Today is Easter Sunday. The second one without my mom.
Easter used to be something I celebrated. Having grown up attending a Catholic church, we did it all. Everything from Ash Wednesday, to Palm Sunday, to finally the big day of Easter. The celebration, the services, the music. And of course, the baskets filled with chocolate bunnies and eggs, nestled among the translucent strands of green plastic grass. And the dinner. Oh, Easter dinner was probably my favorite ever.
My mom would make the most delicious lamb, complete with all the spring time vegetables as sides, fantastic mint jelly, and a pineapple upside down cake for dessert. Easily my favorite holiday meal (with Christmas a darn close second).
As I grew older, Easter slowly transformed into less church visits and more just gathering around the meal. Then, once moving away it changed to a care package from my mom, still filled with the green grass and chocolate bunnies.
This year, Easter was just another day. I worked on various work and personal projects, my husband ran errands and relaxed, it was really just another day.
Although this is the second time to pass this holiday without my mom, it really feels like the first. It wasn't until recently I'm finally starting to feel like I'm emerging from the haze I've been fighting through the past year.
The past year has brought a laundry list of losses. My mom, a great aunt and uncle, a cousin, a number of friends, our beloved dog, Alayna, and most recently, my husband's job. It just. Kept. Coming. When I thought we'd reached the breaking point, life proved it had other plans.
I'll openly admit, it has taken a toll. Depression and anxiety reared their ugly heads within me. Thankfully yoga, work, wine, and an understanding husband, has made it a little easier to handle, but man, 2018/early 2019 fucking sucked. But, despite it all, I just can't let it get me take me down into a bottomless black hole.
While I don't follow the Catholic, or any, religious doctrine, I do believe that this is a season of rebuilding and renewal. No, this doesn't mean I'm suddenly "all better" and not going to have any more battles with grief, but I am slowly starting to feel a turn. A transition. A restoration of self.
Man, even just taking a moment to write that brings a sense of relief and calm.
It's taken over a year and I'm starting to feel less like a stranger to my new normal, but instead able to handle what is now my world.
Grief, is indeed a twisty, uneven, uncharted, constantly changing, road. It doesn't come with a map or any all knowing roadside assistance. But, somehow I feel like the path, while still quite treacherous, is now at least well lit.
Sunday, April 21, 2019
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Do Unto Others
Originally posted on my Facebook on April 10, 2019:
I just had a brief encounter with a woman who could use good thoughts/energy/prayers/love/light sent her way. So whatever you may believe, I'd appreciate you sending it out into the world today for this woman.
I was sitting in the car parked on a street in Boston and I hear a scream nearby. I look out, quickly scanning, trying to find the source. I knew the sound. It wasn't of someone in danger, but someone who was just hit with the runaway train that is gut wrenching, life altering, sadness. I see in my rearview mirror a woman on her phone, drop to her knees. My heart broke for her.
Everyone on the block froze and stared, unsure of what was happening. A couple gentlemen stopped, but were waved away.
She hung up her phone, sat another moment, then stood up and started walking in the opposite direction, her bag hanging in her hand, her posture of someone who was lost and distraught.
I sat another moment, wanting to run to her, but having seen her dismiss the men, wasn't sure she wanted anyone near her.
But my gut was telling me to check on her. I got out, and walked briskly in her direction. Call it selfish, but I needed to make sure she was ok.
A little further down she sat down again on a stoop and pulled out her phone and was talking to someone when I reached her. Giving her a handkerchief (now I have a good excuse for carrying extras) I stood off to the side and just waited a moment. Actively not eavesdropping, but I did catch her mention "ICU," I began to have a picture of what had happened.
She hung up, stood up, and I asked how she was doing, and if I could give her a hug.
She had just found out her 20yr old sister had passed.
We stood there, two strangers crying, in an embrace. I held her while she cried and said similar things I found myself saying just over a year ago: "I can't believe it," "it's not fair," "she's really gone."
I asked if she needed anything or wanted me to accompany her anywhere. She said thank you, but no. She was heading back up to Maine, where her family is and where she had moved from recently.
I simply said I understood, I was so sorry for her loss, and for her to take care and travel safely and carefully.
I'm sharing this simply to encourage anyone and everyone, if you see someone who is distressed, please don't just freeze and stare. Obviously be careful (not everyone wants to be approached or can be safely), but be there when possible.
Please take care of yourself, Ms. Recent Boston Transplant. Sending love to you and your family.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Days after this encounter, it still lingers with me. I realized that "gut" feeling was more than just one human seeing another human in pain and wanting to help. It was a flash to after my dad calling to tell me about my mom and my being so beyond thankful I wasn't alone.
I remembered letting out the same anguished cry I heard that woman make. I remembered that moment knowing my world had changed forever and there was no going back to the way things were. That phone call, like hers, was the mark of my new normal.
I'd had faced sadness before, as I'm sure she had as well, but it's the sudden, out of the blue incidents that make their ever lasting mark.
I still wish there was more I could've done. I feel like there is more I should've done, but that time has come and gone, and all I can do is hope she has found some peace. And hope that if anyone sees another person in the situation I did, whether they've experienced that same feeling or not, they reach out to help.
I just had a brief encounter with a woman who could use good thoughts/energy/prayers/love/light sent her way. So whatever you may believe, I'd appreciate you sending it out into the world today for this woman.
I was sitting in the car parked on a street in Boston and I hear a scream nearby. I look out, quickly scanning, trying to find the source. I knew the sound. It wasn't of someone in danger, but someone who was just hit with the runaway train that is gut wrenching, life altering, sadness. I see in my rearview mirror a woman on her phone, drop to her knees. My heart broke for her.
Everyone on the block froze and stared, unsure of what was happening. A couple gentlemen stopped, but were waved away.
She hung up her phone, sat another moment, then stood up and started walking in the opposite direction, her bag hanging in her hand, her posture of someone who was lost and distraught.
I sat another moment, wanting to run to her, but having seen her dismiss the men, wasn't sure she wanted anyone near her.
But my gut was telling me to check on her. I got out, and walked briskly in her direction. Call it selfish, but I needed to make sure she was ok.
A little further down she sat down again on a stoop and pulled out her phone and was talking to someone when I reached her. Giving her a handkerchief (now I have a good excuse for carrying extras) I stood off to the side and just waited a moment. Actively not eavesdropping, but I did catch her mention "ICU," I began to have a picture of what had happened.
She hung up, stood up, and I asked how she was doing, and if I could give her a hug.
She had just found out her 20yr old sister had passed.
We stood there, two strangers crying, in an embrace. I held her while she cried and said similar things I found myself saying just over a year ago: "I can't believe it," "it's not fair," "she's really gone."
I asked if she needed anything or wanted me to accompany her anywhere. She said thank you, but no. She was heading back up to Maine, where her family is and where she had moved from recently.
I simply said I understood, I was so sorry for her loss, and for her to take care and travel safely and carefully.
I'm sharing this simply to encourage anyone and everyone, if you see someone who is distressed, please don't just freeze and stare. Obviously be careful (not everyone wants to be approached or can be safely), but be there when possible.
Please take care of yourself, Ms. Recent Boston Transplant. Sending love to you and your family.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Days after this encounter, it still lingers with me. I realized that "gut" feeling was more than just one human seeing another human in pain and wanting to help. It was a flash to after my dad calling to tell me about my mom and my being so beyond thankful I wasn't alone.
I remembered letting out the same anguished cry I heard that woman make. I remembered that moment knowing my world had changed forever and there was no going back to the way things were. That phone call, like hers, was the mark of my new normal.
I'd had faced sadness before, as I'm sure she had as well, but it's the sudden, out of the blue incidents that make their ever lasting mark.
I still wish there was more I could've done. I feel like there is more I should've done, but that time has come and gone, and all I can do is hope she has found some peace. And hope that if anyone sees another person in the situation I did, whether they've experienced that same feeling or not, they reach out to help.
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