Sometimes life delivers a blow so profound, it shatters your heart into a thousand pieces. When Baylee passed away, I felt those shards cut deep, leaving a wound that touches every part of my being. My mind feels foggy, like I'm trapped in a storm with no end in sight. My heart is heavy, aching for her presence, and I find myself struggling to do anything but dwell in the pain. This overwhelming sorrow is a constant, sharp reminder that life without her will never feel quite the same.
In my darkest moments, I ran—away from the noise, the sympathy, and even from my thoughts. I ran straight into the embrace of nature, camera in hand. Wildlife photography became my escape, a place where I could simply be without expectations. Out there, surrounded by nothing but the stillness of trees and the gentle flutter of wings, I found a space where I could cry freely, where every shutter click felt like a small release of pent-up grief.
Capturing the beauty of the world without Baylee by my side is a new, bittersweet experience. It’s a silent acknowledgment that she’s no longer with me on these walks. The absence is loud, echoing through every footstep I take. But in the same breath, nature offers a kind of comfort—subtle, gentle, and patient. Wildlife photography gives me a reason to get out of bed, to keep moving, even when all I want to do is curl up and shut out the world.
As I wandered along the path, lost in thought while processing my feelings about Bay, I came across a group of curious ducks. I paused to photograph them, watching as they waddled about, simply living their lives. The question kept repeating in my mind: What’s the point? What’s the point? But as I observed them more closely, I realized that even these ordinary ducks were works of art in their own right. Their vibrant colors, unique personalities, and the intricate texture of their feathers held a simple yet profound beauty.
As I moved on, I noticed something on a log. A duck! And a friend!
There’s something charming about the sight of a duck perched on a log alongside its unlikely companion, a turtle. These two creatures, though very different, find common ground—literally—when they both decide to bask in the sun. While turtles use sunlight to regulate their body temperature and maintain their shell health, ducks take the opportunity to dry their feathers and warm up. Despite their differences, ducks and turtles share a peaceful coexistence in these shared spaces, making scenes like this both endearing and symbolic. The balance they demonstrate on that simple log, shifting ever so slightly as they adjust themselves, is a reminder of how diverse species can harmonize in nature.
The past few days haven’t healed the ache, but they’ve given me moments of reprieve. Walking with my camera without Baylee is an adjustment I’m still getting used to, and it’s going to take time. I’ve realized that it’s okay to let this adjustment happen slowly, to allow myself to grieve in my own way. For now, it’s enough to just be out there, to feel the fresh air on my face and listen to the soft rustling of leaves, finding peace in the small moments of connection with the world around me.
The path ahead is uncertain, and the pain is still raw and I'm not ready to write more about her, but I know that nature will continue to be my refuge.
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