I was overwhelmed with the immense inheritance of isolation that bereavement bestowed upon me. The biggest question keeping me from moving forward was:

“Where do I even begin?”

Analysis paralysis when all things seem unorganized, depression dust devils making the barren widowed wasteland look impossible. How do I even start?

This week we had the celebration of life for my Aunt Sue. We all reminisced about her love of home, family, music and her garden. When I was younger, we spent hours together and everything had to have music playing. Not a task would go by without the music beginning first. Little did I know that back then my aunt was sowing seeds I’d desperately need later to grow.

After my father and Clayton both passed, I had trouble moving forward. Hit with a pandemic and I was forced to face my grief alone. I had to start somewhere but where? I wished life was easy again like when I was younger. What else to do but start playing music.

What seemed like a simple task has had a profound effect. There is a deep magic in music. The music got me moving. The music gave me life. From the music bloomed my first pure moments of joy after loss – I began to dance again.

As I continue to grow forward from my losses, I am starting to understand this landscape around isn’t barren land left behind by bereavement. I’ve come to realize that as I learn how to grow through grief, I can cultivate its grounds. I have had to turn over much sadness into these soils. I have unintentionally irrigated the dirt with my tears and poured forth fear, frustration and feelings which have fertilized the land.

Unknowingly, I had laid forth foundations needed to continue to cultivate myself and begin to harvest the happiness. All farmers know that it takes time, work and love to reap what you sow. Gratitude shows you the lessons weaved throughout your life.

 

Dear Aunt Sue,

Thank you for all the music. Thank you for encouraging me to dance. Thank you for making me a successful grief gardener…

Love,

Bryan