“To die is not a bad thing. Cells die every day. Paradoxically, it is how the body lives. Casings shed. Coverings fall away. New growth appears. It is how we stay vital. Likewise, ways of thinking die like cells, and we suffer greatly when we refuse to let what’s growing underneath make its way as the new skin of our lives. It is the stubbornness with which we return to let what’s growing underneath come through that pains us. It is the fear that nothing is growing underneath that feeds our despair.
It is the moment that we cease growing in any direction that is truly deadly. When resisting this process, we become a troubled guest, moaning like a human cow. We double the pain of living when we try to stop the emergence that all life goes through. Imagine if trees never shed their leaves, or if waves never turned over, or if clouds never dumped their rain and disappeared. … “
- Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening, August 9 – Preparing the Way,
As the autumn season comes to its end this week, most of the trees in my neighborhood have let go of their leaves; these leaves now mostly swept away by the wind or a leaf blower. Either way, they have let go of their role in feeding the tree they have clung to for half of the year. These leaves now are now part of what is feeding the soil through the winter, having returned to the very earth in which the trees are deeply rooted.
There are exceptions though. While walking our dog in the morning, I often travel past a block or more of maple trees whose leaves are brittle, brown and yet still clinging to their branches. Last winter I believed these trees had died and found myself pondering their replacement. Then spring arrived along with warmer weather, increased sunlight and warm rain. It was then that these trees finally let go of the leaves that no longer served them. It was in the spring that they made way for their greening and new growth. Or perhaps, it was the leaves that finally surrendered, falling to the earth to once again, continue the cycle of life, growth and death.
As the Winter Solstice approaches, I, like the leaves in the trees, have found myself needing to let go. It is a most difficult thing for me this particular season as the memories of my sister come to me so often. These memories often feel to me like the leaf that was caught in my back fence. The tree had let go of it, but the leaf itself seemed determined to cling to what are now only memories, rather than to naturally fall to the earth to become part of the cycle of life.
Like the this leaf, I have been imagining that to hold on to my grief – to avoid letting go of my sorrow - would be the only way I could hold my sister near me. As if life as it was before her death, is the only way I will be able to keep the memories of her alive.
I realize that I have had certain expectations about my sister’s death and the attending grief I have been experiencing. I seem to think that I needed to hold onto all of her as if she was still alive, and to hold all of the relationships I have with her family in a way that would prevent them from changing or rising above their own grief. Like the leaf stuck in fence, I was holding on to what used to be. I feared what would come, including pain and suffering if I let go. I had forgotten that my sadness and mourning would result in something new. So overwhelmed with grief, I had forgotten what a miracle nature is – that the leaves fall to the earth to become rich soil for future growth. I was clinging to anything that I thought would keep my relationship with my sister alive. If I did not let go, surely I would find a way to hang on to my brother-in-law, nieces and nephews without them changing. Then somehow my grief would lessen.
This has not been an easy journey. I have found myself lost many times and suspect that there will be things in the future that will trigger my desire to cling again to what used to be. For now, I have changed my perspective and this has changed my heart. This doesn’t mean that I have to let go of my sister in the process. In fact, it is the very opposite. She is clearly within me in a very profound way! She is the loam, the humus that nurtures my soul. Her love fills every cell of my being. Thoughts of her now bring me a sense of comfort and peace. She holds me when I need her. Her words guide me when I feel lost. Though death took her physical being from me, she is always a part of me. And I am so blessed to have known her!
Just like the leaf that finally let go of the fence that was cradling it, I surrendered to the natural cycle of life – birth, renewal, and death. This has healed my heart and made me whole again.