Returning to El Matador

Our love for celebrating life started long before Katherine's stroke.  In fact, about a year after we married and moved to California in 2006, we began a tradition that continues to this day.  Katherine's birthday is March 8, and mine is April 1, so we decided that instead of subjecting our friends to two separate birthday parties back to back, we would just throw a joint party for each other.

Having just come off the theme-centric party circuit of college Greek life, we continued in that party-planning vein because, who doesn't love a good theme?!  As new Californians and residents of Malibu (our law school married housing dorm did actually have a view of the ocean), we figured there would be no better theme for our first big joint birthday party than the beach.

Our inexperience and youthful naïveté prompted us to choose the most spectacular beach in Malibu for the event, El Matador Beach. Never mind that this particular beach was a good hour’s drive from where most of our friends lived or that it was located at the bottom of a rather precarious cliff.  We were not deterred and rather than a simple "potluck" picnic, we hauled down a small tent, tables, linens, serving ware, and food and drinks for about 50 people.  I am really not sure what we were thinking, but it worked, thanks to some dear friends, who made untold trips up and down, like a line of ants carrying coolers and boxes from the top of the cliff to the beach below.

After hours of set up, not to mention weeks of planning, it was time for the party.  We tend to suffer from short-term weather memory in Southern California, but April and May can be quite gloomy, particularly on the beach.  As our guests began to arrive, God bless them, it began to rain. Thankfully, it was more of a heavy misting than a full-on lighting storm, but still it seemed the whole ordeal might be a bust.  As "devastating" as it seemed at first, almost everyone still came, and took off their shoes in the sand and let their hair get wet.  Something about that very unexpected element at the party not only made it a little more fun, but I'm pretty sure that night was not soon forgotten by our guests.

Those memories have always been so pleasant to think back on as they were so representative of who Katherine and I are: a team, celebrating life together. After Katherine's stroke, remembering that lovely time and others like it were suddenly overwhelmed by the painful realization that they might always only be memories, never to be experienced again.

I had never considered the inherent physicality of that party—the carrying boxes, walking through sand, climbing up and down the hillside—until Katherine's physical abilities were largely decimated. Would we ever be able to make the climb down to that spectacular place again?  Would our memories of those times on El Matador Beach stay just memories, fading like the misty rain on an April evening?

In April of 2012, six years after our momentous celebration at El Matador Beach, we had another celebration of sorts there, and in many ways, this one was far more momentous than the first.

My family made the Spring Break trek to Los Angeles for almost ten years following Katherine's stroke.  Packing it in, "carpe diem", YOLO, all seem to be hard-wired into our DNA. But as much as we love the idea of the beach, truth be told, we don't get there as often as we should, considering our current home is about 5 miles from it.  So of course, out-of-town visitors are usually a good motivation for heading to one of Southern California's greatest treasures.

For some reason, this particular time, we were feeling very nostalgic. A day in Malibu with my visiting family seemed like a fun thought.  Moreover, maybe it was time to go back to El Matador with Katherine.  As anticipated, my family was up for it.

As my rather rusty Spanish translates, "El Matador" does technically mean "The Killer" (usually referring to bullfighters in Spain). Needless to say, the washed out cliffside trail (before you even reach the steep stairs descending to the beach) could have rather easily fulfilled the "El Matador" name.  Katherine and I slowly but confidently walked in tandem, arms intertwined and legs in sync.  We received some much-needed back up from my Dad and sisters as we reached said "killer" washed out portion.  After successfully traversing that and the stairs, which actually took around 30 minutes to maneuver, we came upon this sight.

Like all good things in life, sometimes the most perilous, challenging journeys, result in the most spectacular light at the end of the tunnel.

The hours we spent following that descent will forever be ensconced in my memory as some of the sweetest I have ever known.

So whatever your "El Matador" might be, whatever mountain you may need to climb up or valley you may need to descend into, you should do it.  The path will likely be worn and steep but the precious time spent there will be well worth the journey.