Being in Estes Park, Colorado a few weeks ago brought back fond memories: As a twelve-year old, I remember peering out the window of our Winnebago motor home as we inched our way up Trail Ridge Road; my brother, sister and I us ooo-ing and aahing at the scenery which was immediately followed by my mom telling my dad… “Earl, keep your eye on the road.” My father loved the mountains. My mother loved the beach. We visited both as we grew up and had a blast no matter where we went.

Not-so-fast forward some twenty-four years later, and I’m back in Estes. This time with two goals in mind: Spend time hiking with my good friend Barry and scattering my dad’s ashes in the Rockies. He passed away three months prior to this visit from complications from Parkinson’s, dementia, two broken hips and 40 years of hard work. A little of dad is on the top of Hallet Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Thirteen years after that, I returned with my son on our first of many national park visits. We stood at the edge of Bear Lake and I pointed to the summit of Hallet and said Pa-Pa was up there. He smiled, but his attention quickly turned to hiking around the lake.

Today, I walked on water.
Bear Lake was frozen.
Dad was on Hallet.
Part of him up there.
A lot of him in me.