Every Wednesday

Every Wednesday I will post something about grief. Sometimes it will be a reflection on an aspect of grief’s landscape. Now and then I will share from my own journey of grief, because in the sharing of our stories we find strength and build a community of people that support one another.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Listening in Quiet Woods

February 18

In the weeks after Evelyn’s death, I begin living in a cabin and piling up the stones of her memories.

Occasionally I walk into the woods to get away from grief’s overbearing presence, to listen to nature and forget my heart for a time in the grand mysteries of the wilderness.
I listen to dry leaves crunch under my shoes, breathe in fresh, cold air, and lift my head enough to see the birds that are talking in the trees — chickadees, nuthatches, and several wrens. Their songs make me smile for a moment before I’m pulled back under by grief.

In the stillness of the night hours, in the liturgy of the spaces that open in the dark, I hear sounds I have not heard before. 

Even though my life is in shambles, even though I don’t know where I go from here, even though it feels like so much has died, the woods are still here, alive, and beautiful.  

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