Come with me, mom

I had a wonderful morning. Relaxing. Coffee in hand. Dog next to me. Cat on the other side. Just pretty nice all around.

Then I drove to work and burst into tears.

It seems like anything that pushes me forward – without mom – when I am not yet ready, just repeats the cycle of recognizing my loss. How life, seemingly unfair, goes on without her.

But it did today and I couldn’t stop it. So how do I embrace it? How do I accept the challenge to change myself since I can’t change the situation?

Thankfully there is Maya Angelou.

Come with me, mom. I need you now.

And then I put my hand on my shoulder as if I feel hers there too. Whatever metaphysical energy source is there, I imagine it is my mom, holding my shoulder and coming with me. Being my rainbow in this otherwise cloudy day.

The Elephant in the Room

“Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards” (Soren Kierkegaard).

Grief is here. It is seen. It is felt. It lingers in the room, mentioned or not. A large grey elephant of grief. And it is different for everyone. Perhaps yours is brown or green or polka dot. Or a baby elephant that sits on your shoulders. Or a jungle of vines and trees. Whatever your grief is for you, it is present. It exists in every moment and every breath of every day.

My grief elephant appreciates being seen. It helps me to acknowledge my elephant’s existence. It helps me when others acknowledge its existence. And it helps me to talk and write about my grief. As I hear about other experiences with grief, I feel connected to centuries of people who have lost loved ones – and struggled – and survived.

My mom, Debby Susan Anderson Mosher, aka grandmamama, was kind beyond measure.

unnamed

Was. Though a seemingly small and insignificant word, it carries such a weight. Was. She was. Past tense.

So how do we move forward and understand backward at the same time?

I find myself grasping for reason, for understanding of what transpired during July 2017.

However, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves” (Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl).

July 2017 will always be a reminder of loss and love for me. But just as my elephant lingers, so does love. And so will all the other moments that came before and have yet to come.

My elephant begs to be seen and at the same time, pushes me to lean into my vulnerability and move myself forward with strength, grace, and love.

Hello elephant. I see you. I hear you. And I am beginning to appreciate that you will challenge me to change for the better.