Dear Mom (10 Years Later)

 Dear Mom,

Today marks ten years since you passed. One way I can tell where I truly am in my grief stage is whether I’m able to talk about you without getting emotional and teary. The first few years after your death, that was a given … it was rare that I could talk about you without crying. Of course, the level of emotion depended on where I was and who I was talking to but my voice tended to crack at some point. As the years went on, it got easier, but the crack in my voice and the tears in my eyes still came … sometimes when I least expected it. When I was at church earlier today requesting prayers for those of us still mourning your death, it happened again. 

As I’ve done more research on grief, I’ve come to realize there are two ways to look at this. One, there are probably still some things I need to work out that are connected to you. Though I’ve processed a lot these past ten years, there are also some things I’ve avoided. Maybe addressing those will help me “let go” of whatever I’m holding on to and really “move on.”

The other way I look at this – this grief will always be with me. The intensity will ebb and flow with time and whatever else is going on in my life. But I’ll always have this underlying sadness of knowing I have to continue this life without your physical presence. Knowing that I’ll have to rely on my memories of your smile and laughter and picture those moments as I imagine you watching all of our milestones from above. Knowing that your grandchildren and the later generations may never know you as well as those who got more time with you. 

This grief has made its home in me these past ten years. I’ve allowed it to take up space and become part of my “furniture.” Like the physical clutter in my home, I’ve grown accustomed to it just being there. Sometimes I address it and try to make it tidy, but most days I ignore it and work around it. It’s become a part of me. In a way, I’ve come to accept that. I wouldn’t know how to move on and do anything else in my life if I didn’t.

Is this a “healthy” way to deal with my grief? I don’t know. It’s gotten me this far and I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. I’ve still been able to experience joy despite my grief always being there. I think it’s helped me have a deeper appreciation for all the times I’m able to forget, even for a second, that my cluttered pile of grief is in the corner waiting for me to look at it again. And I am grateful for that ray of light in my darkness.

I know there are still things for me to work on, but I’m also ok continuing to live with this grief and letting that cluttered pile shrink or grow as needed. Thanks, Mom, for continuing to be my ray of light whenever I need it. Miss you and love you always. 🌥😇

Now I address this part to others who may be reading this:

I acknowledge that I am not alone in grieving my mom’s death. In an effort to try something new in my process of “letting go” and maybe helping others in their process too, I’d like to ask anyone who knew my mom to please share your memories of her in whatever way works best for you. You can email me stories and/or pictures. You can post on my social media accounts. You can even arrange to speak with me over the phone or on video chat and share your thoughts with me that way. As my own memories of her start to fade, I’d like to start archiving what I remember now and I think getting stories from others will help encourage and motivate me to spend time on this.

I hope to have a book-sized collection to share with the grandkids and future generations to keep her memory alive. I’d appreciate anyone who can help me in this effort.

For those who didn’t know my mom but who are also experiencing grief over the loss of a loved one, I invite you to share your own thoughts on this subject in whatever way you feel comfortable. I’d love to provide that outlet for you to share. Hearing others’ stories has helped me too. 💗