I thought the journey would be easy—just me, my mother’s ashes, and the forest she never finished.
But as I ventured deeper into the forest, I discovered something unexpected. A truth that will change my life forever.
At my mother’s funeral, I felt as if the ground had collapsed beneath me. A breeze rustled through the trees, but it was not comforting. It just reminded me of the silence she left behind.
She was my closest friend, the person I always turned to when life got the best of me. Now without her, everything was suffocatingly quiet.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Theo,” Aunt Claire said, squeezing my hand. “I know it’s hard right now, but time will heal. You’ll see.”
I could only nod, unable to speak.
Does time heal? No, time doesn’t heal. The pain just drags on, making it unbearable.
Every moment reminded me that he wasn’t coming back. What was worse was that I couldn’t have children. Without her, the thought of the future seemed meaningless.
What do I have left?
My family tried to surround me, hoping to fill the void with their voices and presence, but I couldn’t take it. They didn’t understand the deep pain inside me. Every corner of our home was haunted by her absence. Her favorite blanket still hung over the chair and her scent lingered in the air.
I stared at her old worn journal, the one she used to plan her dream trip through the woods to Crabtree Falls. She never got around to finishing it. The disease stole it from her, just as it stole it from me. I traced the edges of the journal with my fingers and felt an undeniable pull. I would complete her journey.
I couldn’t bring her back, but I could walk the path she never finished.
I told my family the next day. As expected, they didn’t understand.
“Thea, are you serious? Go to the forest alone? It’s dangerous,” my brother said with concern on his face.
“You should stay here,” Aunt Claire added quietly. “With family. You don’t have to.”
But I do. I needed to feel close to her in a way that wasn’t just memories and empty rooms.
“She wanted to finish the journey and now I will. For her.”
Their protests faded into the background as I packed my bag. I took the diary, fragile and tattered, with me. Her handwriting was on every page.
The last page was blank, waiting for me to fill it. The forest called to me, a place where I could finally face the silence she had left behind.
The forest wasn’t just a challenge—it was a struggle. Every step felt like a test and I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to endure.
“Come on, Theo,” I muttered to myself. “One step at a time. But I was weighed down by exhaustion. My feet slipped on the muddy path and I grabbed a branch to steady myself.
“Ugh! This mud!” I groaned and shook my leg out.
The cold damp seeped through my boots and chilled me to the core. My legs were heavy, my muscles were burning.
The forest stretched on forever, a maze of trees and shadows.
When I reached the river, I stopped and stared at the raging water, swollen by the rains.
“Are you kidding me?” I grunted. “How do I get over it?”
I stepped into the water and gasped.
“Cold!”
The water bit into my legs and a chill ran through my body. I focused on the other side, determined to reach it. The current was fighting against me, stronger than I expected. My feet were sliding on the stones and I struggled to keep my balance. “Don’t fall, don’t fall!” I said to myself and tightened my grip on my backpack. But then my foot got caught in something in the water.
“At least I still have you,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I stood up, muscles protesting. My legs felt like lead and the journey seemed endless.
Climbing the hill was pure torture. My foot slipped on a root and I fell hard.
“Ouch! Oh, come on!” I cried, grabbing his arm.
“None! Not now!” I was crying.
My backpack slipped from my hand and was swept away by the river. “Oh no! No, no, no!” I screamed and tried to reach for it, but it was gone.
I watched frozen as my supplies disappeared downstream.
“Big one. What nowMomm? What do I do now?”
All that was left was the urn with her ashes and her journal, tucked safely inside my jacket. I held them close to my chest as if they could somehow bring her back.
“At least I still have you,” I whispered, fighting back tears.
I rose, every step in agony. My legs were burning, but I kept going. When I slipped on another root, I collapsed.
“Mom… are you here?” I whispered, feeling too exhausted to continue.
The silence was deafening. I started to cry. The pain was overwhelming.
I remembered how I was a sick child, I had a fever and I couldn’t, and my mother was lying next to me in bed.
“Mommy, I can’t take it anymore,” I whispered.
She smiled quietly.
“Do you know why we named you Thea?”
I shook my head.
“Theo means ‘God.’ Your father and I wanted you to have a strong name, something to remind you that you are never alone. You are a gift from God. That name carries strength.”
“But I don’t feel strong,” I mumbled with tears in my eyes.
“The force is not always strong, my dear. It is the knowledge that God is with you, even in your most difficult moments. You always carry that strength inside you.”
Her words echoed in my mind as I lay in the woods, broken and lost.
“You’re stronger than you think, Theo. You are never alone.”
I opened my eyes and looked at the sky. Mom’s words gave me the strength to go on. Step by step, despite the pain. And then I saw a cabin among the trees.
“Oh, thank god,” I gasped, stumbling towards him.
My mom told me about this place. It was a sign that I could do it.
“Mom, I’m here,” I whispered, reaching for the door. “I’ll finish it. For you.”
As I entered the cabin, the cold hit me hard and I felt a familiar ache spread through my body. My head was spinning, my muscles ached and I could feel a fever coming on.
It was the same as what mom felt. She fell ill here, where the rescue team found her. And now, here I was in the same place, feeling the same weakness.
I collapsed on the floor, too weak to move, staring at the wooden ceiling.
“I can’t do this,” I mumbled. “I’m not strong enough.
The room blurred as I drifted off to sleep. In my dreams, she appeared smiling next to me.
“Mom? I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Honey, it’s time to let me go. There is no more pain.”
“I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how to go on without you.”
She gently brushed my hair away from my face, just like when I was a child.
“You can, Theo. I will always be with you, but this is your journey now. You have to go it alone.”
I wanted to hold her but I knew she was right. This was my journey on foot.
When I awoke, the morning light came through the cracks in the cabin. The pain was no longer physical. A part of me held on to her for too long and I realized that this journey is about letting go.
I got up, took the urn with her ashes,s and went outside.
“GoodbyMomom,” I whispered, scattering her ashes and letting her go.
The pines moved slowly in the morning light. I was ready to continue the journey alone.
I was out of breath by the time I reached Crabtree Falls. The waterfall thundered over the rocks, the mist swirling around me as if the place itself was welcoming me. I stood frozen for a moment, taking it all in.
“I did it,” I whispered.
Without thinking, I took off my wet clothes and walked towards the water. The cold wind kissed my skin, but I didn’t care. As I waded deeper into the icy water, I spoke out loud, “This is for you and me.”
I dove into the water and felt the shock of the cold fully embrace me. It washed over me and cleansed me of pain, fear, sadness. As I emerged from the water, something stirred inside me. The weight of grief that had weighed on me since my mother’s death lifted.
“I can go on,” I whispered.
I quickly got dressed and started to leave. Before long, a car approached and I waved at it.
The driver, a kind elderly woman, stopped and asked, “Do you need a ride?”
“Yes, please,” I replied and climbed inside.
As we drove away, I stared out the window and watched the forest blur. I was filled with a new sense of purpose—one I never expected. I knew then that I would adopt a child and give them a chance to make their own way in life.
My journey is not over. It just started.
As the car drove me away from Crabtree Falls, I realized how far I had come—not just physically, but emotionally. The journey through the forest was more than just an act of honoring my mother’s memory. It was about facing my own pain and learning to let go of what I could never control. The tears, the exhaustion, the moments of feeling lost – all these were steps towards healing, towards accepting that life must go forward, even when it seems impossible.
The forest was a place of conflict, a battlefield where I faced my grief hhead-on But it was also a place of revelation. I followed in my mother’s footsteps and found my own. Her spirit, her strength, has always been a part of me. It didn’t go away – it simply morphed and became something to guide me as I navigated the next chapters of my life.
The idea of adoption was never something I had considered before, but at that moment it felt like the most natural thing in the world. A child like my mother always wanted would give me a new meaning. I was able to give them the love and support that my mother gave me. I would create a new family, not to replace what I lost, but to honor it by continuing a legacy of love, kindness, and strength.
As the road stretched ahead, I felt lighter than I had in months. The weight of her mother’s absence never completely disappeared, but she no longer felt suffocated. Instead, it felt like a part of me—woven into the fabric of who I am. And with that understanding came a deep sense of peace. I let it go and found the courage to move forward.
The journey, in all its pain and beauty, taught me that grief doesn’t end—it evolves. And sometimes the most profound changes come when we accept that we can’t do everything on our own. Life is about connections and now I was ready to make new ones. My mother’s spirit will always be with me, but it was time for me to make my own way. I should have written the next chapter.