“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.” ~ Washington Irving
Each month, I steady myself to make the long journey to Sun Peaks. Through merciless weather, winding roads, endless vistas of nothingness… I embrace it all. I am energy in motion, not content to stay where I don’t quite belong anymore. Not wholly anyways.
I’m unapologetic.
My most singular task, it seems, is to find Ryan. It is my sacred obligation to that precious baby boy I gave breath to, loved without restrictions and made a solemn vow to protect and care for.
But just as important I need to hold space for my son.
What am I, but a blank page to capture his life in memories? An empty notebook that seeks to find the missing lyric that completes Ryan’s song and in doing so allow the world to hear his music.
The wind, gusty and cool, as it swirls and shifts the leaves lying beneath the tall trees. Wildflowers sway under the lazy sun seeking its warmth so they may bloom once again. The creek winds to and fro as it patiently waits for the spring runoff so that it may grow majestic and fierce. Animals stir, scurrying beneath the forest floor.
All signs of another spring. Another season. It seems so incredible that nature does not quicken its pace and yet will accomplish all that it needs to, given enough time.
It waits… standing in memoriam to a young man lost.
I wait along with it. Drawing strength where I must to withstand the grief that accompanies me.
Within these town limits, I can lay claim to the happiness that Ryan felt being here. I look to the mountain ranges and feel his presence amongst them.
I gather every memory. I savour every feeling. I breathe in the air feeling it fill my chest, knowing that this all must sustain me until the next time.
I hid my tears as we drive down the hill.