One month

It often catches me unaware. An unsettled feeling in my heart and an anxious grip in my belly that blooms into the thought, “She’s Gone.” Some days it hits me often, a hundred darts of loss that I can’t dodge. On others, it’s not until my day is winding down, doing the dishes, the laundry, almost always at the time when I would call her to check in, share notes on the day and catch up on the gossip.



One of the drawbacks of having your mom as your best friend is that there is no best friend to commiserate the loss of mom. I’m lonely not just for my mom, but for my friend as well. I want to tell her how much it hurts. How sometimes I forget, and how that makes me feel even worse. Ask her if this is how she felt when her mom died, because we never saw her grieve. Tell her how well Colin is doing in his new class, and that he misses her hugs. I want to ask her how she likes my new haircut, a little lighter for the summer. I want to tell her what a special man Rob is, and the depth of his support through all of this. And roll my eyes with her about the dumb argument we had. Share my worries about what I’m going to do next for work. The idea I have for a new blog. To hear her say she knows I can do anything, and that she doesn’t worry about me.


I let the tears come when they come, to feel the hurt and to help my heart heal. And even though my friends say I’m doing okay through this, I’m worried the tears aren’t coming enough, that I’m not letting the grief do what it needs to do. Because everyone says it will come out no matter what. I’m afraid that something is going to fall apart in a way I can’t even imagine. Do you ever watch shows about hoarding? Notice that a large percentage of them start after their mother died. I make sure my Goodwill pile is well-stocked!

I've been listening to the music we all picked out to play at Mom's Celebration but that we never got around to putting on the speakers. It's been interesting to hear the different choices that we made, and think about the reasons behind the songs.


My meditation practice is my lifeboat. A time I give myself (sometimes force myself) each day to center, and then to expand into spaces greater than myself. A reminder that there is light and healing in the universe if we are open to receiving it.