One year and 21 days after my mom died, I find myself in a new form of grief.
Life continues. The world keeps spinning. The universe keeps spreading stardust and energy in all directions.
And I keep working. I keep parenting. I keep moving and eating and sleeping.
There are days that go by and I don’t think of her. And then a day comes that I do – and with this day comes a shame, a sense of guilt that I have come to this place where I don’t think of her everyday.
And then I feel another layer of loss. A grief that grieves the raw, intense feelings of loss because then it was impossible to forget her – to feel it so strongly that she was always with me in my unmistakable feeling of grief.
It is almost as if it would be easier to have raw grief. People understand this. They know it is new and awful to have lost such a loved one. But as time passes it seems to lose its potency. People don’t know whether or not to bring it up. They can’t see tears in your eyes and therefore you are alright, right?
This is my grief now. It is not intense. But it is not gone either. It is here in every sigh and breath. It is here in my working and parenting. It is here. She is here and in some sort of stardust and energy, she is always here.
So I pause and honor this moment that she is in my thoughts. Smile at her passing through. Sense a hug on my shoulders. And keep on living with kindness and love.