Melancholy and the magic

When I recall those last days, I lack vivid memories, or a flow to the days. Rather, its disconnected memories: Sis in Poland, me later off to the Hamptons. Figuring out how to handle an ER admission – passing each other in the night. My boyfriend moving in.  A freak storm and a tree falling on my car. Working next to Mom’s hospital bed. Interviewing a potential new employee in her nursing home room. Life stood still and life went on. Such is the paradox of death while trying to remain alive.

I don’t remember who attended what service. Partially because less than a year apart, in the same season, we welcomed friends for Dad and then friends for Mom to say goodbye.

I remember making the announcement to please sing at mass per mom’s request. I remember my best friend, her new baby, and her mother coming down and bringing light and levity the repast.

I remember the priest saying something irritating in the eulogy referring to Mom’s dementia – almost making fun.

There are fragments and shards and somehow woven together but don’t make a holistic view of those days & one month leading up to everything. But anything traumatic can affect our processing.

Mom, we honor you today. It’s incredible how much I’ve missed you this year and these last few months. I am often amazed by the dance of melancholy and magic that happens when I miss you.

Such as it was this morning. I had “things to do” but listened to my intuition to get out in nature. As soon as I hit the trail, I was enamored my the beauty of the light hitting the evergreens, cascading down to the dirt. I’m overwhelmed by presence and love and sadness, feeling so incredibly connected to this world while missing you in the depths of my soul.

It’s bittersweet. It’s a sad smile. It’s a belly laugh with eyes glassy with tears. This is the journey of death too soon, of grief and of loss. And I still find that paradox shocking and beautiful at times.

So, I’ll eat some ice cream in your honor, cuddle some babies, hug dear friends and family, meet a new puppy, while I’m feeling like 3 years ago was a lifetime ago,  like yesterday and somehow an experience that occurred outside of my body, my everyday life.

I miss you more than I can express right now- and I’ll bring that love to all I can.

Oh, Mom.

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