I’m 34 years old and lost my mom in a tragic accident when I was 14. Then my dad died of a sudden heart attack when I was 31. I hardly have any memories of my mom left, and by the time my dad died, we’d hadn’t spoken in 4 years.

I have been having mysterious health issues and the specialists are trying to figure out the issue. When I met my Rheumatologist for the first time, he spent an hour going over my intake form with me meticulously line-by-line. When he got to the family history list, he saw that both of my parents were deceased.

“Both of your parents have died. Am I reading that correctly?” I clinically confirmed, “Yes. My mom was killed in a car accident and my dad died from a sudden, unexpected heart attack.” I think he was waiting for me to have some emotion, but it never came.

His young eyebrows pinned together, puzzled by my lack of outward emotion and said, “Wow. That must be really difficult. I can’t imagine not having my parents or family.” I light-heartedly agreed and signaled to move on. I knew if he kept probing I might lose it.

When my parents died, I found it hard to speak to people about it. I hated breaking down in tears and becoming inaudible. It is the thing that makes me feel the weakest. So I would turn to the trees. I’d go on long walks, alone at night, and cry/scream at the sky or simply talk about my day…things I would call my parents about. It was pitiful, but healing.

I had huge trees all around my neighborhood. They towered over me at night like a blanket. After big storms, some of my favorites would be the victims of high winds and lightning. I would tear up for a couple of days when I passed them. It was hard for me to accept, but I got used to it.

Unlike humans, grieving for a tree is relatively quick and painless. I miss it, but I know that something else will fill its place. It’s a space of opportunity. I saw a man use a chainsaw to create a chair out of the left over trunk. I saw multiple people create natural flower pots out of the stumps. One person inserted his flag pole in it. And a lot of people left them alone and new growth would come.

Isn’t that just like life? Losing people is HARD. They took a piece of my soul with them. I wasn’t whole anymore and it takes time to rebuild. I can’t throw dirt in it and plant beautiful flowers. I have to give myself grace and grieve what I had, what I lost, and what I’ll never get.

As of today, I don’t think I want to have children. They won’t have grandparents and I won’t have a mom to call in the middle of the night when I’m panicked or broken. I won’t get to see my dad teaching them everything and anything that has to do with the woods. There will be no vacations or Christmas’ with my family of origin.

My heart is still tender. It was a huge milestone when I lost both of my parents. It’s like I’m lost and floating at sea all alone. No one holds my past. It’s been erased. I have no one to flex that muscle with, so it atrophied and died. I must exist in the present moment only. I have no past to bring into it.

When I lost my vantage point of where I came from, life became scarier. Who could I depend on if I got sick/unemployed/something catastrophic? No one. My heart has been so hardened by their deaths, that it’s nearly impossible for me to depend on anyone.

Just like the trees.

Whatever trauma trees go through, it shows. They will always have the bump and inner rings of where a limb was. They will show cracks and bark skinning. It will shape them forever. They can scar just as easily as we can. It does take time for them to heal and they never quit going. They instinctually know to grow where the light leads them.

At the end of the day, that’s all I can try to do too.