Four months and four days. That's how long it's been since I last talked to my mom. I've always had an annoying thing with dates and, try as I might to forget that anything of significance occurred on this day, the 24th of each month sends me a message of reminder. As if I needed one.
This being my first intensely personal run with grief, I've been taken aback by a lot of aspects. I didn't expect the roller coaster of emotions. Perhaps I assumed that I would just be consistently and constantly sad, but I've been surprised by the fact that there have been moments where I have felt more true joy than ever. Then I've been surprised by the wave of guilt that will sometimes follow, as if that joy meant that I wasn't grieving "enough". Thankfully, I know enough to talk myself down from such crazy places, but the effort becomes exhausting.
In the midst of my sadness I am humbled to think of the grace and kindness that I have been surrounded by. My husband. He doesn't know how to tread these waters any better than I, but he's here. My children, whom I am certain have felt my mental absence from time to time, are nothing but compassion and understanding. My dad and siblings who are free with their own grief and also with their laughter. My friends who have reminded me of so much good truth that I've filled 3x5 cards and journals and stuck them all over the place so that I can be brought back when my heart begins to wander. I've seen God's love for me more clearly in these past four months than ever before.
In a way it seems too soon to say that I'm a different person since mom's death, but even though I don't fully understand all of the implications I know that it's true. In the middle of all of the sadness, I can't help but re-evaluate everything from my relationships, to how we educate our children, to where we should live; right down to what I want to do with this blog space. The last regular post that I made was on the day that mom and dad arrived at our house to stay for the week of my birthday. The photos that are next in line to be blogged are those from that week. My last birthday with my mom. It's too soon for me to go back there and write about that week, but one day I hope to be able to. My all-or-nothing self had decided to just give up blogging until I was able to pick up from where I left off and continue on, but after receiving the same wise counsel from a couple of very smart friends (who didn't laugh at me for not thinking of it myself), I've decided to just start fresh. From right now. I'm not going to feel guilty about the missed birthday letters, or the un-blogged Christmas. I'll go back. One day.
I do still want to preserve the memories of these precious days for Jimmy and me and for our kids. They matter more to be than they ever have before. I still want to record more of the funny, delightful, precious memories than the nitty-gritty hard stuff, because it's the nitty-gritty hard stuff that tries to occupy my mind the most. My mind needs more "delightful". I want to be honest about our days so that we can remember with awe the Grace that carries us through.
I've been tempted to try to conform myself into my mom in a lot of ways, since so much of how she lived was so good, but the Lord is good to remind me that I am myself and that is enough. I can live and love in the ways that he has laid out for me and that I don't have to try to fill up those big places that mom left empty when she died. There is one way, however, that I am like mom. She was a memory maker and a documenter. She loved this space and these stories, and while I don't really know what it's going to look like going forward, I want to continue to record these wild and wonderful memories that can't help but be made in a life as blessed as mine. As I've found myself saying, through tears, so many times in these past months... Mom would have loved this.
This being my first intensely personal run with grief, I've been taken aback by a lot of aspects. I didn't expect the roller coaster of emotions. Perhaps I assumed that I would just be consistently and constantly sad, but I've been surprised by the fact that there have been moments where I have felt more true joy than ever. Then I've been surprised by the wave of guilt that will sometimes follow, as if that joy meant that I wasn't grieving "enough". Thankfully, I know enough to talk myself down from such crazy places, but the effort becomes exhausting.
In the midst of my sadness I am humbled to think of the grace and kindness that I have been surrounded by. My husband. He doesn't know how to tread these waters any better than I, but he's here. My children, whom I am certain have felt my mental absence from time to time, are nothing but compassion and understanding. My dad and siblings who are free with their own grief and also with their laughter. My friends who have reminded me of so much good truth that I've filled 3x5 cards and journals and stuck them all over the place so that I can be brought back when my heart begins to wander. I've seen God's love for me more clearly in these past four months than ever before.
In a way it seems too soon to say that I'm a different person since mom's death, but even though I don't fully understand all of the implications I know that it's true. In the middle of all of the sadness, I can't help but re-evaluate everything from my relationships, to how we educate our children, to where we should live; right down to what I want to do with this blog space. The last regular post that I made was on the day that mom and dad arrived at our house to stay for the week of my birthday. The photos that are next in line to be blogged are those from that week. My last birthday with my mom. It's too soon for me to go back there and write about that week, but one day I hope to be able to. My all-or-nothing self had decided to just give up blogging until I was able to pick up from where I left off and continue on, but after receiving the same wise counsel from a couple of very smart friends (who didn't laugh at me for not thinking of it myself), I've decided to just start fresh. From right now. I'm not going to feel guilty about the missed birthday letters, or the un-blogged Christmas. I'll go back. One day.
I do still want to preserve the memories of these precious days for Jimmy and me and for our kids. They matter more to be than they ever have before. I still want to record more of the funny, delightful, precious memories than the nitty-gritty hard stuff, because it's the nitty-gritty hard stuff that tries to occupy my mind the most. My mind needs more "delightful". I want to be honest about our days so that we can remember with awe the Grace that carries us through.
I've been tempted to try to conform myself into my mom in a lot of ways, since so much of how she lived was so good, but the Lord is good to remind me that I am myself and that is enough. I can live and love in the ways that he has laid out for me and that I don't have to try to fill up those big places that mom left empty when she died. There is one way, however, that I am like mom. She was a memory maker and a documenter. She loved this space and these stories, and while I don't really know what it's going to look like going forward, I want to continue to record these wild and wonderful memories that can't help but be made in a life as blessed as mine. As I've found myself saying, through tears, so many times in these past months... Mom would have loved this.