Even when I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
for you are close beside me.
This is a picture of Yosemite Valley. It is where Mike and I spent our honeymoon. It was October 1984 and I will never forget the clear crisp air, the golden aspens and the peace in the valley. This is one of my favorite places and I am so thankful I was able to share it with Mike on two different occasions.
This picture just does not do it justice. The peaks are so high and in the middle of the day, you can find yourself in their great shadows. I can feel so small in this valley.
The last couple of days I have been feeling small again; like I am living in the shadows of life. Yes, I “survived” the official one year mark of Mike’s passing. And I have to say there was a sense of relief come November 1 and 2. And then it hit. The shadow. I find myself stumbling again. I wish I could identify what triggered this wave because then it would give me some sense that I might be able to control this thing called grief. But grief is not linear. It is circular, spiral, twist and turn-y and you never know what is going to trigger the sadness, depression, or anger.
I took a long look at the picture above and thought about my time in Yosemite valley. And I thought about the shadows. They move. They shift and change with the sun. Sometimes they shift quickly and sometimes they don’t. But the thing I hold onto is that they don’t last forever. And in the meantime, I will learn to be still. This is a song by the Fray that reminds me to do just that.