09 Aug Stepping out of life…

The healing power of nature

June 2023

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog and have to admit to feeling a little apprehensive. Stepping out of life seems to have partially shut down my brain. Maybe it’s my heart trying to protect my head or the other way round!

Until we became bereaved parents I had no idea the loss of a child is a forever pain. That broken hearts never heal. That we would hold on to memories as though our very lives depended on them and permanently exist in survival mode.

Our youngest son, Ben, was twenty five when he died from cardiac arrest almost five years ago. The shock of losing him is still raw, the pain still constant and our hearts still silently scream in agony. He is never more than a thought away and I absolutely hate that missing him is starting to feel normal.

I’ve just finished reading a book by Kristin Harmal who describes it perfectly,

‘Motherhood never ceases, even through loss and pain. To carry a child in your heart is to belong to that child forever’.

– Kirstin Harmel ‘The Road Home’

Part one…

Blissfully relaxing under the shade of olive trees in the beautiful Croatian sun listening to a cacophony of extremely noisy cicadas, feeling like I’ve been transported into another world.

My husband, Paul, and I are nine weeks into a twelve week trip around Europe in our camper van – something we had been talking about and planning for about a year.

Paul had already retired and I was able to take a three month career break from work. This precious gift of time is a blessing we don’t treat lightly. Our weary souls (worn down by grief) were craving rest, desperate to step outside the trappings of routine and rekindle some of the joy we used to have for living.

We hoped that travel, adventure, discovery and the beauty of nature would somehow distract us from the gaping hole in our lives. Grief is exhausting and we were tired of trying to hide our pain. Tired of living under a constant weight of sadness. Losing your child affects everything and we saw this as an opportunity to recharge our batteries, to rethink life, to realign priorities and maybe even find a little respite for our broken hurting hearts.

Leaving home on 24th April 2023 (Ben’s 30th birthday) was hugely significant. Ben loved adventures and in a symbolic way this was our gift to him. It felt like we were taking him with us!

Inspired by his passion, we wanted to explore the world he loved, visit new places, meet new people, let grief mingle subtly into our adventure.

But there is no escaping the indescribable ache that is always there. Pain and trauma etched into the very fibre of our beings – like invisible tattoos on our hearts. We love our darling boy as much as ever, yet love that was once so simple and unassuming, is now entwined with sorrow and so many deep unfulfilled longings – to hear his voice, touch him, hug him, celebrate his big milestones with him.

It’s not possible to recapture the easy happiness we once took for granted but removing ourselves from the everyday reminders is helping. This incredible gift of time has forced us to slow down; to think more clearly; to breathe more easily; to be more thankful for each other and what we still have and to be less debilitated by the destructive agony of grief.

And most importantly to find hope in the midst of pain – ‘to find a peace that passes all understanding…’ Philippians 4:7

As one of our boys pointed out – Ben would want us to miss him but he wouldn’t want his death to destroy us. He loved us too much for that and we love him too much to let it happen.

It’s difficult to explain but in stepping away we embraced a new and simpler way of living – walking, cycling, swimming, reading. We have less expectations – we’re more relaxed – more calm. We take each day as it comes. We talk more. I’m less anxious; less agitated. I haven’t been waking up in a panic. The test will be if we can maintain all this on our return home.

I’ve been reading a book by John Eldridge about ‘restoring your weary soul’. He writes that it’s the aftermath of trauma rather than the trauma itself that destroys us. How, so many of us – for so many reasons – push and push to survive until one day we have nothing left. We’re done with trying to be strong. Trying to cope. Trying to swim against the tide and feeling like we’re getting nowhere.

Maybe this trip is helping us become unstuck. The hole in our world is still there – always will be, but I’m hoping to return home recharged; better able to function; more positive: more energised; less broken.

Eleven weeks in…

One week until we arrive back in UK. We’re currently parked up in the Mosel Valley in Germany, one of the most peaceful tranquil places we’ve visited yet I can feel anxiety starting to bubble up inside. I could burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Stabs of panic make me catch my breath – especially at night. The reality of stepping back is feeling heavy and cumbersome.

I’m fighting a swirling current of sadness that’s trying to pull me down. Grief is so unpredictable; so hard to understand especially as Ben is missing from our lives wherever we are.

Home is a poignant reminder of a normal we can never recreate and it’s making me agitated. Home is where Ben’s friends are moving on with their lives, doing all the things he would love to be doing. It’s where we see our friends celebrating those big life events with their complete families. It’s a longing for the life we expected to be living and it’s where we feel an unspoken expectation that we should be over it by now.

So even though I’m looking forward to seeing our beautiful family – I’m actually scared of going home. Anonymity is like a comfort blanket that cushions us from reality. Nomadic life is an escape; coming out of hiding is surprisingly difficult. I’m worried that stepping back will simply undo all the good.

Part two…

Our little box on wheels has been the most amazing home for the last three months. We’ve absolutely loved living in a van – the simplicity of life on the road, planning our adventure from one day to the next – has been everything we hoped for. We’ve made so many awesome memories and been to so many incredibly beautiful places.

Highlights were meandering down through France visiting fascinating towns, lakes and mountains. Exploring the Italian cites of Pisa, Lucca and Florence. Wandering through magical little streets and alleys in Split, Korcula and Dubrovnik in Croatia. Relaxing beside beautiful beaches, visiting islands and waterfalls, caves in Slovenia, mountains in Austria, memorial war sites in Germany and Belgium… I could go on and on. It was simply awesome!

We included Ben in everything – left ‘one moment’ stickers in special places, got a Ben tattoo in Chamonix, drank his favourite mojito drinks and listened to his favourite songs. He was with us as much as he could be.

But within days of coming home it felt like we hadn’t been away. Settling back hasn’t been easy – for me anyway – home holds so many memories and fear has crept in. I’m afraid of what lies ahead, afraid of not having anything to look forward to, afraid of living like this forever, afraid of falling into a dark pit of depression.

I guess it’s inevitable there would be an anticlimax – an emptiness because it’s all over. We’ve been looking forward to this trip for so long. So although I feel reenergised and the benefit of three months rest, the feelings of calm seem to have have disappeared.

Seeing family again has been precious. I missed them so much. But whilst away, denial set in and I missed ALL our children. Home is reality. Ben isn’t here – will never be here again – one of them is missing – Ben died. Those words are still unreal. Shocking!

Grief that seemed lighter when we were traveling has reverted to being heavy and uncomfortable. It’s like I’m having to learn how to carry it all over again. I’m even back to restless agitated sleepless nights.

“I can hear your absence in my soul, loud and luminous, sometimes it’s a hushed echo, lingering low and lurking loose but it never fades, it takes a break but it never breaks away.”

-Väzaki Nada

So I’ve discovered that grief hurts more at home because we get bogged down by the inevitable routines and stresses of life and there are so many painful reminders.

But being away has taught me there is healing in nature and the outdoors. The key must be to consciously try and build in time to recharge our batteries wherever we are – it just requires a bit more effort. We shouldn’t have to travel around Europe to find it!

Stepping away from life brought a calmness that is undoubtedly good for our souls.

⁃ It helped our hearts and minds cope with anxiety and stress.

⁃ It didn’t take our sadness away but it became easier to live with.

⁃ The simple uncomplicated togetherness of life on the road energised us.

⁃ The beauty of nature empowered us.

The pain never went but it was definitely softer and more manageable – ‘a hushed echo’ rather than ‘loud and luminous!’

Life will never be good like it once was but maybe it can be a different kind of good. We still have so much to be thankful for. I reminded myself of what I wrote earlier,

‘Ben would want us to miss him but he wouldn’t want his death to destroy us. He loved us too much for that and we love him too much to let it happen.’

Finally I was curious to see if there was any evidence to support how this trip had made such a difference to our mental health, so did a little research and came up with this:

Ray Mears (TV presenter and survival instructor) says…

‘Getting face-to-face with the scale of the natural world can be comforting because "nature puts things into perspective." While this perspective won't end our grief, it might help us manage it.’

https://www.mariecurie.org.uk/talkabout/articles/nature-and-grief/366915

Postscript…

We’ve been home for three weeks now and I’m a little disillusioned by how easily we’ve slipped back into old ways. I have to admit I’m struggling! Neither of us are sleeping well. It’s rained almost every day since our return, so getting out and about requires a lot more effort. Longer dog walks, being with friends and family, and getting away in the van at weekends is helping but it’s surprising how quickly we can fall back into a dark place.

I accept that sorrow and sadness are with us forever, that we’re not going to get over the loss of our beautiful boy – but we’re both determined to try and hold on to the hope and peace we found on the road; to not let ourselves become defined and defeated by grief. It’s slow progress but we will do it…

for Ben! 💛

So my simple prayer is…

I’ve had some requests for an audio version so you can listen to a (very amateurish) recording here:

CREDIT: Ruth McDonald 2023

A few more interesting facts…

Research supports the healing power of nature. A 2022 study published in the International Journal of Mental Health and Addiction determined that nature therapy is an effective short-term treatment for mental health conditions, most notably anxiety. Participants experienced positive results after spending just 15 minutes outside for 9 days. Researchers credit the efficacy of this treatment to the idea that being in nature allows the body to decrease its stress levels.

“When you have a short blast of nature exposure, people’s moods go up,” says Ming Kuo, an environment and behavior scientist at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. A possibility is that the air near moving water, forests and mountains contains high levels of negative ions, which are thought to potentially reduce depression symptoms, according to a study in Frontiers in Psychology.

https://www.mariecurie.org.uk/talkabout/articles/nature-and-grief/366915