I needed to feel alive.

It’s been 7 weeks since I jumped. And bounced. And threw myself willingly into a foam pit.

It’s also been 7 weeks since we brought my Mom to her final resting place.

Just 11 months and one day apart, we lost first Dad and then Mom. While Mom’s Alzheimer’s was a long journey, filled with constant big and little losses of her, the ultimate loss was quick. Too swift.

The whole ordeal felt unreal. Thus proving to me, no matter how much you expect the end, you cannot know how it will rattle you. Moments of those weeks after felt so disconnecting to this truth, the truth that Mom was gone. Maybe because it was so close to the loss of Dad. That we stood in the same room, both in the nursing home and in the funeral home, to welcome our family who has suffered three additional losses this year.

This is not what I could have ever imagined for my life. My world. My family. And here it was. In my face, but feeling so foreign.

I got through the two days of traditional goodbyes. They helped, the comfort of my faith and the rituals we perform. It gave me something to connect to when my world was rocked.

After the wake, after the mass, after the repass, I did not know what to do. I expected that I would want to curl up in a ball and hibernate.

But it was the opposite. I need to live. I needed to experience what it meant to be alive, in this moment, in the stark reality of death.

No, this was not a “let’s have a glass of wine” moment; it was “I need to feel myself breathe in life”.

And so we went trampolining. My boyfriend, our friend, and I. On the day we buried my Mom, I jumped for nearly an hour straight, to feel my heart pound, my breath race out of control, sweat drip from my face. I faced my fear of throwing my body against a wall and safely landing on my feet. I slam dunked at the hoops, and I kinda flipped into a foam pit. But best of all, I could feel a smile emerge from my face.

No, I could never envision this part of my life, or the action I took later that day in my moment of grief.

But it was truly me. Because I needed, deeply desired, to feel alive.


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