I jumped

It's not very timely, as I bungee jumped on May 14th, but I can't resist the urge to blog about it. It was the second anniversary of loosing dad, last year I did tandem skydiving. My friend suggested the word "conceal" for grieving. Conceal seems fitting, as I've learned to not have expectations of my grief, how long, how often...I take things as they come, I go with the flow more. I do the best I can to prepare for days I know will hurt more, and try to honour his memory as best I can. Sometimes I find myself wondering "what would dad do?" And often he answer is outlandish, and much more fun than the regular way. 

This is me right before jumping.

Two guys check the rope, tell you not to touch it on the way down. 

This is my favourite picture, I made it my profile picture. 

This one is ALL BUTT. 

This is me grabbing the rope, petrified.

This one will give Grams heat failure. 

This is me grabbing the rope on the rebound.

This is me suddenly remembering not to grab the rope.

Tears of joy I'm sure. 

I was so pumped full of adrenaline, it took a good two hours for my nerves to calm down. As I was walking back along the platform back to the car, the strap on my purse broke. It hit the platform, and I grabbed the railing, like it was a gun shot. I was a shaking, terrified mess and somehow floated to the car on jelly legs. 

Quick, ask me if I'll do it again. No. Absolutely not. 

I'd argue it's actually scarier than skydiving. At least then I was strapped to a professional, who did the act of throwing us out the plane. And after the free fall, the gliding down to earth was calming, and you land on solid ground. Bungee jumping you have to throw yourself off the platform, and you rebound wildly a bunch of times, and when you stop you're hanging in a harness hundreds of feet above a gully. 

Cross that off the bucket list. Check.