Grief.

Sometimes I look at my son and my nephews and it takes my breath away how seemingly fast they have surpassed me not only in height, but in expectations of who they are becoming. An ache stirs whenever I see them together as of late, reminiscing about their play as toddlers when I would overhear comments from my mom about how much trouble they’ll be together when they get older. Then the bigger aches surface, especially as I marvel at my mom’s oldest grandson- how her baby boy has grown and matured just in the months she’s been gone, how he looks out for his little brother and younger cousin- and how inexorably proud and full up with love she would be.

As the precious earth spins each day and these people in our lives whom we love, with every fiber of our being, change and grow, it’s one more spin of the earth without my mom on it. One more day that my sister and I get to experience the moments between these sweet boys, and my mom does not- and so the pain grows too, right along with their healthy brains and bodies. Their growth and age reflect not only the beautiful path nature has laid out for them, but also the culmination of what my mom is missing, and what she will never get back. Today’s reflection is not about my grief- but my mom’s. The pain that hangs over them from her not existing alongside them; watching with her eyes; loving with her heart as they ‘get into so much trouble,’ in her words. The lives we get to witness each day and the love that we get to share and express to her grandsons, without her.

So much of my blog is to create a testament of the process of loss- a raw reflection. So as you read the above words, your brains will likely default to concepts of after death- and I don’t dismiss these concepts- but that’s not what this is about. Delivering messages such as, ‘well she’s still with us’ has good intention behind it, but does not revive facts, or the world as we experience it. It’s vital to live the alchemy of loss as it presents itself, daily, and today- right now- it’s these boys, and their growth alongside her absence that is what we live.