When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
- Mary Oliver, When I Am Among the Trees
It has been so long since I have been among the trees. Who knows why? Depression? Lack of energy. Lack of will. Not wanting to face myself or the world.
These holidays have been killers and my memories have been coming and hitting me left and right without end. Even in my dreams. So I have been silent, lost in the pain of all of it.
You never come to terms with the loss. Of that boy. That joy. That happiness. My buddy. This pain will always exist, that I know. That I have realized and begun to accept. But that doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t make it any easier to wake up each day and once again realize he’s not here and we must go through another day without his presence.
I still haven’t figured out how to have any kind of happiness, except that with Carie, without our boy. Everything is hard. Everything is different. I often feel lost.
Hopeless.
Joyless.
Searching.
What is my place in this world now? I don’t know. But I always feel a calling that it should be more. I should be more. I need to do more. I need to make his life count. I need to make our life count.
But this world. It’s go go go. We never get time to breathe. We never get time to find ourselves. This was one of Kreed’s greatest gifts to me- realizing that life was meant to be slowed down, and to walk among these trees and truly take them in. The smell. The wind gently rolling across our shoulders. The rustle of the leaves and animals. The air we breathe. All of it. He was able to do that and it renewed him often. These trees were his favorite place to be (besides Five Guys of course). And I loved how we stayed in those moments without a single other care in this world.
Since he’s been gone the world has not stopped. It has kept on spinning, tumbling and turning me every which way until some days I can no longer find which way is up.
And I yearn for him. To hear him. To play with him. Hike with him. Be with him. And no one- and I mean no one- except those who have lost their sweet child- know this kind of unending pain that we will never again have time with our child. And the excruciating pain it is to wake up each and every single day without them.
But these trees. When I finally come again, peace comes even if for a moment. My tears fall- or really I sob. Because it hurts so damn much. And these trees are where it’s safe to feel. And I search for him and for meaning.
I search for those moments I used to love with him. And allow the pain to come and consume and just be. No matter how much we try to stuff it down and pretend it’s not there, it is. It always is. We just choose to decide when to let it come or other times it choose when it needs to come.
So I come to these trees to allow it to come. Acknowledge it. And grieve. And grieve. And grieve. And try to remember to continue to do this. To remember him, honor him and grieve him.
