Today I was witness to my son’s grief. He bore deep empathy, not just for the pain of ducklings that were run over but for the mother’s confusion and loss-such a testament to the beautiful man he is growing to be and the kind of heart he carries with him.
This was not just a tragedy, it was a ceremony of feeling. My son didn’t turn away, he felt fully and fiercely today. I met him in his grief without dismissal, acknowledging his feelings and giving space for sacred ritual. We climbed the hill to the top of the waterfall today and asked Boodjar to care for the ducklings in a sacred act of relational healing. It gave shape to the grief and a place for it to go. Ancestral wisdom in motion.
Even though the grief lingered, the land held us both. The hills, the water, the quiet presence of boodjar—they offered a soft place to rest the ache. That moment of letting go, even just a little, was a kind of release. Not forgetting, but integrating. My son is extraordinary in reflecting and embracing learning. The waterfall was healing, if just a little.
Geowalkabout 
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