Living a long life brings many benefits and joys. I cannot identify anyone’s aging pleasures beyond my own, but my sister-in-law, Kathie, sums it up well. “I wake up in the morning, I realize I’ve been given another day, I’m happy.”

Aging can also bring a fair number of challenges, including health issues, money concerns, family scattered all over the place. One of the biggest trials is the experience of loss. Living long will most likely include the sad reality of losing a family loved one or dear friend.

Navigating the death of someone close is a daunting journey for the psyche, and for many folks the holidays can be the most difficult time. The other side of the coin is that loss can also take us in the direction of personal growth.

This holiday season, I hope my story of loss and subsequent spontaneous involvement with nature lifts some spirits and, perhaps, presents new growing possibilities.

I’m not a medical person, not a member of the clergy, nor an expert on bereavement; I’m simply a mom who lost a child and in the ensuing grief received a gift. In this time of giving, I pass it along.

In the early morning hours, my 23-year-old daughter died. Daylight came as if life was still normal and I’d hear the coffee pot grumbling, hear her buttering crisp, brown toast.

I stepped onto my deck, still slippery with dew. The air felt heavy, like a lead cape shrouding my shoulders. The pulsing, functioning, enduring core of who I used to be was hollow. My body a shell, my mind stripped of all ego, I was empty.

Suddenly, without warning, there was a palpable hush. No robins sang. No barks from distant hounds echoed through the early buds.The frogs in the pond were still. It was a silence unlike any I had ever witnessed. A dry, muted breeze stroked my cheeks.Tears evaporated from my face. And in the quiet, color became as vibrant and loud as if a part of me.

The orange of a dazzling morning sun peeking through towering pines gelled with purple lilac sweeping me in. And I was separate from familiar earth, yet more connected than I had ever been.

From deep within, my being merged as one with verdant trees and coral sky, tawny brown dirt, and gray pebbles glistening beneath pond ripples. The new forsythia blooms blinded with brilliant yellow, and I was every color, every red flower, every pink bud, every green blade of grass. It was a vivid, brilliant silence holding my scattered pieces together.

The raw brush with the natural world offered a glimmer of peace. I felt less alone. In the company of emerald trees, crimson and yellow flowers, soft white clouds, and rosy sky my soul was welcomed home, soothed and caressed in familiar, loving arms. It was a lifeline that my intellect and body embraced. It was an extraordinary encounter.

I forged ahead in the direction of recovery. Remembering my spiritual chance meeting with the environment always brought a sweet tranquility as well as a niggling unrest.What was I going to do with this wonderful offering?

With nature’s touch enhancing a daughter’s memory, I held myself accountable for creating a worthwhile existence as a tribute to her eternal spirit. Over time, I was gently guided to generate writing that would add to the life and health of the community.

I’m certain I won’t live long enough to get it all, but I have a solid belief. There is a wiser, stronger greatness. It idles in neutral in the soul waiting with compassion and patience for recognition.

Every person will define individual encounters with nature for themselves.You can call it a Higher Power, a spectacular force, a sign, God. For me it was a healing touch, a loving gift, a message, reinforcement of continued life. It was a magnificent quiet.

From Coast Salish Chief Dan George, “The beauty of the trees, the softness of the air, the fragrance of the grass speaks to me. And my heart soars.”

Good holiday spirits from this old girl.