Lessons from the Woods

I realized this morning that this week marks eighteen years since my person left this Earth. 

When we were young, we went on a million adventures. We would go hiking often and she would always pack her backpack full to the brim - neatly packed with snacks and plenty of napkins for everyone, just in case. Mid hike, we would always find a spot to sit, usually the most perfect rock, and enjoy a breath and our snacks. 

Today, I woke up feeling emotional and couldn’t quite piece together why. I picked myself up and brought myself to my favorite bakery for a pick me up cappuccino. At the counter, I was called to also grab a cute St. Patrick’s Day cupcake and a drink for my hike later that day. 

I came home and began to pack my backpack, filled to the brim, with my cupcake and drink in tow. I also reached into the closet for a fancy napkin and fork, just in case. As I was trying to fit all of these things into my comically small backpack, I giggled to myself. My backpack was filled to the brim and I realized that I couldn’t be more like her if I had tried. 

As I embarked on my journey into the woods with my over packed bag, I realized what I was actually carrying with me in my heart. 

I realized that she is so much a part of me - even though I spent the same amount of time with her that I have without. I realized that I carry so many parts of her inside of me. Parts that make me so much of who I am today. 

I didn’t realize it, but my journey into the woods was like a portal that opened. A portal of both beauty and pain. Both which exist within my own little body, packed to the brim. 

And so I walked with beauty. 

I carry her strength in my heart. I walk with her strength and feel my own strength emerge. Strength that keeps me going, putting one foot in front of the other as tears flow down my face. 

I carry her courage in my breath. I walk with her courage and feel my own as I try not to fall along the path. I stumble and am reminded of the courage that it takes to fall, to not be afraid to fail when trying new things. 

I carry with me her grace. I am reminded, as I walk, of her Grace that allows me to pick myself back up and keep moving. 

I am her and she is me and we keep moving together in an intricate dance inside my heart. 

And so I walked with pain. 

So many times I have had to let go. I have gotten so good at it that I have forgotten what it feels like to hold on to something. 

I have pushed these feelings in my heart down for so long because of the pain that comes from remembering and not being able to reach out and touch her - feel her hands reach for mine in my hardest moments. 

A breaking in my chest. A separation point that feels like it's ripping me apart from the inside out. This feeling has become familiar. 

And so I walked with choice. 

The most difficult thing in my journey has not been letting go. It has been holding on to these pieces of her that live inside of me. It has taken eighteen years, but I am done letting go of her. I am choosing to honor those parts of me that are beauty and pain intertwined, contained within my chest. 

I take a breath as I make my way to the top of the mountain. I find the best seat in the house and unfold my neatly packed napkin and snacks. Today, I choose to take a breath, to celebrate these parts of me that mirror her that have been pushed down for so long. 

I realize that by doing this, I choose to emerge, show my face to the world with all of my parts fused together - Frankenstein’s monster of sorts. Here on this mountaintop emerges my grace…strength…courage. 

I took a breath and felt my Grandmother’s whispers in the wind. 

I reflect back to the day before when I told my friend that I wanted to head into the woods and never come out. I have realized that this is what grief has felt like for me. Eighteen years of journeying. Afraid for so long to enter this space of remembering. Afraid that I might make the choice not to come back which is understandable when facing the parts of ourselves that we pack deep down. When faced with these intense feelings and pain I doubted if I would make it to the other side to see the beauty. 

On my way down the mountain, the sun shone down and washed over my face and I let the river hold my rage. And my rage turned to sadness. I hugged a tree that reminded me of her. Two trees nestled together as if embracing, holding each other and I cried at the base of that tree. And my sadness turned to gratitude. 

As I continued my descent back down that mountain, backpack now lighter, heart still full, I began to be able to hold both pain and beauty in the same breath. At that moment an emergence began to happen and I thanked my Grandmother for walking with me. For always walking with me. For holding onto me and reminding me of who I was  and where I came from. From whom I was forged and for whom I still carry the torch of strength, courage, and grace. 

I think that’s the most beautiful thing - Choosing to go into the woods, not knowing if you will make it out and continuing to try and make it out anyway. To fight yourself back by delicately dancing with letting go and holding on. Realizing that you are always held, no matter what you are struggling with by those who have walked before you. 

For eighteen years I have pushed these parts down that most reminded me of her, but they emerged anyway and I am so thankful. And I emerged from my journey today, what felt like eighteen years later, beautifully broken and pieced together with all of our parts. 

If nothing else, let my journey into the woods be proof that you can experience the most soul wrenching grief and emerge on the other side. That if you continue to show up for yourself, the parts that are speaking to you will slowly reveal themselves. 

Strength…courage…grace. 

Every single person you have ever encountered has something to offer, breathe them in. It may feel scary, but let them in, despite how much you’ve had to let go of. Let them become parts of you. Even if only in brief encounters, let yourself be changed by the world and this beautiful life. Breathe it all in so you can let go, so you can choose what you get to hold. 

May you find your path through the woods today. May each breath lead you closer to your lost parts. May we all find the courage, strength, and grace to keep moving in whatever direction we choose…one breath at a time.