The trail began an easy, zig-zag and up-and-down path along a ridge for the next three miles.
Along the way I met a section hiker going southbound. She told me her name was Jan and she was from Australia.
Jan said she was finishing a hike she and her husband started. “But then he got sick and we had to get off the trail,” she added.
We ended our good-natured conversation and went our separate ways. It was only then that I realized a key part of her story, which she hadn’t told me.
It dawned on me that as we were talking, she held in her fingers a man’s wedding ring. It hung on a chain around her neck. I finally made the connection. Her husband had died, and now she was finishing the hike they had set out to do together.
How could I have missed this? How could I have been so insensitive to not notice and not show some sympathy?
A short time later I reached a hiker register. When I looked through the names signed in the book, I saw Jan’s name. Just above her name, perhaps written as an afterthought, was “and Paul.”
Reading that broke my heart.