Love, Loss and Leaving Notes at the Labyrinth

Love, Loss and Leaving Notes at the Labyrinth

Love and Loss

It had been months – over six months, to be precise – that I had been able to visit my sacred space – the labyrinth that I shared with Sarah, just about a week before she passed away.

For the past six or seven months, I have been recovering from a serious lower back/hip injury. I truly believe it was a manifestation of the grief and trauma surrounding her death, and other major significant losses.

Trauma recovery is not an easy journey. Yet, as I start feeling better – physically, spiritually and emotionally – I am appreciating learning about myself. What makes me tick, how I respond to things, where trauma is stored and so much more. I am learning modalities to assist with uncomfortable feelings, and I have had the opportunity to share “Emotional Sobriety” in workshops I have facilitated.

One of the coolest things about trauma recovery is the reconnection with the body. What different sensations mean; how they can help protect or even share what is needed. Because I have had to be very mindful of movement to prevent re-injury, I listen to my body and am in tune with my needs. That mindfulness is seeping into my spiritual and emotional needs, too.

On the emotional level, I am able to connect sensations in my body andLove and Loss correlate the emotion attached to it. So even if I don’t know why I am feeling a certain way, I know that I am feeling something. I’ve learned that feeling and learning about emotions can be compared to peeling an onion – just as one layer comes off, the next layer is saying something. And, like an onion, some feelings are so strong, they make you cry.

Spiritually, I have had my eyes open to so many new things and ideas that I could probably write a book. The most amazing thing is that as the fog of grief and trauma lighten, the beauty of the outdoors can truly brighten. Colors are more vivid, and I am more aware of nature and all the critters that visit me in the yard – a place of sanctuary for me, especially since I have been isolated to due lack of mobility.

Love and Loss








As I am finally able to walk better and sit in the car a bit longer, a very dear friend took me to the labyrinth last week. As excited as I was to return, I was nervous, too. This sacred space is where I connect with Sarah the most. Would I be overcome with grief? Could I make it around the labyrinth? Would the car ride be too much?

As we entered the labyrinth, I showed my friend the journal entry from November 24, 2019, when Sarah and I visited. I shared that I regretted not having Sarah sign her name. And as I shared other journal entries, giggling as to how many times I’ve been to “my” sacred space, a journal entry under one of mine literally knocked me for a loop, bringing tears to my eyes.

On December 3, 2020 – the one-year anniversary of Sarah’s transition – someone left this note:

Love and Loss

I believe I know who left this note, someone who was an amazing support at the beginning of my journey. Tears filling in my eyes, I was feeling so much love and on such a deep, spiritual level. After savoring the feelings in my body and soul, allowing the tears – a mixture of grief and joy – we continued on into the labyrinth. Though I had to use my walker, I was thrilled that I was able to get to the center of the labyrinth – the last place I was able to give Sarah a hug and a kiss on her forehead.

Anyone who new Sarah well, knew that she was an avid collector of many things – rocks included. She loved painting them and leaving them for others to find. On our desks, her Papa and I have the rocks she painted for us.

Love and Loss

More aware of my surroundings now, as I got closer to the center of the labyrinth, my eyes filled with tears again. In the center – where many people leave a note or other items – there was a pile of rocks.

Oh, Sarah! I felt like she left these for me.

Love and Loss

I left the labyrinth with more joy in my heart than I have felt in a very long time. I was with a dear, dear friend who has supported me in ways I will never be able to thank her for; I was left a dear, dear note from someone instrumental in my healing – someone who remembered Sarah! (A major fear anyone dealing with child loss is, will this child be remembered?) And I found a dear, dear message in the center of the labyrinth – I felt like it was from Sarah.

Love, Loss and
Sculpture by Celeste Roberge

As I have mentioned before, I am removing the weight of grief, one rock at a time. It isn’t easy. It isn’t pretty. The hole in my heart from Sarah’s loss is huge. However, when there are moments of joy and connection – I can fill that hole with love and support on a spiritual and emotional level. I can physically feel the shift. In fact, I have been able to walk short distances unassisted since my visit to the labyrinth.

And it inspires me to be more mindful and keep walking – even though the journey of recovery can be very slow, often times very painful, baby steps.

Namaste and much love,

Love and Loss




© Lynne Cobb – 2021



8 Replies to “Love, Loss and Leaving Notes at the Labyrinth”

  1. Lynne, I have loved your writing for years. I truly admire your openess and honesty with all your life events. I find great wisdom and comfort at times in what your write. Never forget that although most of us may not see you often, you and your family are thought of, prayed for and most of all loved ❤

  2. Thank you for writing this. Today it helped me to remember recovery is a slow process and always look up to our Lord and He will always carry you and never let you fall! Open your eyes till the moment!❤️

  3. Lynne,
    So beautifully said. I pictured your analogy of peeling the onion and totally agree. It’s great to hear that you were able to visit the labyrinth and see the rocks that I am sure Sarah placed there. It’s amazing how God helps us find some relief when we truly need it. I know you have a lot of supporters, including Darlinda and I. Lean on us when you need to. We are here to help.

  4. Lynne, I always find your writing so touching and inspiring. I like how you compare learning about yourself and your emotions to peeling an onion. I’ve heard the term “mindfulness” used a lot and I think you’ve described it in a way that I find easy to relate to.
    I’m so glad to hear you’re noticing physical improvement since your visit to the labyrinth. Though the pain from losing Sarah will always be there, little by little you’ll find joy in little things that will pull you through. By the way, your photos are beautiful.

    Your journaling workshops sound interesting! I may want to find out more about them.

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