The grieving must find a way through the woods

Recently I got a surprise in the mail. A package from my dear friend Diane who lives in New York. It was a book! We've known each other a long time, since we went to college together. She thought I'd be interested in this memoir. I certainly was.

It's a very special story about a young woman from Malaysia who went to Norway as a university exchange student. She met a wonderful Norwegian man, fell in love and married him. They had a happy and blissful marriage until he died suddenly at the age of 54. She was devastated.

Years later in 2017, she published this memoir - "The Way Through the Woods" by Long Litt Woon - in Norwegian, then in English in 2019. It's really two interdependent and parallel stories. Half the book is about mushrooming (in detail), nature and her journey to becoming a mushroom expert. And half is about her journey and experience coping with the sudden death of her beloved husband, Eiolf.

The two stories are (mostly) organized in alternate chapters, so if one doesn't want too much on the intricate knowledge of mushrooms, one can start by reading the chapters about the death of her husband and her journey in what she calls "the landscape of mourning."

The author finds great solace in nature and being out in the forest. There are other people in the forest looking for mushrooms but at some distance from each other - so she feels safe and not entirely alone out there.

I identified with many aspects of the story. I identified with her tragic and sudden loss, of course, and with her love of nature. My dear Baheej loved and appreciated nature and I do, too. Sometimes I just stand looking out the window at a sunset or sunrise as Baheej would often do, thinking how Baheej would love this view.

We spent lots of time in nature. One of the items that attracted us to our house was the old, huge silver maple in the front yard. I also understand her journey in coping with grief. She's still on it and so am I. It's a long journey, probably a lifetime for me and many others.

Along the way, Woon includes little side stories about some of the emotions and experiences many of us have in grief. For instance, her husband was cheerful and nice to everyone. He extended himself to people and was remembered fondly by many clients and people in his everyday life. She was comforted by many people who spoke to her about how he's missed.

This happened to me a lot. For several years after Baheej's death, all kinds of people told me they miss Baheej and his kind and friendly ways - the dry cleaner, the clerk at the grocery store, the servers in local restaurants, the barista at Starbucks. He was sincerely interested in other people and always brought cheer with him.

Woon also wrote about "the traces we leave behind," how the quality of relationships with family and friends and all the people we meet contribute to what traces we leave. It builds little by little as we live our daily lives.

This is so true about my own dear Baheej. He touched so many people, including his former students here and in Massachusetts. I have heard from many over the years telling me how much Baheej helped them and influenced their lives.

She explains how hard it was to begin saying "I" instead of "we" - something many of us have gone through.

Woon described a certain emotion I had never found words for. When you lose someone very close who has known you most of your life, you lose the main "witness to your life." I think this is a fundamental part of long-term grief. It's a very big loss when you lose the one who knows you best.

The book is beautifully written. Importantly, it gives us a vivid description of one way to help manage and cope with grief. When done, you may know more about mushrooms than you ever wanted to know, but that's OK. Discovering a new career or passionate interest in something became an intricate part of her "way through the woods."

The point is: Woon found interest and comfort in nature and her studies, and this enabled her to "find meaning," a new path in life without her dear husband. This is actually what we all must try to do in grief.

Even though the grief may never go away, as with Woon, we still need meaning to sustain ourselves for the years ahead. We need to be able to dedicate ourselves to something fulfilling and useful - to our family, our friends, a cause, a special interest.

We can learn a lot about how to cope with grief from others. This is one good, uplifting example.

• Susan Anderson-Khleif of Sleepy Hollow has a doctorate in family sociology from Harvard, taught at Wellesley College and is a retired Motorola executive. Contact her at sakhleif@comcast.net or see her blog longtermgrief.tumblr.com. See previous columns at www.dailyherald.com/topics/Anderson-Kleif-Susan.