Sitting in grief...

I haven't been here in a while. I've had other means of getting my words out lately. Some by talking out loud about mom. Some by talking to her on the long walks I take in the morning since I'm training again for the Cancer Research UK Half Marathon walk in September.

But, this facebook status turned into a long ol' blog post, so here it is.

Today I read my friend, Maria's post on "sitting in her grief" after losing Jacob. It's a beautiful post, and one worth reading if you would like. http://momentswithjacob.blogspot.com/2016/07/sit-in-grief.html?spref=fb

It reminded me of earlier today when I was up in our guest room looking for a head band that mom would wear. With this new too short for me hairdo, I need something to put my hair back with and remembered she had one to cover her cold bald head that she didn't wear very often.

Mom didn't die in our guest room, she lived in there. She always called it her bedroom. I sometimes catch myself telling Steve or Abbey to put something or get something in "Mom's room". I admit it's hard for me to go up there often. When I do go in there it's usually to quickly change linens, or put something away. I don't tend to sit and allow myself to feel the heaviness of her absence.

On the 4th of July, Angie, Addie and I sat in there and talked about her and lined up all her marbles. It was nice but, no tears were shed. It was just the 3 of us missing her. Remembering being with her last 4th of July. And that was one of the longest times I've spent up there in a long while.

Today, when I went up to find this headband, I opened her closet. This closet has her things in it. Her crafting and quilting and books. Things I haven't been ready to go through yet. I quickly found the headband and I sat down on the bed. The last time it was touched it was by her. The tears came quickly and I was able to just sit in my grief.

I started pulling her things out of the closet. The book about her she didn't want to fill out with us, except for the things about her childhood. Some of the crafting things she did with the kids for the holidays. The newspaper with her obituary in it. Cards and letters given to me at her memorial that I don't even remember reading. I sat on the bed she never got to sleep in, on the beautiful cover she would have loved but never will be comforted by, and cried. I know I am not alone in missing her. But in that moment it sure felt like no one could miss her more than I do.

Max was resting in his bed room watching Batman so I turned his monitor on and stepped out to the garden. It was this time last year that the garden got out of control with weeds and dead flowers. I was certain nothing would come back this spring, but it all did. I so wanted it to be different this year, but again the weeds are all over the place. I've never minded pulling weeds. It's one of the most immediately gratifying chores. It's just I rarely have the time to do it.

As I pulled the weeds and the hiccups from crying started slowing, I thought about this idea of "sitting in grief" and thought there was a very fine line for me of feeling the feels and wallowing in sadness. I've read before that we can sometimes get stuck in the grief because it's the last thing we have to hold on to our loved one who passed away. And I want to remember so much more about her than just this immediate sadness.

I got through the flower beds and stood back at the cleaner looking beds. They still aren't perfect. I probably could be back there for hours before it looked like I wanted. But, that's all it is...a work in progress. Just like learning to live without mom.

I came back inside to check up on Max and went back upstairs to close up the room. I put the things back in the closet and looked inside one more bag. It had her shoes in it. I put the shoes in front of me and slipped them on. Still too big. I don't think I'll ever fill them.