I think I have finally figured out how to write about my mom. Just like the grief, I can’t take it all at once. I break off little bits and pieces at a time, just enough to nibble on. If I took a big ol’ bite, I’d choke to death. Like it was a spoonful of Nutella and I stepped on a Lego. So, I’ll write little vignettes. Snap shots of her life, of mine, of her death.
Let me tell you this really quick. My mom was my best friend, my companion, my son’s third parent. She was entwined and ingrained in our lives as closely as anyone can be that is not a spouse. I go home to her house every day. Park where she parked. Feed the animals she brought home. Water the lawn she tended. I live there, in my childhood home, in the house her and my dad picked out together. It’s so full of memories, all I can do to change it is move the furniture around.
There is no right or wrong way to grieve. And there is nothing you can say to someone who is grieving that is going to change anything. I have found though that there is one thing, and only one thing, that is actually really nice to hear. I love you. So if you know someone who is grieving the loss of someone close, try those words. Those words say so much more than “I’m sorry”. They say “I’m here with you” because I didn’t realize how alone I wasn’t until she died.
As hard as it is to write through the grief, it is just as hard to submit those grief writings for publication. But, I do what I always do. Just close my eyes and click.
Seven Rain 