Finding Refuge From a Broken Heart

Whidbey Island 5

In the first months after a death, grief stomps on our hearts 24 hours a day. Throughout the first year, it repeatedly stabs us out of the blue, and our hearts feel battered and heavy.

            When the endless pounding on our hearts becomes too much, when our friends are frustrated trying to answer our unanswerable questions, and tired of hearing that we’re still sad, where do we find refuge?

            I head for nature because its otherness draws me out of my shell where the same thoughts keep circling around. Nature’s grandeur overwhelms me. The excitement of birds and the playing of squirrels remind me that life continues. When I’m stumped by something in grief, I can sit for hours by a river or on the side of a mountain and listen to nature until insights come. Nature’s wilderness also forces me pay attention to what is going on around me because animals with large teeth live here. If I want to stay alive, I should know what is moving in the forest around me, and be ready to respond. 

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            At dawn in Yosemite, I walk down to the river and scoop the ice-cold water in my hands, hold it for a moment, and splash it on my face. A coyote trots through the meadow in front of me, while a red-tailed hawk soars majestically overhead.

            On the trail, the rising sun warms my face from the chill that lingers from night. The passage of the day is marked with encounters with deer, chipmunks, and hawks as I hike across mountains and through scenic meadows that take my breath away.

            Sometimes the hike is hot, dry, and without any interesting views, and the day is one long trudge of frustration. Sometimes I see so much death in the forest, the carcasses of animals and the remnants of birds, that I begin to think this is the reality of life, and everything is either dead or dying. 

            Then a yellow-bellied marmot pops up and plays hide and seek with me as I cross a talus field. An American dipper flies to the rapids in front of me and sings its elegant, solitary song. The sunset bathes the mountain peaks in the red and purple of alpenglow, and I find hope in the mystery that surrounds me.

            Nature gives me a break from grief, and helps me find my way through.