Mother’s Day again. The 8th Mother’s Day since my mother passed; and the first since my father’s death which is significant, too. Being an orphan on Mother’s Day, yet not a mother.
Here’s a truth:
Everyone -- even mothers -- needs to be mothered.
No one is exempt from this need.
And in this there is good news: we are always being held by our Mother, whether we are standing, walking, or sleeping; whether we are aware of it or not. Whether we rest into her, or not.
I've been wallowing in my grief and depression for a while. Perhaps even marinating in it.
As a first phase in processing The Hard Stuff, wallowing is actually pretty good. Although marinating in your discontent gets a bad rap, from my experience and perspective, it is perfectly acceptable to do just this when you are grieving or otherwise experiencing a Shitty Circumstance.
So, yes, wallowing is good. Until one day, it isn't.
*** This post is part of a weekly series prompted by the new Next Chapter Book Club featuring the Happy Book. Each Friday Jamie will be asking us what makes us happy, and anyone can participate! *** Death might seem a peculiar subject for a Happy Friday post, but the event expressed here is the event which divides my life into Before and After. I am a different person than I was before, changed in many deeply positive ways. I think it is that change that makes it possible for me to experience happiness in the now.
Six years ago today, on an altogether different Friday morning, I received word that my mother had passed away. My family and I were all aware that she was nearing the end, yet in our denial had hoped we could each get through our Fridays and gather later to be with her. So while it was not a surprise, it was a shock. It was a door that closed that would never re-open, and no amount of knowing beforehand changes the finality of that door slam. And then I was surprised by the immediate softening, as I sat there holding the phone in my hands, and looking around a busy graphics department on deadline day. Suddenly knowing the pain I had convinced myself I had already felt and grieved, and knowing it to be new. It was the realization that I was living still, breathing and speaking in a world in which my mother was no more. A strange grace followed that moment within minutes. I went from total shock to relief to feeling blessed by my mother. I felt her sudden return to wholeness. I felt held and lifted out of any regrets I had toward the times when I did not handle my mother or her illness well. Although the grace of that early peace has faded, the gifts of that grace were a complete and total healing of my relationship with my mother. I knew in those moments that she now had access to the bigger picture, and as such she knew where I was coming from when I made mistakes. There was forgiveness. I also felt that her awareness of her own earthly fallibility, and that I am not expected to hold her up as a saint, which is something we often do when our loved ones pass on.
