Footprints In The Snow
Taken By: Kaitlyn Layman @casperphotography23
About a month ago, my grandma lost her best furry friend. Her name was Coco.
Last week, the kids and I visited her house after a fresh snowfall. My son already knew Coco had passed, and when I talked with him about it, he simply asked, “Are the angels taking care of her, Mommy?” Tears filled my eyes as he continued, asking if they were holding her and which angel was taking care of her in particular.
Since that day, we have been back to her house a few times. My daughter often wanders into the room where Coco used to sleep. There is a photo in a frame, and she always makes sure to give it many kisses.
As we stood together looking out the window, my grandma’s eyes began to tear up. She softly said, “I have never seen my backyard so perfectly covered in snow. I woke up still looking for her paw prints.” Before I could let a tear fall down my own face, my son spoke up and said, “We can make footprints in the snow.”
Almost immediately after her words, that was his response. We can make footprints in the snow. As adults, we wouldn’t think to respond to grief that way, yet to him, she was not missing the pain itself; she was missing the footprints, and he found a way to give them back.
He put on his coat and boots and ran outside. He got down on his hands and knees and began pawing at the snow just like Coco would have, creating his own paw prints. He then asked my grandma if she wanted to join him. Before I knew it, they were both out there, not crying over Coco, but laughing, remembering her, and finding joy in her memory.
It made me think about how, when the light in our lives dims, we are often left wondering how to find it again. When we lose the people we love, when plans change, when mistakes are made, and when truths are revealed, how can we make our own footprints in the snow? How can we begin to bring the light back into our lives when things do not go the way we hoped?
Are we sometimes missing a solution simply because our hearts are closed? If we change our perspective, is there a way to recreate the footprints? Is there a way to honor the memory of what once was while still moving forward? And even when people are still alive but have deeply hurt us, can we find a way to remember them fondly, can we at the very least thank God for the wisdom gained during their time in our lives? And not even just thank God, but wholeheartedly be filled with gratitude that we were able to experience, grow, and learn from what has been put on our path, even when thinking those thoughts can sometimes feel impossible when the grief takes over every part of our bodies.
Something to ponder today, and something I have been thinking about a lot lately.
What is something in your life where you could make your own footprints? For me, it is loneliness. It is the emptiness that tries to settle in after the kids are asleep, the laundry is folded, the dishes are clean, and the work is done. When there is nothing left to do but be still. Sometimes, stillness is the hardest thing to face. Slowing down in the chaos can feel harder than staying busy, especially for me. But there is a quiet, uncomfortable, unique kind of beauty found within the moments of empty stillness. The moments you realize that you actually love lying down in your cold sheets with plenty of room to move using 5 unnecessary pillows, the moment you realize you can listen to music or watch a movie that only you enjoy, or go to bed at 7 pm just because you feel like it.
You may never be able to replace what was once there, whether it was a person, a feeling, or a comfort that is no longer available. But you can find ways to slowly bring the light back. For me, it’s this blog, it’s finding myself again, and learning to find peace in the quiet. Is it still lonely sometimes? Of course. But I am learning to bring the light back slowly, one blanket, one book, one smile, one laugh, one post, one self-embrace, and one footprint at a time. 🤍
Thank you for being here,
Kaitlyn
