The Cypress Maze

by Fiona Valpy

What I yearned for was space and peace, the luxury of not having to protect the people I love from the unbearable agony of losing you to that cruel illness.

A place where each room wasn’t filled with your absence, where there weren’t the constant, jolting reminders of you – or rather of the loss of you

glance back the way I’ve come, half expecting to see you there. But you’ve gone and the loneliness washes through me again.

One of them must be misreading the situation – but which?

The beginning and end of each day are when I’m able to find a few moments of peace and when your presence is strongest.

‘We always know our firsts . . . But we rarely know our lasts until it’s too late,’

understand now that grief is love that has nowhere to go.

it’s the struggle itself that gives the butterfly the strength to survive.’

I think grief is a bit like that, I tell you. You become trapped in it and no one can really help you get out. Of course, other people can support you, keep you company, perhaps even distract you sometimes. But you have to go through the struggle yourself to become strong enough to survive life after loss.

we were simply doing what seemed right, minute by minute and day by day, step by step. We’d face tomorrow when it came.

That love was lit again within your womb; By whose warmth, in the everlasting peace, Was this flower allowed to bloom. For us above, you are a noonday blaze of love,

And there below, on earth, among the mortals, You are a living spring of hope.

‘There are seasons of grief, Tess, just like there are in the garden . . . a frozen winter that it seems will never end; then a spring thaw, when hope returns, bringing with it the promise of summer. That’s when the memories return – the good ones, the ones you thought had died.’ She glances up at me, making sure I understand. ‘But there’s an autumn too. A letting go. A time when you start to forget again. I suppose without that ending there can be no new beginning. It’s nature’s way.’

I understand that I will be able to get out when the time is right. When I’m ready. But I know, too, I have to go through it. There’s no way round or over, no way to take shortcuts or avoid the path I have to walk.

Like a butterfly in a chrysalis, the struggle through my grief is a necessary part of being able to escape and leave it behind, helping me grow strong enough to spread my wings and fly again.

The nature of the universe, which is still At the centre while all the rest moves round it, Begins here from its starting point. And this heaven has no other location Than the divine mind, in which is lit up The love which turns it and the power which rains down from it.

Understanding at last that what lies in the heart of the maze of grief is, very simply, acceptance. And once we unlock that hidden chamber, there is nothing left but peace.

Talking can be painful too, sometimes, but it stops grief from sinking its roots down into the dark loneliness of silence and wrapping its tendrils around your heart.

grief is love that has nowhere to go. At last, I’m exploring new directions, finding the way, navigating the paths that will transform my grief into new love. Creating a map of my own making.