Grieving in the Winter Cemetery

the crush of snow beneath my boots is the only sound I hear once I move past the large gate

looking up and forward is hard due to the flying snow, but not impossible

I pull my hood on tighter and let my feet guide me, I’m not sure why I need to walk here, right now, but I am listening to my body

everything is white, snow building fast on tombstones and tree limbs

my feet know the way—I just want to retreat to the silence and stillness of the cemetery

soon I’m walking forward, alone along the path

though there are footprints that tread the same way

I start to climb towards the Alley of Trees and I see a small figure headed down the hill,

we acknowledge each other with nods and glances, two women passing in this wild weather

I continue uphill, tears starting to streak out, my heart heavy, and breath staggered

I keep going because it feels cathartic, to release all of this to snow, wind, and silent graves

the energy there is kind, soft, and knowledgeable, as if used to this

done this before

The Alley of Trees is stunning in the snow, rows of large oaks and maples on each side guiding me towards the center circle

memories flood back of years past and the tears flow

my face is wet from these, and the constant snow

but no one is here to judge or to stare

it feels freeing to wail into the wind and slouch in my despair

I pause, just standing, and allow the snow to swirl around me

to absorb any sobs, with an icy hug

I continue to walk, it’s therapeutic, seeing familiar trees and mausoleums as I go

my grieving, lost heart able to find release and solace

I circle back to start on the path out, but somehow feel lighter

the tears have stopped and I’m breathing in the chill air

in awe of the surge of peace in my blood

comforted by that which is used to this, who is well aware of a hurting heart, and how slow it is to heal its tender ache