Autumn, Memories and the Harvest of Grief

Autumn, Memories and the Harvest of Grief

Wow, where has the summer gone?

It seems like it has just flown by. In what feels like a blink, the long days, bright sunshine and open blue skies are beginning to disappear. The lazy days of camping, sitting by the lake or lounging in the backyard are slowly giving way to cooler evenings and shorter days.

As I sit camping and look out over the lake, I feel a little reluctant to say goodbye to summer. And yet, I also find myself looking forward to autumn—the radiant, almost explosive colours that appear as the leaves begin to change. Autumn is probably my favourite time of year, and yet it always seems to be accompanied by a little sense of melancholy.

I have often wondered why.

Why would I feel a sense of sadness about a season I love so much?

I think part of the answer is that autumn is a season of endings. We say goodbye to summer, wrap up the memories we have created, watch the leaves fall and feel the warmth of summer gradually disappear.

But perhaps autumn is also a season of reflection.

When Autumn Brings Back Memories

For me, autumn often brings back memories of family and, especially, memories of my mother.

My mother loved autumn for many of the same reasons I do. She loved the colours and the changing season. She used to say that when her time came, she wanted to “go out with the leaves.”

Interestingly, she did.

She died over 36 years ago, on Thanksgiving weekend.

Even after all these years, autumn can bring back memories of my childhood and of my mother. A particular colour, smell, coolness in the air or the sight of leaves falling from the trees can somehow take me back.

I wonder if this happens for many of us.

Perhaps certain seasons have a way of opening the door to memories we have tucked away. We are reminded of the beauty and joy of times gone by, but sometimes those memories also bring a sense of sadness.

And that is where grief can quietly sneak up on us.

Grief Has a Way of Sneaking Up on Us

Grief is funny that way.

We may think we have moved through a particular loss, only to have a new experience trigger an old memory. Along with the memory can come a feeling—a tear, a smile, a sense of longing or even a moment of sadness.

This doesn't mean that we are “back at square one.”

It simply means that grief and love are connected.

The seasons can remind us that life itself is a cycle. In autumn, things begin to slow down. Plants move toward dormancy, the leaves fall, and nature prepares for winter. Beneath the surface, however, something is happening. Life is preparing for renewal.

Eventually, spring will come again.

I think there is something beautiful in that seasonal cycle that can also help us understand healthy grieving.

The Harvest of Grief

Autumn is traditionally a time of harvest.

The crops are gathered. Apples, potatoes, carrots and other vegetables are brought in. Farmers harvest wheat and other grains. We gather what has grown throughout the summer and preserve what we can to carry us through the winter.

Perhaps grief can be a little like that.

Throughout our lives, we collect experiences, relationships, memories and moments that become part of who we are. When we experience a significant loss, we may need time to gather and preserve those memories.

I sometimes think of our memories as being stored in little jars on a shelf in our hearts.

Some jars we may open frequently. Others may remain untouched for years.

And that's okay.

I once read a poem—sadly, I have never been able to find it again—that compared grief to the seasons. It spoke about moving through the seasons, experiencing the tears of grief, and allowing things to become dormant during the winter before new growth appeared in spring.

That image has stayed with me.

Perhaps the tears of grief are part of our harvest.

If we have loved deeply, there may be an abundant crop of tears. Those tears aren't necessarily a sign that something is wrong. They can be a reflection of the relationship we had and the importance that person held in our lives.

Our tears can be part of a healthy grief journey.

Opening the Jars of Memories

As we move into autumn, perhaps we can give ourselves permission to remember.

Maybe this season provides an opportunity to open one or two of those jars we have carefully placed on the shelf of our hearts. We can take out a memory, hold it for a while and allow ourselves to experience whatever comes with it.

Maybe it is sadness.

Maybe it is laughter.

Maybe it is gratitude.

Maybe there are tears.

Maybe there is a little bit of all of them.

If the tears come, perhaps we can remind ourselves that they are part of our harvest. They reflect the love, relationship and experiences that mattered to us.

And the more we allow ourselves to experience our memories, the more comfortable we may become with the emotions connected to them. We don't have to keep every memory sealed away in its jar.

But there is another important part of this metaphor.

We don't have to open every jar at once.

Take Care of Yourself Along the Way

While I fully encourage you to open “the jar” from time to time, I also want to remind you to look after yourself.

We can put the lid back on, so to speak, and tuck the jar back onto the shelf. We can return to it another day when we have more energy or when we feel ready.

Grief doesn't need to be consumed all at once.

We can take it in small portions.

As autumn arrives, be gentle with yourself. Get enough rest. Eat well. Move your body. Spend time with people who make you feel supported. Try some simple breathing exercises when emotions feel overwhelming.

And perhaps, most importantly, give yourself permission to enjoy the season.

Go for a walk and kick some leaves.

Take a drive and enjoy the autumn colours.

Have a fall picnic or, weather permitting, a wiener roast with friends or family.

Sometimes, when we are grieving, we need to gently encourage ourselves to do something light, enjoyable or even a little silly.

Grief and joy can exist together.

We can miss someone deeply and still laugh.

We can shed tears and then enjoy the beauty around us.

We can remember what we have lost while also being present for what is still here.

So, as summer fades and autumn arrives, perhaps we can embrace both sides of the season—the beauty and the melancholy, the memories and the moments still being created.

And if a few tears fall along the way, perhaps that's okay too.

Maybe they are simply evidence of an abundant harvest of love.

 

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