Deciduous refers to
- the falling off at maturity
- the dropping of a part that is no longer needed
- the falling away after the purpose is finished
Deciduous refers to
It was the 4th anniversary of our son’s death, and I was having a difficult time. My husband was working out of town, and this meant for the first time we would be apart on this date.
I turned to the woods, a place I find myself often when I seek peace. As I started the trail, I noticed a tree that was bent and twisted. Despite the fact that the base of the trunk was nothing but a shell, the tree continued to live and strive to reach the sun.
I felt a kinship with that tree. At times, I felt like a shell of my old self, yet a part of my soul was wanting to find my sunshine again.
Isn’t it wonderful that the universe remains constant? Even if our world feels like it has collapsed, the universe remains the same. In my early grief, I was angry that the rest of the world continued after Clint’s death. Now I find comfort in that consistency. The sun is in its place even if I don’t see it.
Further along on the trek, my eyes embraced nature at work around me, and my heart began to understand that I could learn things from this adventure. Take the river, for example. I saw sections of raging currents of turbulent water followed soon by calm peaceful pools. Some parts of the same river appeared impossible to cross, yet just around the bend of the trail, I found large boulders that created easy crossings. My grief journey is like the river; at times, it is calm and other times, it is raging.
When I feel that my grief is impossible to cross, I need only to be patient and take it one step at a time.
This article was originally published in April 2010 on www.opentohope.com, a website whose mission is to help those who have suffered a loss to cope with their pain and invest in the future.
With Father’s Day approaching, I would like to take this opportunity to express my love and gratitude to the father of our sons, my husband, Alan. He carried us through those darkest times of early grief after the death of our youngest son, Clint. As I come out of the fog of anguish and begin to re-enter our new normal, I can appreciate all the many ways he cared for us.
Originally posted on Debra’s memorial site: www.clint-reagan.memory-of.com
In the beginning, it mattered to me the hows and whys of Clint’s death. My heart and my head argued. My heart keep saying, “He can’t be gone, we still have so much love to give him.” In a strange unfair twist, this love was even greater because it was not hindered with all the stress and chaos involved with dealing with someone struggling with mental illness and drug addiction. This wasn’t fair. I became angry. I had done everything I thought was right. I had been a stay at home mom up until middle school. We were an intact family. Clint had experienced some privileges in his life. We were there for him every step of the way. We tried to handle what we knew and what we understood.