A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #mountainretreat

A Hug from The Mountains

When my daughter and I planned our weekend away so close to our birthdays, we decided to make it into a birthday celebration.  Just the two of us. A trip to enjoy the mountains, to shop, try a new restaurant or two and to rest. Both of us have been going at full speed and we needed this time to rejuvenate.  I couldn’t wait. 

We left for our weekend on the 11th, the date of the day that my father passed away.  That was thirty years ago. There is something surreal about that. He had passed just before Payton was born. I spoke at his funeral. And went on to lose my Godfather the next week, my own birthday the following, and then gave birth to his first (and only) granddaughter. We toasted to my dad on our sunny patio, facing the mountains, with a chardonnay. A fitting start to a spiritual weekend.

The weather graced us with a full moon and then lots of snow. The first night I woke at my usual 3 a.m. from the brightness of the moon shining into my room. It is the ‘pink moon’ and symbolizes the importance of renewal, hope, balance and growth. Fitting to be in my magical place to feel this. I heard Zane’s voice, “get your camera, mama, don’t miss this.” And so, I spent the first night snapping pictures with the spirit of my boy.

The next day, the snow arrived.  It was a bit surprising, since the previous forecasts were sunny and warm. We adjusted, took out the umbrellas and headed out. A magical day started with mimosas, then shopping, a shared lunch, more shopping and dinner. The conversations melted away the hours. Not that my daughter and I have ever had a shortage of topics to speak of, but this day, included the sharing of past encounters that may or may not have helped shape us into who we are now, sitting in front of one another.

It makes sense that our past shapes our future. What our relatives went through, their stresses become part of our own make-up. We reminisced about our own family history and how this may have made an impression on her pre-birth. And how it included that each of us were forced onto this shaky path after Zane was killed to handle unbelievable grief.

We shared the discussions we have had with others who lost a child or siblings and the unspoken responsibility of supporting those who follow our own fate. We talked about tips, quotes, and antidotes to the incredible pain we live with. And as we chatted, I was reminded of the strength within my daughter, for others. Her desire to shelter those from the pain that was bestowed upon her. I heard her testimony of how tired she is and yet, the need to stay strong fuels her to go on. And I went to bed with a heavy heart. This is her life. I cannot change this. Ever. For either of us.

When someone you truly love is taken away, you change. You become a person who must survive.  How you do that becomes a unique journey. But each grief warrior finds a way to face the questions to which there are no answers. Each finds a way to travel a path of eternal heartbreak. Each finds a way to stand and keep upright. And, most importantly, each of us finds a way to re-open our hearts to those in our life and those who join us through their own personal loss.

This trip, Canmore reminded me of its deeper side. The power of the mountains. The solid, breathtaking, can’t be shaken rock solid symbols of how we can stay calm and carry on. The area that became my salvation, my son’s happy place, my husband’s playground. And this weekend, I saw, has become my daughter’s guiding light.

Joy In Its New Form

When we downsized it was with the plan to buy a small weekend retreat in Canmore with the extra money from the sale of our house. Over the last year we have been looking for just the perfect spot. What I thought would be a simple and exciting adventure has turned into a battle of endless meetings with mortgage specialists, bankers, realtors, and insurance agents. It has not been easy. At the end of the day, we did find a little treasure with a beautiful mountain view.  It checks off all the boxes of a place that will be there for family and friends to rejuvenate in. So why am I not ecstatic?

Grief has a way of playing with our emotions and depleting our energy. The work we have put into getting this place and my fears around will this investment pay off have clouded the fact that I now own my small piece of heaven. It is further complicated by the fact that this is Zane’s wish, and he will not physically be able to join me. I have no energy left to feel joy.

When joy tries to enter our lives after we have lost a loved one, we seem to question it. Perhaps because it is different than the joy we had experienced before loss. Joy has become a stranger to the heartbreak we have been consumed with. When it arrives now, it is softer.  It is quieter. It brings with it that nasty bittersweet taste. It brings with it guilt.  It brings with it a tone of sadness. The reminder of ‘how life should be’ is not what we hold. Joy, after grief, is more complicated.

I heard my husband say to a friend that he watched me walk into our (new) condo and my smile was something he has not seen since Zane left. I didn’t realize I had smiled. I do know that on the balcony, facing the mountains, I could feel his spirit. I could feel an invisible hug from the mountains whispering to me, “welcome home”. And that feeling brought me to tears and standing there alone I thought to myself perhaps there can be healing here.

With that wee bit of hope, I pondered later how could I bring the joy of this place to fruition. How can I let go to really be happy about what we have? And I realized that I need to bring Zane in.  I need to do what we grief warriors have been taught to do. In everything we do, we must honor those we have lost. If this is going to be a place of healing, it must have some characteristics of those I miss.  It must reflect their likes and it must be filled with treasures that bring me peace. How do I turn our revenue property into a place of healing? Not just for me, but for anyone who comes into our place.  How do I create an environment that will bring comfort and joy?

With that, my energy raised. I have a place that I can turn into a safe spot where my soul can experience a reprieve. I can take my bittersweet, melancholy life and plop it in front of the majestic mountain view, allowing nature to do what she does best. Ground me. Connect me. Remind me that Zane is still here. This plan of action opens my heart for joy, in its new form, to arrive.

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