It’s hard for people who haven’t experienced a personal loss to really understand the magnitude of deep sorrow. How the process of bereavement extends far beyond those first few shocking days. It takes a long time to sort through this jumbled mess of emotions because reality begins to resonate in a way that is unbearable at times.
When I stepped outside of the hospital just hours after my father died, I remember how incredibly beautiful the evening was. It was unusually balmy for September and the sun had just begun to set. The breeze was warm and soothing and people were walking and talking and eating ice cream sandwiches. It felt shocking and perhaps unfair and even a bit unresolved that the world was still going on without this person I loved so much. Without this person I still really, really needed. I remember feeling like this world was missing a really important piece. A really significant contribution. One of light and laughter and beauty.
It was the power of community, the very love of my own family that allowed things to eventually be okay.
Just okay.
But it took a really long time for that healing to unfold. It took a really long time for that emptiness to subside and be replaced with gratitude. With appreciation for what I was able to experience as a result of being my fathers’ daughter.
That evening, after we embraced and left the hospital hand-in-hand as a family, I remember looking at my mother who was filled with a deep and unwavering sorrow and I wondered how she would cope. And over the years, I have been continually surprised by her steadfast strength and her ability to survive heartache and anguish and sorrow that at times, must have felt suffocating. I celebrate her in my heart everyday for her courage and strength and purpose. For being a brilliant role model. A true confidant. A really amazing mother.
It’s hard to remember that Mother's Day can be a really painful reminder of what you don’t have. Or can’t have. Or won’t have ever again. A partner to share your life with. A child to hold. A parent to love.
And so on this Mother’s Day, I will remember my friend who lost her sister and her mother, who lost a child. I will hold space for my loved ones who have experienced the deep and devastating loss of miscarriage and for those afflicted with the anguish of losing a parent. For the mother's who have sacrificed and surrendered and forfeited absolutely everything without complaint or protest.
I hold each of you in my heart.
xo
