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Wyatt's Carin

I received a visit from a friend the other week. He's a good man with a gentle soul, a rare character in this world. We have often chatted about our common dream of hiking the Appalachian Trail; he will likely one day accomplish the feat of which I will only dream.  He's a naturalist of sorts, likes the woods, from what I can tell, finds his place in this world through nature...like my Wyatt.

It's odd how some people just have a way of making your day better because they are down to earth, honest, and good and right, cares about others, and affirms our belief that all is right with the world.

A while ago he and some buddies hiked a portion of the Muir Trail in California. He shared with me that he had built a carin, stack of rocks, in Wyatt's memory. I covered my face and cried at the sound of his words. I cried because there are people out there to carry on the memory of my son. I cried because it struck me as such a beautiful gift for him to remember my son when on a personal journey of his own. I cried because a living human being thought enough about my son and his unique gift to this world to remember him is such a way. I cried for the simple beauty of his thoughtfullness, for his gift of humanity.

There in the Pacific wilderness sits a memorial to my Wyatt. I think Wyatt would like that.
I know I do.  
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