Gracefully Beginning

I remember the day well.

The first year I celebrated my daughter’s birthday without her, I wanted to be alone, and yet I didn’t.  I didn’t want others' grief around me. But I wanted to be recognized, acknowledged how difficult it was to celebrate. There was no brave face to put on.

I decided to go for a hike at the Loveland Pass Trail in Colorado.  I knew nature couldn’t offer me words, but it could offer its own kind of gentle support. Every time I visited the mountains, I felt my steps grow stronger. The seasons were changing, the air, crisp to breathe in and the sun warmed my skin. It brushed aside the everyday and filled my senses. 

 

As the trail ascended, it hugged a small mountain creek. I stopped often to listen to the snowmelt running and watch the sun catch the movement of the water. Like the water trusts the earth to deliver it to its next destination, I was tasked with trusting that earth and heaven would have my back. Even if I couldn’t see what it looked like, I had to trust that it would deliver me into a new way of living. There was a soft breeze that swayed the trees and caused a touching between all of us.  The air, trees, the ground and me.  That ground felt gritty with a mixture of gravel and dirt.   It moved under my feet as if to slow me down.  ‘Don’t go through this day too fast. I' ll be here with you’ I could hear. 

 

As I climbed the mountain, I felt Catie walk beside me.  She was there.  From the place that knows beyond thinking, I sensed her spirit. It was the same sense I had before she was born, before I could hold her. In the many years of loving her before and after her death, I learned her unspoken love language.  I didn’t need my senses to make my truth, I allowed my heart to open and remember her spirit, soul.

 

Heaven held earth, and earth returned the embrace. Perhaps there is no separation between the two spaces. Perhaps our loved ones walk beside us all the time.

I knew she was there.

As I took the last step at the top of the trail, the mountains were breathtaking.   The beauty, splendor, magnificence.  My eyes were beginning to spoon feed my heart and soul of what the earth was around me.  My ears held soft lullabies from the trees that cradled all my feelings inside.  Nothing felt harsh, sad or wrong in that moment.  Instead it felt like a miracle. Much like the first time I held Catie as a baby.   I didn’t want to forget that feeling of what around me was reminding me about living.  So I took this picture.

When I got back to the car I started going through the pictures I took.  This one was evidence.  Heaven holds earth and earth holds heaven.  The pink energy field of Catie was hugging, surrounding, loving me.  Just like I did her on her birthday.  She was helping to birth me in this tender, fragile part of life.  Transitioning from what is seen to what is not seen. Trusting our spirits are always present, together.

My practice is built upon the belief that we can always invite our loved ones closer. That love is eternal, forever, endless. I believe there is a field, ever close, where we can meet them once more—across time, across space. From this shared heartspace, we can travel there together.