Landscape After Loss
Grief is described in a myriad of ways. It’s been likened to waves, taking you under, tossing you up, down, over, and then under again. Some describe it as a ball of yarn, tangled and twisted together in knots. Like Humpty Dumpty, grief has dimensions of taking what is broken and trying to put it back together again. However, the broken pieces don’t fit in the original way. These word pictures help us create a framework for how to look at our grief, process it, and move through it.
One of my favorite quotes is from C. S. Lewis’s book, “A Grief Observed,” which he wrote after the loss of his wife, Joy: “Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”
In 2015, my husband and I visited Yosemite National Park. As we entered the park, he obtained his lifetime senior pass to gain access to the National Parks in the U. S. It was our desire to visit and hike the parks in the western part of the country. Sadly, we were only able to visit a few. It became my desire to continue the quest to honor my husband.
A year after he died, in 2019, my two adult children and I visited Zion National Park in Utah. I was deep in my grief and on a mission to discover beauty in creation as a way to cope. The majestic views did not disappoint. One of the hikes we took was through a gorge called The Narrows, which traversed through the North Fork of the Virgin River. Gearing up with some boots and hiking poles, I slowly entered the cold, calm water.
As I gazed at the landscape of the rock formations around me, I put my senses on high alert to experience the full dimension of the sights and sounds I was immersed in. The river became the trail, curving through the rock formations on each side. I could only see what was right in front of me. Each bend contained an unknown landscape which could only be experienced when I arrived there. There was a sense of being fully present in the moment.
As I reflect back on hiking through the gorge, it represents my grief journey during the first year. It was a moment-by-moment experience, in which I had no clue what was around the bend. I had to stand in it, stay in it, and stay at it as I moved through it. It was where I was for a particular time.
Loss creates space to reveal a different landscape. As we grieve, we are on a journey, like a “winding valley,” knowing where we start is not where we will stay.
