A Sliver of Sunlight

A gaping maw stood just before her, opened wide, waiting for someone to enter. Several towering elms formed a leafy entrance, their spindly branches stretching across, forming the archway into the forest beyond, beckoning her inside. The sky was somber and grey, leaving her with misgivings about going in. Clutching the small vessel to her chest, she considered turning back. A strong breeze, however, pushed forcefully from behind, propelling her hair forward and unconsciously causing her to step forward. He would want me to do this, she thought to herself. Tentatively, she stepped forward, beneath the elm entryway, allowing the forest to swallow her whole.1

The forest seemed to envelope her inside. There was a calm, peacefulness all around. It was quiet save for the cacophony of various bird calls and the rustlings of critters. The fauna was quite dense, she was grateful for the well trodden path she could take. She lifted her face up toward the sky, the view was blocked. The tangle of branches and leaves, from the thick multitude of trees, formed a canopy above, blotting out the sky.2

There was a feeling of familiarity that was still with her, even if it had been over a year since she had walked this path. Everything about the forest she had learned from him. He had had a keen fascination with trees and plants. His face would always become animated with a childlike excitement and he’d talk to her for hours about the forest foliage. Even now, she could still remember everything.3

Walking along, she could point out the massive white oaks with their fat trunks and whitish bark. Or the skyscraping cedars that seemed to go on forever, uninterrupted, to the sky. There were also the firs and pines scattered about the woods that gave off a rich, almost overpowering, scent she loved so much. Looking down around her sneaker clad feet, the forest floor was littered with broken branches, leaves and rocks. Along the sides of the path, vibrant green lady ferns sprouted in circular patterns, their long leaves dipping into the pathway. Carpet moss, with its green-gold hues, made its home across rock faces and tree bark. Reaching a hand out to a maple, dotted with white fungus growth, she ran a hand across the moss that felt velvety under her fingertips.4

So many memories bubbled to the surface in this forest. Everywhere she looked, she could see his smiling face. At the base of a birch tree, she noticed a cluster of milkcap mushrooms, with their orange-brown coloring and bowl-like caps. She could almost see him, kneeling down amongst them, explaining how they were edible. Up ahead, a beech tree stood, its branches stretching in all directions taking up as much space as possible, as if trying to show just how magnificent it was. One branch in particular jutted out across the path. She could still see him swing himself onto the branch to sit.5

She moved on, and kept walking till she found the perfect spot, an area just off the path. A bubbling brook ran through the break in the trees nearby, making whooshing noises as the water ran over the rocks. Cypress trees grew with their awkwardly bent and contorted branches. Moss spilled across the forest floor here, making a soft blanket ideal to sit on. There were larger breaks in the trees that allowed for more light to come through.6

It was here she could recall the day they had sat down and ate a picnic lunch. The day before that amazing man, her husband, died in a car accident. With him all her hopes and dreams of having children and growing old together died too. She could still taste his final kiss on her lips and recall the scent of his cologne. Tears came unbidden, slipping down her cheeks, as she looked down at the vessel still clutched in her hands. This was all she had left of him, it had been over a year and she still hadn’t parted with this piece of him. He would have never wanted her to keep them this long; he would have wanted her to move on long ago.7

The wind picked up and bit at her harshly, tugging at her clothes. It was telling her to do it now. She could almost hear his voice in the wind, urging her on. She opened the lid with trembling hands. The nearby branches swayed insistently, as if waving her on. She gently tipped the vessel to the side and the wind picked up the ashes in its invisible arms and swept it away in swirling clouds. She had expected to feel empty, instead she felt relief. The wind changed directions and seemed to push her back to the entrance; he did not want her to linger here. She walked back the way she came, heart feeling content with the knowledge that he was at rest. Each bird chirp or rustling leaf felt like her husband applauding what she had finally done. As she left the forest behind she saw the sun peek out from behind the clouds. It felt like one of her husband’s hugs, the warmth seemed comforting and reassuring. It was his way of letting her know that she had done what she needed to do, and that now it was time to move forward, and move on.8