We all process our grief differently. We know this, of course. We have all heard it, there are lots of cliches about it, and you see little poems and memes about it all the time. But when you are in the grieving season, you experience that reality differently, as you realize that you are not actually sharing the same grief that each of your family members are experiencing. Grief is a very individual thing, and it is relationally based. And since every relationship is distinct, every grief will feel different.
This came home to me last night in a hard new way as I was talking with my brother, who is grieving the loss of the very same mother I am. He loved her just as much, without question. But his relationship with her was different than mine, thus his grief is different than mine. This is normal and expected, but reminds me that while universal, grief is also individual and lonely. And everyone's way of processing is also going to be different, so you are alone in that, too. This journal is not about his feelings, and his story is his own, so I won't say anything more about him. But it brought home to me how isolating grief can be, even when you share a loss for someone you both so dearly loved.
Every loss is unique, because the relationship itself is unique. People are irreplaceable. The things you miss will be different and distinct. The things that are special to you, that you particularly miss, are probably individual, rather than collective. I look at something, a knick knack or a book, and it means nothing to me, while my brother will grab it and say, oh, I have to keep that. Meanwhile, he is tossing something that is meaningless to him into the donate pile while I'm crying wait, that's important to me, and he can't imagine why!
Our spouses can support us, but they weren't there for the entirety of our lives with our mom, so they can't know the depths of our relationship or fully understand what we have lost. Our children have their own grief, based on their own relationships with their grandmother, each separate and unique and individual and complex. How do I best support my children while navigating this whole new painful emotion in my own head? And how do I give them the space to support me back when I am used to being the strong one? Perhaps this is where the tide starts turning and the children start taking a stronger role in the relationship? Grief is a complex landscape, for sure.
I lost my dad as a child, and that grief was and is entirely different than this. Nothing could compare to the sudden loss of a beloved parent early in life. And I have lost other much loved people in my life before now, of course, but never my own mother, the foundational person of my life. There is only one person who has underpinned my life for my entire life, been there for everything, the good, the bad, the happy times, the sad times, the highs, the lows - and that is my mom. My life has unalterably changed.
The grieving began awhile ago. This journey began awhile ago. But this portion? When they say your heart physically breaks? They are not wrong. My heart is hurting today.
I am reminded again today of the importance of allowing people space to grieve, and to sit beside them in their grief. One of the things I will miss the most about my mother was her ability to sit with me in whatever space I was in, without having to fix it. She allowed me to feel whatever I felt without needing to solve anything or work it out for me. She just listened, or often, just sat in silence with me, and she was comfortable with that. It is a rare skill, and so valuable to me.
My mom would expect me to eventually pick myself up and move forward, though, so I suppose I shall. I will carry her inside my head and follow her guidance, because after all these years, I pretty well know that would be what she would want me to do. But for today, I am going to have to let myself mourn, because my broken heart is fragile, and tears on earth are where I am at. I will pretend she is sitting with me, though, quietly listening to my heart, and holding my love as she always did. Even death can't steal that away, because she left a piece of her heart with me when she took a piece of mine with her.
