Time has both crawled and flown since my last post, and I’ve let much artistic work fall by the wayside. That’s alright, it’s part of the grieving process. What I think we’re all afraid of (much of the time, anyway) is sharing something we deem “imperfect”. Today marks 3 months since my mother passed, and as an experiment in allowing my thoughts to escape as they need to (and since the goal of calming creative is a safe place to share where and who we are in the moment), here is a jumble of my unedited thoughts as I get through today.
In the 3 months since losing you, I’ve been through what I thought I could imagine but never fully could. I am so angry, sad, broken, alive, missing pieces that I’ll never find, the root of my tree will grow around this pain so I’ll be whole again but a little lopsided, a little crooked, a little less sturdy yet still in one piece, somehow. You gave me everything I need to grow and live. But everything before your loss feels like a dream. I struggle to hold on to every moment I got to have with you. I realize no amount of you would ever be enough, I’d always be left wanting more. But this very specific pain of losing you before any weddings, babies, decorating a home of my own, before all the brunches and movie dates and laughter and life we were supposed to have, is breathtaking in its enormity and scale. Must I live the rest of my life without you by my side? I really have no choice? It seems wildly unfair, because I had plans and you were in them and they were my plans and I held onto them with every ounce of strength I possessed and still, still you were taken from me, from us. I was supposed to save you, though I know rationally that was an impossible task. The rule was, if I was here with you, nothing bad would happen to you. You’d be safe and we’d have all the time in the world. I close my eyes and I feel your hand in mine. Yes, perhaps now I get to take you with me wherever I go, and I will, but it will never be the same as I so wish it would be. Right now, that’s what hurts the most. There’s no fixing, there’s no silver lining. There’s only through, many places in a wilderness I do not wish to go, but here I am.