The Cypress Maze

by Fiona Valpy

Now I know, though, that there can still be hope. A life after a death. I know it is possible to find a way through the torturous maze of grief.

No-man’s land. A place where we can be apart together.

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

‘You gave him such a gift. Staying with him all through that final bit of his journey. Letting him go when all you wanted to do was make him stay. Even though it broke your heart, you gave him the greatest gift of all.’

‘I 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.

It’s still there, the now familiar sense of despair wrapping itself around me, refusing to give. But I realise I have to be patient. Perhaps if I can just trust that it’s there for a purpose, to help me grow stronger. Until one day I can emerge to face the world again, knowing that my grief has served its purpose and that perhaps it’s even been an important part of my survival.

How far would any of us go for love?

How far would any of us go for someone we love? The answer is, we’ll go as far as is needed.

The anger I used to feel has gone now, replaced by something calmer, something with more clarity: acceptance. I no longer feel I’m running, scared and lost, through the maze of my grief. I’m still walking through it, but now I feel I have a map to show me where I’ve been. 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.