Sitting on my lanai... pondering...

I feel consumed with sadness today. Do you ever wake up and just feel sad?

I let myself cry, although I have no idea why.

My heart is heavy yet hopeful.

I feel alone. Maybe that's me shielding myself.

Funny how we tend to regret the time we didn't spend with our loved one after they are gone. I did my best to balance my life so I could spend quality time with Mom. The weekend before she died, I chose to spend with my grandchildren. While I don't regret that, I regret not squeezing in a 30 minute visit. She had Covid, so I wasn't allowed to bring in the children, but I could have gone as her essential family. I regret that. Though I was by her side the last 3 days of her life.... I wished I had stepped in to see her that weekend. I will always carry that.

I have this routine of counting my blessings during my quiet mornings... and especially when I am feeling overwhelmed and/or highly stressed. It helps me to remember and refocus on all the positives in my life. My Mother was like that. When it rained, she smiled through it and grabbed an umbrella!

I’ve been blogging since before my Mother passed away to help me sort through the complex feelings of mourning even before she died.  While I was preparing for her inevitable death months before; it did not prepare me for the grief I would feel.  The magnitude of losing her has been incredibly painful and while journaling is my outlet; I wanted to share this journey with anyone who may feel some sense of grief or mourning and identify with my words.  I’m migrating over to Tumblr but also keeping this blog alive for my family.

I felt you

Good morning, mom…

In the still of the morning, my mind starts to plot out my day.  What I’m doing, where I’m going, what I need to do.  Another weekend of adulting.  This morning, I’m thinking about Christmas and who’s left to gift. And as I am naming those I want to purchase a gift for, I tick off your name.  Instantly, I stop and the full flood of grief washes over me and I am lost in the memory of you.  Lost in my sadness that you are not here. Lost in this world without my Mother. For the first time, I feel you.  I felt you sitting next to me.  Felt the warmth of you against me. I felt you!  It’s been 7 weeks since you passed away, and today I felt you.  

I wonder what changed. Was it you or me?  Maybe I wasn’t ready for the feeling before now or perhaps I was not open to it.  I’ve carried so much guilt, as you know, about your death.  Surrounding my memories are the guilt of not coming that weekend.  Of spending time with my grandchildren and not trying to strategically wrap in a quick visit.  You were in such a bad condition mentally and then with Covid, I didn’t want the kids around, but I could have carved out time to see you; and didn’t. That guilt. I know you were wondering and wishing I was there.  I know you needed me and I knew then you needed me most every day… but I can’t change what was and I can only focus on what is.  What I can do every day to remember you.  What I can do now to prepare my children for the future version of what I am surely going to be.  But for some glorious reason, I felt you today.  I didn’t feel so alone.  

I think I will pick out a special ornament for my tree that every year as I place it with care, it will symbolize the incredible woman you were.  I want you apart of my symbolism of giving and love this holiday season. This year will be very difficult for me, but just like Thanksgiving, if I am surrounded by John, the children, the grands, and our friends, I will laugh and be filled with love and think of you in loving ways.  

This feeling is inexplicable, Mom.  I understand now why you mourned your mother’s passing every year and celebrated her birthday… no matter how many years she had been gone.  I get why you would still cry over here death.  I get it now.  It really does feel like a part of me is missing.  I feel this sort of emptiness in my soul or spirit.  We were so incredibly close as a Mother/Daughter; as close friends; and in the past 5 years as Daughter/Mother.  I love that we had that full circle kind of love for one another.  I love you and miss you.

Until Tomorrow…

Your daughter

Letting out the Grief

Good Morning, Mom…

It’s been a long time since I sat down to write you.  Head in the sand, kind of thing. So much going on and I feel like I’ve got my eyes on the ground just making sure I put one step in front of the other – not seeing what’s around me; not thinking about you.  But you are everywhere.  Everything makes me think of you.

Then literally people are calling me about you.  I got a call from Halifax Hospice asking me how you were doing.  I was insulted and outraged they didn’t know!  That was such a punch in the gut.  Then I got a call from the case manager reviewing your fall which I wasn’t able to take and will be calling her this morning. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about you, it just reminds me that you aren’t here.

It’s just all been so challenging, Mom, and I am trying to not show it.  Trying to be tough like you. Trying to be happy.  I know its spilling over.  I know I’m not really doing a good job.  It’s all coming to the surface.  Maybe it’s because I haven’t been writing to you and getting it all out. Probably is the case.  I need to let out the grief and not hold it inside me.  I know you wouldn’t want that.

I miss you more than I let myself feel these days.  I miss being in your presence and hope you are smiling and laughing and dancing the jig today and every day.

I love you Mom.

Your Daughter

My Mom was a worrier. I watched as she continuously fretted over what *may* be. In her latter years, she fretted less and less and focused on what was in front of her. She was much happier. I try to remember this as I sometimes worry about tomorrow... I remember that this moment is all I have... And take back my today.

I've had difficult, happy, sad, and celebratory times all in the past few months. I'm beyond blessed to have friends who walk with me through it all.

Beautiful and bountiful life begins with family.