Perspective

Last year, on the first anniversary of Eddie's death, I spent a few days totally alone in Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon and Palm Springs. This wasn't random. I needed to go to these three places.

We had planned this very trip for the holidays of 2009. I had never been to the Grand Canyon and Eddie was determined to rectify that situation. Vegas, because it's there. Palm Springs because I could fly home fairly cheaply from that airport. Like many of our trips, Eddie would take the roads for the whole thing while I flew in or out because of work.

I knew something was up when he insisted that we would drive out in the Canyonero.

What? Why on earth would we take something with four wheels? To a spectacular spot like the Grand Canyon? He had two reasons - he was afraid we would run into bad weather and he wanted to bring Jake. I thought he had lost his mind. Taking Jake would be fun but I didn't want to waste all those miles in a car. Especially if we were going to be on roads I had never been on before.

But he insisted and so the plans were made. We would leave on Christmas Eve, visit the Grand Canyon, spend New Years Eve in Vegas and then drop me off at the Palm Springs airport on my birthday, Jan. 3rd. He and Jake would slowly head back east with no set ETA.

Christmas came and went that year and my seat on that plane was empty. I never knew exactly why he was so insistent that we drive instead of ride but I have my suspicions. He was a very romantic guy and something tells me he had a surprise planned for me. That was so Eddie.

It seemed that the anniversary of his death was the appropriate time for me to make the journey to the Grand Canyon. And leave a little of him there.

On the evening of December 6th, 2010, I arrived at the El Tovar hotel on the rim of the canyon. It was overwhelmingly dark. I guess when you are on the edge of something that big with no electricity for miles it stands to reason that it would be really, really dark.

I wanted to make sure I was out at the canyon before sunrise. I had no idea where I was going, I just knew that I'd know the spot when I reached it.

They say it is darkest before the dawn, and in this case it was true. Walking along the path was like being blind. The canyon was to my left and I could barely make out the edge of the paved trail. I walked more than a mile and it didn't seem to be getting any lighter. So I kept going. It was very cold but that wonderful crisp, dry cold.

Finally, I was able to make out the shapes of trees and there was just the slightest hint of light ahead of me. I kept going. It needed to be just the right spot.

I've watched a lot of sunrises but this was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was really slow and very gradual. And with every passing minute, the colors of the canyon changed. It was amazing and breathtaking.

I finally found the right spot. So I sat on a rock and waited.

I couldn't see the sun from where I was sitting. I was facing north. As the darkness faded, the sun's rays were playing off of the canyon walls. I will never forget how insignificant I felt at that moment. This canyon had been formed millions of years before. And I was reminded of one of Eddie's favorite sayings. One that can still be found on the profile of his Facebook page.

"An insignificant speck in the history of man"

I opened the bottle that held his ashes and I threw them out over the canyon. Little, tiny specks of a very special man floated slowly out of sight. In a place that is so vast one cannot help but feel small.

And perspective becomes aligned.