Grief and Thanksgiving in 2020
It’s been 28 years.
I no longer feel those fresh feelings of denial where I couldn’t wrap my mind around not having you here with me. To guide me. Love me. Support me. Hold me. The way only you as my mom could do. I lost the one person who I thought was impossible to lose. The thought of living even just one day without you here with me was unimaginable.
I no longer feel angry. Angry that it was you who got cancer. That it was you who wanted so badly to live and, in the end, there was nothing else left to do but say goodbye. You were far too young. I was far too young. It didn’t seem fair.
I never experienced the bargaining that so many told me I would feel in the days to come after November 22, 1992. From what I remember my bargaining occurred in your last year of life. Where, as a 9-year-old, I would make deals with g-d. I would get crazy ideas, like running from one side of my backyard to the other by a certain time and if I beat my previous time my mom would be healed and if I didn’t then she would die. It was a lot of self-inflicted pressure but it made me feel like I had some control. And I remember the day the bargaining stopped…I told myself to run into our neighbor’s backyard and jump into the canal behind their house and swim to the other side and back, and then do it again, beating my recorded time. I chickened out once I got there and saw the murky canal water. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to jump in and deep down I knew it didn’t matter if I jumped in that filthy water or not, my mom’s life wasn’t in my hands.
I no longer feel that same raw sadness. It is still here; still so close I can touch it and choose to pay it attention any time I want to, but, as anyone who has lost someone they love understands, the sadness comes in waves and for me being 28 years out- the waves aren’t as frequent and they certainly aren’t huge tidal waves at this point. What used to be a straight punch in the gut whenever people would mention your name or simply say the word “mom” no longer bothers me, actually I enjoy hearing people speak your name and I take comfort now in reminiscing about you with others, instead of quickly changing the subject. I remember being in school 28 years ago and cringing every time my teacher would say things like “make sure your mom signs the permission slip” or when a childhood friend would tell one of those “your mom” jokes and then apologize to me once they saw the hurt in my eyes. And the sadness came flooding back in during my early years as a new mom, where I would be up with the either baby in those odd hours of the night and sit in the quiet and see your face within theirs in the darkness—I would sit in that silence and wish you were there with me for those moments. Those times where I didn’t want anyone else’s company but my baby’s and my mom’s.
A photo of my mom when she was maybe 3 years old next to a photo of Hudson around the same age. I have always seen a slight resemblance in their sweet faces.
Its been 28 years and I while I know grief is an ongoing process and that as long as I am alive, you will be deeply missed…I also know that I have moved into the final stage of acceptance. Acceptance doesn’t mean I have “moved on’ (as some say and I roll my eyes at) or that I am “over it” or that I am okay and happy all the time. What it means is that all of those stages of grief are now covered by a blanket of gratitude. I am no longer in a dark place, rather the opposite. I am emerged in a sea of colors so bright and so vivid. I feel your love and presence daily within my interactions with my husband, my children, my family, my friends and even at times with the kindness of strangers—many of which are woman who are around the age you would have been now. With all of it I feel you here with me. With every dream I have of you. With every orange butterfly that hovers over the boy’s heads as they walk the halls of Palmetto, quite literally walking in their grandma Linda’s footsteps. With every red cardinal that we spy in the tree that overlooks our boys swing set where they spend countless hours laughing and playing together. With every accident, I avoided over the years by listening to my gut and no doubt being protected by my guardian angel. It’s you. Your love for me never left. Never ended. Never died. I am so grateful that you are my mom and that our love is forever.
I remember taking this photo like it were yesterday. This was on school picture day at Palmetto Elementary. I was in the 3rd grade. The photographer took my photo and then asked my mom (who just happened to be walking down the hallway at the time) if she wanted to take one with me. She passed away almost exactly a year later.
When I launched this blog back in March, at the start of the pandemic, I knew I wanted the underlying theme to be gratitude and finding gratitude in our busy everyday lives—the stressful times, the not so pretty times, the scary times, the heartwarming times, the heart wrenching times, the chaotic times, the mundane times, and everything in-between. I had no clue what the upcoming days and months would hold for me and my family but I knew no matter what there would always be gratitude around every corner. Like everyone, I too have experienced a wide range of emotions and added stress these past 9+ months, including but not limited to –feelings of isolation, loneliness, separation, anxiety, depression and yes, some wonderful togetherness and camaraderie within my “bubble”. Much like the loss of a loved one, every single one of us is currently grieving in some way as we have lost so much this year. These losses are very real and shouldn’t be minimized: loss of jobs, loss of activities, loss of events, loss of routine, loss of self, loss of mental health, loss of control; the list goes on and on.
So, with having a blog that is centered around gratefulness- how do I cover current tough topics and be real, raw and authentic for my readers and still manage to somehow infuse each writing with hints of underlying gratitude? The same way those who have lost loved ones turn to god instead of away. Somehow, when things happen that are hard-- gratitude is always there. It pops up organically every turn you take as long as you’re willing to look for it and receive it. And for many who have experienced the loss of a loved one, studies actually show that we have a heightened level of gratefulness and sense of purpose.
Three years ago, Joe and I met with a financial planner. I don’t remember the details from our talk except for two things—he was on team Susie when it came to the idea of me leaving my job and I will never forget him saying to us “comparison is the thief of really really good”. The truth is some people will always have more than us. More money. Bigger homes. Fancier cars. More vacations to more exotic places for a longer amount of time at much nicer hotels. But that doesn’t take away the fact that what we have, what we have worked hard for is in fact, really really good. This is where gratitude lies. I have never been someone who sees the glass half empty or one who thinks the grass is always greener on the other side. I love the color of my grass, the feel of my grass. I don’t need to even compare yards because I find my happiness right here in my little patch of land with Joe, Conner, Hudson and our Goldendoodle, Gator. Life is sweet and my heart is so full.
I approach this thanksgiving with new eyes. With 2020 eyes—perfect 20/20 vision, if you will. Like everything this year, Thanksgiving will also not be the same. Sadly, there will be less chairs at our table. Will we feel yet another loss, another holiday that should be this way or that way, but can’t because of COVID. Nothing this year is what we had planned on or hoped for, and yes COVID really sucks and is to blame. We know this. We can choose to treat this beautiful holiday, my favorite holiday, as yet another loss. We can go through the stages of grief and feel those real feelings of denial and isolation. Anger and bargaining. Depression and sadness, for what once was and is no more, but even still I know there is room for gratitude here.
In a way, we have so much more to give thanks for this year. 2020 has given us a clear view of life, of what’s important and of true value to us. The rest is just clutter and noise. This year has forced us to slow down and to be more present. For me, it brought back those familiar feelings of grieving and it also shined a light on who really shows up for me and who I want to show up for. This thanksgiving I urge you to look within and ask yourself two things:
1. What have I gained this year?
2. What have I always had but just now have come to really appreciate?
