Slogging Through the Jungle

February 2024

So much of grief feels like slogging through a thick jungle forest.

Only the repetitive swing of a machete can find the path ahead a few steps at a time.

Moving forward, yes. But it can feel like a death march toward an unknown destination.

Indeed, for those who’ve lost a loved one, we are carrying death in us with every step.

But.

There comes a time when the machete drops to our side in exhaustion.

Lifting our head to take a breath, we realize the foliage of confusion is only waist-level now.

We can stand up straight and see sunlight and the landscape that surrounds us.

The path peaks through the grasses below and the foliage ahead looks like it might be even lower and less dense.

The destination may not be clear yet, but many directions beckon with hope.

This is where I’m at right now. Yeah, I can keep my head down, some days whacking away to make a way forward.

But I can also stand in the light of hope, tip my head back and feel the warmth on my face.  I can will myself to open my eyes and pick a direction.

Because,  I believe, there are no wrong paths out of grief, if I keep my eyes fixed on the Light with gratitude and curiosity.

It’s enough just have the dark jungle at my back.

I wrote these lines because I believe there are no wrong paths out of grief, if I keep my eyes fixed on the Light with gratitude and curiosity.

It really is enough just have the dark jungle at my back.

I still carry his death inside of me. But instead of a weight on my back, it’s moving around to a warmth surrounding my heart. And though deep spasms of pain clinch down occasionally, the weight of the grief is gifting me courage and wisdom to walk these new pathways spread before me.