One of my mom's best friends read this at her memorial and I was filled with such fulfillment that someone else thought this of my mom too. If I were to guess, the two of us are not alone. I only wish my mom knew this quote as something that reminded people of her. It seems to be the case these days that things that make me happy about her also make me sad. This is a new feeling to some extent. Now, I'm filled with ambivalence as I grieve.
Last night before bed, Allison said, "I miss CaliGram." I said, "me too. Sometimes when I miss her it makes me sad and other times it makes me happy." She said, "the holidays just won't be the same without her. Like Halloween. I'm not going to get an awesome package with stickers and books from CaliGram." She has not overheard me saying those things. Those sentiments ring with such truth. If felt joy that she felt like that but also the deep sting of loss and finality. I couldn't agree with her more. My mom was the ultimate celebrator and has obviously passed that trait onto both of us. Allison has grown accustomed to getting mail of all kinds from her CaliGram. Before Allison was born, I was still getting Easter baskets, Valentine's Day goodies, and St. Patrick's day gear. This wasn't about buying stuff; it was her way of celebrating life, showing you that she was thinking about you, and also keeping things fun. One of my greatest weaknesses lies in how hard it is for me to be serious. Some things are meant to be sad and tragic and that is the only way I feel when I look at this that I found in Allison's journal...
She told me she had written about CaliGram in her journal, but it was stuff I already knew. That was true I already knew the fact she shared here. This is what I know and believe from reading When Children Grieve: "The basic information upon which children rely to deal with loss is communicated very early in life. That information, right or wrong, tends to become the default setting that they will return to in response to all subsequent losses." Children learn their grieving strategies from their parents. I would say so far, that I take one day at a time. I allow myself to cry but also don't feel guilty if her spirit comes through me and gives me jolts of hope. When I can, I openly talk about my mom and share my experience to many because I know that it will surely become a part of who I am going forward.
I keep coming back to some of sentiments I shared at my cousin Jeff's memorial that resonate with how I feel now about my mom. "How much [s]he will be missed cannot be calculated by the number of teardrops shed because to measure something it has to be tangible." I also went on to say that we cannot compare our closeness because we all close to him [her]. I finished with a quote that has helped me and a lot of my family over time: "Strength does not reside in never having been broken but in the courage to grow in the broken places." While I'm not quite ready for that I know that some good stuff will flourish in those cracks in due time. Right now, I'm still looking at my fragmented foundation wondering how I'm still standing.
My mom experienced loss in her life often and felt broken at times. The loss of marriage promises twice, her dear parents, her beloved nephew, and the hopes and dreams that cancer slowly chiseled away three separate times. Although she was strong, each loss wore away her luster over time, but she left this world with a iridescent glow that I hadn't seen in her face in years. After she took her last breaths, her wrinkles softened, her cheeks filled with a heavenly bronze and her mouth closed into a smile. Her skin was soft and supple like that of a goddess. I couldn't stop thinking how that she hadn't looked this beautiful to me, ever. She was angelic and clearly prepared for her journey away from loss, pain and suffering.
And when one of us is gone,
And one of us is left to carry on,
Then remembering will have to do,
Our memories alone will get us through
Think about the days of me and you,
Of you and me against the world.
"Me and You Against the World"- Helen Reddy
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