A Nature Walk with Grief - Toot Sweet 4 Two

My mother’s sudden decline, while not unexpected, was still a shock. Grief overwhelming me, I wanted to retreat to our bedroom, close the door, crawl into bed, curl up into a ball, and cry.

But, I couldn’t.

Tears quote by Ella Higginson– FREE Printable

I had to stay strong for my family. My sister, Dawn, her daughter, Nicole, and Nicole’s daughter, Belle, my mother’s great-granddaughter, drove straight from Arizona to my mother’s care facility. Other family members were on their way. My phone calls the day before set into motion a sequence of canceled appointments, changed work shifts, planned activities placed on hold, scheduled sporting events rescheduled, as everyone else rearranged their lives to come to Mom’s bedside.

We joined together in the vigil – the vigil that no one wants to do, but the vigil we need all to do – sitting by our mom holding her hand, telling her we are with her, that we love her, trying our hardest not to break down. The hospice social worker had told me that hearing is one of the last senses to go, so it was important to keep talking to her and not about her.

My mother’s 4-year-old great-granddaughter, Belle, sat with us chattering away as a 4-year-old does, pulling toys out of the large soft-sided bag that her mom, my mother’s granddaughter remembered to bring. How can a 4-year-old wrap their head around impending death when a 62-year-old can’t?

After a while, I needed a break so asked my great-niece if she’d like to go on a treasure hunt. Hand-in-hand, Belle and I left the room and wandered into the front yard of the facility. A sweet gum tree stood front and center, bare branches reaching towards the sun, it’s spiny brown balls scattered hither and yon.

“Belle, do you what to collect those spiky balls and take them to my house and make something with them? Don’t you think that would be fun?” I asked her.

She hesitated, looking up at me with her big brown eyes, “I’m a-scared…won’t they stick me?”

“No honey. Not if you hold them right. Let me show you.” We filled our bag full of spiky balls and went back inside to share our found treasures with Dawn and Nicole in my mom’s room. Throughout the rest of our time there, Belle asked endless questions about what we were going to make with those balls. I assured her it would be a masterpiece.

The next morning we decided to add to our gum ball treasures by taking a walk around my yard. While Charlie, Dawn, and Nicole stayed inside to clean up from breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead, Belle and I searched the garage for the perfect garden basket. Choosing one big enough for the treasure hunt, but not too big or heavy to carry, we walked outside into the morning sunlight.

A beacon of ethereal light and effervescence, Belle’s cascading ringlets shimmered like marmalade in the sun framing a face of translucent porcelain set with soulful brown eyes.

Skillfully leading me like a pied piper of spritely fairies, she beckoned me down our garden path swinging my favorite round wicker basket by the handle in her small hand.

Darting from flower to flower like a hummingbird on the wing, she called out in pure awe – to her, each flower more beautiful than the last. Her tiny hands skimmed the petals softly as she chose just the right place to pluck them.

Once in hand, she lifted each flower to her nose for a whiff – every flower, no matter how small, gets whiffed as if each flower has the most intoxicatingly fragrant perfume.

Satisfied with her latest acquisition, she laid it gently in her basket amongst the other collected treasures. Chattering happily as we stroll on and on, Belle’s constant questions force me to pay attention to her and not dwell on the day ahead.

She finds a mass of tiny twig-like material in the mulch and asks “what’s this?” as she holds it up to show me. At first, I thought it was a bird’s nest but on closer inspection, I decided it’s dried palm tree bark. But, her discovery sets us out on a new quest – to find a bird’s nest.

We find a bee…

And a snail…

A few pinecones…

And, finally, a bird’s nest on the ground.

Adding the bird’s nest to her basket of nature’s treasures,

She continues searching for more…

Each flower held up for inspection.

Putting the basket of collected treasures on the ground, Belle suddenly announces, “I want to dance,” as she unfurls her arms wide like butterfly wings, turning round and round.

Listening to music that no one else can hear, she twirls, leaps, spins, bends, skips, jumps – an angel unaware. Ponytail flying to the beat of her inner drum, her joy reflected on her perfect face, peace washes over me replacing the grief. My mother’s legacy lives on in this perfect, beautiful child.

Dance over, she unleashes that glorious hair, tossing it to set it free, shading her eyes from the sun…

And gets back to the work at hand, picking more flowers.

Later inside, we set up a table, cut some cardboard, get out the glue gun and make masterpieces from our nature walk’s found treasures.

When grief overwhelms, I’ll remember Belle’s lessons, unexpected gifts to a grieving soul:

dance to the music within you,

stop and smell the roses,

appreciate the glory of nature’s beauty,

let your hair down when the spirit moves you,

and make something with your hands.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

– Washington Irving