My dad died early this year, April. Right when the earth was just thawing of winter and waking for spring. At the beginning of my busiest time growing plants.
During this time we could not do a ceremony for him. No one could do ceremonies. Being who my dad was he wouldn’t likely have wanted a big show anyway. He wished to be anatomically donated. So people could learn from him even after he is gone.
That’s the kind of man he was.
Not having a ceremony has felt a little like I have dragged out a funeral for months. That I am finding my own ways to learn from him without him here.
Where will I put my grave pillow? My flowers for him? Where will I go to talk to him?
I have traveled woods, rivers and even our skies looking for ways to find peace. Jumped from a plane,tried to grow a garden, made up stories of being in jungles to move forward. I am exhausted. Looking back, as I often do, when stuck in looking forward, this is what I learned.
He is everywhere. Which is part of what is so difficult. He was once just somewhere, one single place I knew, now he is everywhere I look. I just can’t hear him the same way.
When I wondered off to the Chattooga River this summer I knew I would find him. I knew if I quieted myself enough for a moment I could hear him again. Right here in the rapids of the water, in the sun that peaked through the dark woods, in the little raindrops, in my every step forward.
I don’t need a place to take flowers. He wouldn’t know to look for them in one single spot from me. They have to be picked and tied with a little piece of grass and floated down every river I see forever. Float down casually, tumble from rock to rock, pass by a boater or fisherman who will know, he will see these flowers and say “I wonder who you were?”
We want a place to remember our loved ones. A place to put their pillows. Their favorite flowers. To sit on a bench and chat about so much. I take myself back to right here when I need to listen to him. I was wandering a plant jungle yesterday and went back to the river today.
This is what grief does? Back and forth? It’s exhausting.
Looking forward soon.
The holidays are going to be difficult this year. Look further than you’ve ever had to for comfort during this time.
Peace be with you.
🍃 Heather
Aspenleaf 