Sneaky Grieving

Five years have passed since my mother passed away. It doesn’t feel like it has been that long for a lot of reasons. It also feels longer for many. 

I was extremely lucky to have a lot of really great support from my family and friends when my mother was sick. People who had lost loved ones were kind and offered words of comfort and support, and the human side of ‘I know what you’re going through.’

After all of the matters of her estate were completed, and tucked away, I really thought I could properly start to begin the process of grieving. The reality was far different.

Just as the sale of my mother’s townhouse was completed, the ‘corona virus’ was just starting to heavily dominate the headlines. I recall on my birthday, my first birthday without her, my friend bringing me a bouquet to tell me she was thinking of me. It was also the day that the worldwide pandemic became official, and the lives of everyone would change that day forever. 

I became part of the bigger crisis that was going on, diverting from my own internal crisis of processing the death of my mother. 

There was plenty of crisis to go around and I sunk right into it. I sent myself into a deep dark place of unknowns, and buried any real feelings, because I had a pandemic to contend with. 

Immersed in the uncertainty I didn’t feel much of anything. Or at least I thought. 

This year, more so than the four that have preceded, I have been grieving her loss more than ever. There has been grief, believe me, but this year it feels much more pronounced. The first wave always hits the week of Easter. The beauty of my mother’s passing on Holy week was just that. She had her surgery biopsy on Ash Wednesday at MGH, and died just before midnight, on Good Friday. Utterly symbolic for a woman, who’s one constant guide throughout her life was her Catholic faith. But the week she passed had other symbols. My father’s birthday, April 17th, and my grandmother’s birthday April 19th. Which was the day she died, despite her official date of death being April 20th. April 20th is also is my mother-in-law’s birthday.  

The tragedy and glory of Easter is the death of Jesus Christ and his ascension into heaven. The same I would say is true of my mother. For me, the hell is that Easter moves every year, so I am always grieving her death during Holy week and then the week of her death.  

Every Easter I work very hard to be cheerful and present in the meaning of the day, and also for my children. This year around 1pm on Easter Sunday, the grief slammed me like high tide. It had been building up. It had been a very busy week for me with events that I had been working to coordinate for a length of time. The event had gone off well, and was great. It had kept my mind busy and distant, suppressing any anticipation about Easter. We had the celebratory meal behind us. I was tired since the kids had been up since 5:30am for their baskets, and we were out of our nice clothes settling in for the rest of Sunday. And then it all crashed on top of me. And it kept crashing, for the rest of the day. Uncontrolled bouts of crying, the ugly crying, not the just struggling at the moment crying. The thoughts could not be held back any longer, and they came out in force.

My children, and Dan were supportive and also sad as well. Seeing me be so sad. The level of those emotions, ones that are about the loss itself, but are always also about much more. The pain of knowing that I was also counting down the days, anticipating this week, to relive the pain. The pain that my mother endured in her life. The pain I endured, and continue to. 

And here I am again, in the week of my mother’s passing. The dates fall the same as they did five years ago, so I think it’s all replaying in my mind more vividly. This week has been busy with camps, playdates, practices, but also some real joy. My father turned 73 this week. While we did not get to be with him to celebrate, we did get to see him via FaceTime celebrating at dinner which was lovely. I also officially became an aunt this week! My brother and sister-in-law welcomed an adorable boy named Benjamin. 

Today while I grieve, I am also reminded of my mother’s journey to develop the life she always wanted, despite years of pain. Her choice to live well for herself. She persevered. 

Reflecting, I feel fortunate that despite our relationship not being perfect, the love was always there. When the grief about things that plagued our relationship surface, I can process them. Even today, I struggle to make them make sense, but I accept that I won’t. They hurt, but I accepted them, I forgave them for us. I forgave my mom for all the hurt, long before she passed, and I made sure in her final days with us that she knew. As a child who endured a lot, she also once was a child who endured a lot. I let her know that I saw her, and I loved her. My way of giving her peace and assurance that ‘we’ were okay. That I was going to be okay. 

The credo, ‘time heals all wounds’, is one I do not subscribe to. Time itself cannot heal. Insight heals. Absence of insight perpetuates pain. Insight perpetuates perseverance through adversity in life. I love you mom. I see you mom. You persevered. We persevered. 

I have done a lot of ugly crying this week. At this point in my journey I realize it’s just part of life. The tears I held back other times , I can’t anymore.

She is ever present in our lives. Yes, I do believe my mother is with us all the time. Not just in a ‘in our hearts’ way, I do believe she is always around us. She shows up with my children all the time. My youngest, who was only 16 months old when she passed, talks about her all the time. He brings home drawings from school with her in them. All of the times the lights flicker.. I know it’s her. It’s a comfort to know she was and always will be here for me, and all of us. While I will always experience waves of grief, I know I will persevere. I know you’re with me. Love you mom. Love you Nana.  XOXOXO