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Grief: Year 2

I ended up rearranging her shelf that day. I dusted, added items like the fresh daisy and put her ashes in her owl, also set up the viewfinder full of wonderful pictures a friend sent me last year... 
Apparently September through the holidays is just going to be tough... for a while. Starting with the anniversary of my mom passing on September 26th. Less than a month after that will be her birthday. One more month makes Thanksgiving and another month makes Christmas.... and those are only the 'allotted or expected hard times' for a grieving person. I looked at pictures and videos this year the night before the 2 year anniversary. I was trying to find ones I hadn't seen to add to this blog. There are no new pictures and there won't ever be... I also rummaged through my closet to choose from the many purses she gave me to carry for this tough season ahead but even those are getting old... and I won't be getting anymore from her. I guess I thought it would be easier by now.

I will never tell someone, "give it a year." I heard that so many times and I actually feel worse a year later. And two years? I just don't understand. Grief has no timetable. Grief is immeasurable. Just because you can't 'see' someone grieving doesn't mean they aren't. I find that times I have alone (which are few and far between) tend to be the hardest but most needed. I need to be alone with my feelings. It's then when things become clear and my grief can breathe. It can unwind, relax, go crazy, go silent, just be.  I should give myself some grace but I think of the phrase 'give it a year.' Should I be better by now? I know I'm different than I used to be. I've absorbed some of the grief but I've used it to better myself and my roles in this world. On the flip side, sometimes it's held me back or led me down a dark road of feeling cynical and questioning humanity. One thing is for certain: I usually come out on top. That's my mom working for me in my corner (the corner of my mind that holds tight to her ideals, values and memories). That place is like the refrigerator door of my heart that touts our similar smiles and twinkling eyes with photos galore. Where our faces look alike and our souls are connected. A year is not enough to endure the loss of your person. It's just not.

If you fall down and suffer a severely broken arm, you might get 4-6 weeks off work with disability pay, and everybody would joyfully sign your cast. What happens when your mom dies, or your husband, or brother or child? What is the nationally accepted average time off to deal with the overwhelming feelings caused by he death of a loved one? The answer: three days! Yes, three days, for a broken heart caused by the death of a loved one, and several weeks off for a broken bone. Is it possible that our priorities are a little bit out of whack!?
~ When Children Grieve by John W. James and Russell Friedman~

Currently, I have four women in my tribe of 'motherless daughters.' All around my age. Mothers, wives, business owners, real women who still need their moms. Mothers who were all taken from them because of cancer. One of them had her heart torn out of her chest with the loss of her mom who battled lung cancer... this was so close to home, to my heart, my broken heart. I'd love to think the membership to this tribe will slow down but I know it's likely to increase over time. Connecting with these women makes me feel that I am not alone. It's reassuring but also deeply upsetting that I'm not the only one going through this. There are plenty of people grieving for other things not just people. Grieving the broken promises of a long lost marriage vow, grieving the loss of their younger/healthier/happier self, grieving the loss of a pet. All of those forms of loss leave us with a void. Something hard to part with. Those ideals, notions, people, animals that at one time defined who we were. To redefine yourself and discover your new normal is a daunting task requiring more than just time, but effort, grace, and most likely good friends, booze and some tears. Thanks to those who have provided me with such!



That is one of the only good things that have come out of this. Compassion. I need to focus on it more. I have learned to be more compassionate. To know (and not judge) that behind everybody's facade there is pain. Some more than others but there is hurt, pain, sadness and loss of some kind. If we treated people with more compassion, not excusing them for hurtful behavior, maybe that behavior wouldn't rear its ugly head as often? I need to believe in that notion or grief will consume me.
I have to find something about this tragedy that makes me better or people around me better. I am working on it, Mom. I am. Some days I'm crushing it and other days I'm resentful and worried I'll forget your laugh or how it felt to hold your hand. There are times that I just want to be showered with the unconditional love and praises a mother gives. At one time, I didn't believe her compliments and just thought she had to say nice things to me. It reminds me of the movie Wonder when Auggie asks why he's so ugly. She disagrees and he says, "You just have to say that because you're my mom." She responds," Because I'm your mother it doesn't count? Because I'm your mom it should count the most because I know you the most." I miss that the person who knows me the most isn't on this planet with me. Reassuring me, in a way only a mother couldn't, that I'm not failing motherhood, that I'm doing my best, and that I am beautiful. It meant the most from her because she knew me the most. I would do anything to hear her praises and acknowledge for how I'm living my best life, or trying to without her...



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