The mountain was there. I was simply too afraid to step on it. Too afraid of its climb and what the other side would mean.
The mountain’s name was grief.
It appeared out of nowhere the day my mother died. It stood in the way of everything. It hid my future, and each thing to come. It was so large and intimidating. I desperately tried to ignore it and under no circumstances did I dare to step, to journey, up and over. I knew it was a feat I wouldn’t win. It was a conquest I was neither prepared for, nor willing to begin.
So it stood there, that mountain, blocking my future, blocking my life. And I let it.
I let it paralyze me.
I let that mountain win.
I was too afraid to climb. Too afraid to journey, especially into a life that was void of my mother’s earthy presence and love. Too heartbroken and frightened by that mountain called grief.
Until one day when I found myself looking at that mountain, no longer quite as scary. No longer an unachievable climb.
A mountain still called grief, but looking different than before.
It seemed smaller. It seemed to have lost some of its power and its torment. It seemed to be illuminated more than ever and had a trail carved specifically for me. An invitation of sorts, more welcoming than before. As if it were begging me to step— to walk, to go, to rise.
So I did.
I finally stepped on that mountain, the one I was so afraid of, the one called grief.
I climbed and I journeyed.
It wasn’t easy. But it was worth it. For the other side not only held my life and all the purpose and beauty that remained, but also, it held my mother’s legacy. It held her remembrance and her influence.
I waited so long to climb that mountain called grief that I delayed getting to what the other side held. This new side wasn’t void of my mother, but rather a new piece, a cherished gift, of how she’ll remain. How our relationship will continue, different than before, but still meaningful. How she’ll continue to live.
She lives through me, her daughter.
And her legacy and influence will be endless because I finally had the courage to step, to climb, to journey on that mountain called grief.
Your mountain is waiting and so is your mother’s legacy.
A wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is a sappy romantic, coffee junkie, book collector, and person who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s sarcastic, full of jokes, full of tears, and enjoys writing most when life gets messy or complicated. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. Through her grief journey, she decided to take her mother’s advice and share her writing with the world. One day she gained the courage to honor her mother's wishes and write. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she's ever made.