Woman nearing sixty, and still trying to get it right. Stumbling the path toward the Divine. Discussing things like grandchildren, Waldorf education, dogs, aging parents, empty-nesting, and knitting luscious things once in awhile.
Today I'm headed to Albuquerque for my job. It's been a busy time with work. So many hours devoted to my job. I'm looking forward to exploring New Mexico with my little nanny guy. I watched this amazing video on Upworthy today that filled me with anticipation for the airport, the people, the eyes, the smiles, and then landing in the glory of the high desert. It should be beautiful.
Life After Death is as good a title as any for my post. But there's nothing mystical nor mysterious about my feelings these days. Bottom line, I'm grieving. I'm missing my parents and my grandparents and my aunts and uncles. A whole couple of generations are gone and I'm feeling it so profoundly since the death of my Mom.
On the surface all is well. But I have only truly grieved twice like this before in my life: when my best high school friend died in Jonestown (I lived in deep depression for a year until my Mom looked me in the eye while standing in line in Luckys supermarket and said, "Marianne, it's been a year. You've got to shake yourself out of this. You have children who need you.") and when my father died. And even then, while I missed my dad terribly, I still had my mom. And her grief was more fragile and she needed me. I was side-tracked.
I am so grateful these days for those friends and family who continue to gently seek me out. Those who are staying close and checking in on me. Those who know me well enough to know that while I am a loner which I know can be frustrating, this is very different and I am in silent pain. Those who are loving me unconditionally without expectation. The voicemails, emails, cards. Even if I don't respond they just keep showing up gently with their love. I celebrate these people in my grateful heart often during my day every single day. I am going through a grieving process and their consistent offerings help beyond measure.
I'm not in a depression nor suicidal, or anything dramatic like that. I am just grieving. Deeply. I cry and I talk out loud to the ethers. This grief. I bring it up and out. I study it. I hold it. I allow it. I even cherish it because when talking out loud like a wild woman I am so close to my holy host of others in the spirit world. And all that comes to the surface comes from a place so deep and rich and full of goodness that it is a welcomed sweet release. It breaks me right open. But from that crack seeps unfathomable gratitude for the beauty of the world. These days I often find myself brimming with tears as I drive down the road and notice just how beautiful the world looks. And lifting those tears and pushing them down my cheeks is a happiness that I cannot describe. So many thank yous to a life event that pushed me to this brink. Grief has its positive side.
The other day I was sitting at the sewing machine working on Christmas gifts and I was listening to holiday music. Yes, I was. Yes, this early. But only when I'm working with my hands creating gifts. :) I know I broke my own rule No Holiday Music Until After All of the November Birthdays. Alex's being the last one falling right on Thanksgiving Day this year. But I cheated and I was happy. I live alone and no one had to know. But to look at me you would have thought anything but happy. I did not look happy. I looked sad and actually quite raving mad. Sitting in my pajamas all day, greasy hair in a ponytail, at the machine, Christmas music filling the air along with my old-time chatter to my mom who was always my crafting buddy. Until her shaking hands no longer allowed it. Crying, talking, snotting all over.
I'm not quite sure how this season, my favorite of favorites is going to pan out this year. As a family we're talking about giving in some way to the world. And we're talking about a trip to Disneyland in the days before Christmas. I don't know what I want. This year, I'm just along for the ride. Big Mama Sargent is pulling up the rear of this march.
...and I find myself, on the heels of my Mom's death, deep in introspection. Writing like crazy but writing nothing that feels as free as a blog post. Little bits of this working internally that I realized this morning I wanted to share here though.
After my Mom's passing, immediately after, all the grief and strife that lived between us just evaporated *poof* into the ethers with her last breath. It was amazing to me that all the hurt of the ages that transpired between mother and daughter (that most beautiful yet most raw of all relations) was gone in a heartbeat. A breath. And it was an indication to me that where we come from and where we return to is pure love. All that is left here is love.
Now it's a month later, the shock of her death as an elixer to ease pain has lifted, and it's still all gone. Forever gone that grief we grappled with. She and I. And here in the middle of it all (our lives on earth) is where we practice that love. Here on earth in the middle of each and every breath is where we come to know and practice that we are truly all a most beautiful tapestry of one.