Last night I watched a Hallmark movie that left me in uncontrollable tears. The story of a woman who was mourning the loss of her son and through her hospice work met an elder woman who had lived through the loss of four sons. The power and beauty of that story, of trying to get to know death because it felt like death was calling while spending time with one who had endured a lifetime of loss and never lost love. As she drew to the end of her life, this woman offered such beautiful metaphors for living through the hard times and cherishing the blessed ones.
Eyes leaking all over my nightgown, I went to sit outside as daylight was turning to dusk. The wind whispered through the cottonwood trees as I sat at the edge of the yard, the golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over the tree’s shadows.
I closed my eyes, feeling the soft breeze brush against my skin, and for a moment, I am transported back to a time when my world felt whole.
It has been nineteen years Sunday since that day, the day our son Ryan was so abruptly taken from us. The pain immediate, a searing wound that cut deep into my very soul. At first, I fought against it, then I yelled at the empty airspace around me, railing at the injustice, drowning in the sorrow that threatened to consume me until my daughter called out and reminded me with her voice, that there was still life to live, love to share and loss would have to be endured.
As the days turned into months and the months into years, I have come to learn that grief is not something you can fight. It comes in waves of leaking eyes and hard moments when breath seems impossible to catch and hold on to. It becomes something you learn to live with, a part of you, intertwined with your very beingness and your soul’s journey.
As the years have passed, I find myself thinking back to pastures, arenas, all the horses and those special dogs, seeking solace in the memories held in the cry of a hawk or a feather found. Watching his father watch a ropin’ on TV or talk to his sister about horses and such things, is when I feel closest to him in the absence of him every day.
Our old homestead is gone now, devoured by bulldozers and caterpillars. Even the trees we planted forty years ago mowed down by giant monster rigs that piled roots pulled from the very ground they grew up in. Maybe that is why this year seems particularly strange, different, disconnected, unrooted.
I drove up to his “ranch” the other day where I could almost hear his voice and see his smile, hear the sound of his farrier’s hammer clanging on the anvil. His place was his sanctuary, his pride, his love. His place to set down roots until he was uprooted by Spirit and wisked off to the great beyond, to the other side of the veils.
Our old homestead was a place where love and loss collided, creating a space where I could be with my grief without being overwhelmed by it. Now gone, it is me left alone once again in search of that place where we can connect, chat, talk about all things wise and wonderful and where I can imagine that “big boy” hug wrapped in the muscled arms of the grown man he was, yet still a little boy in my heart and mind.
I open my eyes and look out across the yard that is my home now. I listen for the cry of the hawks; feathers elude me here. My heart grows heavy from time to time and yet is filled with a profound sense of peace when I still myself to the point of “hearing” from him, sometimes just laughter and sometime wisdom way beyond his then nearly 30 years.
I have learned to carry grief with me, to let it be a part of me without letting it define me. It is a delicate balance, one that changes with the ebb and flow of time, stories shared, and memories that surface when you least expect them… a belt buckle on a Pendleton whiskey bottle bought on his birthday during the national finals rodeo. A picture that jumps off the shelf unaided by bump or human hand, a feather found in the least expected place behind a chair at a friend’s house… strange occurrences that remind us when we need it, that when love and loss collide, love lasts eternally.
What I have also come to know, is that he is as close as a conversation, a question posed whose answer pops into my head before I have time to complete the sentence. And then there are those moments when I intentionally take the time to ask him a question and am profoundly grateful for the conversations that ensue.
I have learned firsthand that love does not end with loss; it transforms, becoming something deeper, something that transcends the physical and touches the very essence of who we are. The trickster in him that once mooned me driving out of the driveway, still occasionally turns my windshield wipers on for no apparent reason or sends a hawk to wave as it flies over or calls out a reminder that he is close, even, as my friend Jack Crimmins once wrote, “in the faraway.”
As the sun dips below the horizon, I take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the day give way to the coolness of evening. I know that the pain of losing Ryan will never go away, but I also know that it is a testament to the depth of our love for him. It is a reminder of the beautiful man who brought mischief and joy into our lives, a man who taught me that even in the midst of this greatest sorrow, love endures, that when love and loss collide, choose love and live on.
The stars begin to twinkle in the sky, each one a tiny beacon of hope and love. I smile, feeling Ryan’s presence with me, knowing that he will always be a part of us.
In this moment, I find peace, a peace that comes from knowing that love and loss, when they collide, create a bond that can never be broken, and I listen for wisdom from beyond and search for feathers on the ground.
May you always know the enduring power of love even in those moments of unbearable loss.
Many blessings…
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Vicki Dobbs is a bold and adventurous warrior walking a path of heart to manifest spirituality in everyday lives. She opens existential gateways for individuals to face their challenges and embrace these tests as the great teachers that they are.
Her goal is to see everyone walk in beauty and balance every day of their lives empowered by the voice of their own authentic truth.
Through Wisdom Evolution and Sacred Wisdom Workshops, Vicki creates opportunities for others to make deep personal changes through experiential classes, ceremony, sacred art and story. She endeavors to inspire others to create their lives intentionally. Vicki is an Inspirator of everyday awareness, an Instigator of spontaneous stories and a Connoisseur of Creativity. Gratitude and grace sprinkled with humility and humor are the medicine she brings to the world.
As an Elder, Teacher and Entrepreneur, Spiritual Coach, Ordained Minister and Crafter of Sacred Art and Tools, Vicki perceives life’s journey as an ever-upward spiraling ascension of the human spirit leading her to wisdom, wholeness and authenticity.
Her experience includes being trained in the Harner Method of Shamanic Counseling and the Pachakuti Mesa Tradition of Cross Cultural Shamanism. She is a Graduate Teacher and Mentor with the Lynn Andrews Center For Sacred Arts and Training and has been the Administrator and Writers Guide for Writing Spirit, the School.
Vicki is also an Artist of the Spirit Certified Spiritual and Energetic Life Coach, a Graduate Mentor in the AoS program and a founding member of HeatherAsh Amara’s Warrior Goddess Leadership Team and Facilitator of the Warrior Heart Practice.
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