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I’ve been watching the newest season of “Bridgerton” (no spoilers, promise), and there’s a scene in one of the early episodes that shows Lady Bridgerton a decade or so earlier, coping with the recent death of her husband. In a conversation with her son — after he’s basically asked why she’s a hot mess — she says with a sigh, “I’m doing the best I can.”
For a fiction show based in Regency London, the sharp truth of that line struck me.
It’s something I said many, many times in the early days and months of losing my mom. Honestly, for probably an entire year. (If you’re new here, I lost my mom unexpectedly in 2020 to cancer complications.)
I’m 👏 doing 👏 the 👏best 👏 I 👏 can.
And, I was. I still am!
That also remains one of my main pieces of advice for anyone who has since reached out to me in a similar (awful) circumstance; just try your best, and do whatever you need to do to take care of yourself right now. I don’t care if that’s eating ice cream in bed and skipping holidays or asking your friends to call and check in on you or… whatever. Do your best, doing what you need to do to stay afloat.
Truth be told, this is not quite what I was planning to write about this week, and as I’ve mentioned in the past, I hesitate to write exclusively here about grief. It was extremely cathartic for me when I first launched this newsletter, and I know it’s helped many of you because you’ve told me so (thank you, I’m so glad!), but I also don’t want this to be a space that is…. you know. All sad stuff, all the time? But that line got to me, and I feel strongly that grief — and specifically talking about grief and loss — needs to be normalized. In other words, talked about without the awkwardness and tip-toeing that often accompanies conversations with anyone who’s recently experienced the loss of a loved one. People are so often afraid to ask how you’re really doing, or maybe they’re afraid to actually hear the answer… and in return, those on the grieving receiving end are sometimes afraid to really share how they’re feeling, how they’re doing — especially as more time passes. It’s been ~1.5 years for me, and while the sharp edges have been sanded, it certainly still hurts if I think about my experience, it’s still hard, and I still deeply appreciate when anyone asks how I’m doing or about my mom. I feel extremely lucky that I have had an incredible support system to hold me up in these last couple of years, all of which never once made me feel silly or stupid or like *too much* for calling to cry or needing someone to be there with me on my mom’s birthday, or whatever the case may be. But I know I’m in the minority, right? There’s too many who don’t feel like they have that support from the people in their everyday lives, and I guess that’s part of why I built this space to begin with…. to foster community and to give us an outlet to talk about the tough stuff, and also celebrate the tiny victories and encourage resilience, whether about losing a loved one or the pandemic or whatever the heck else the universe feels like throwing into our path.
On a related note, my husband was out of town these last few days, and being home alone now triggers missing my mom something extra. My mom was always my go-to person when I was feeling lonely or just in need of some company. She didn’t live nearby, but she was forever present and made herself available at practically all hours via phone. (I know that is such a privilege, and trust me when I say I didn’t take it for granted.) I’d call her if I was scared, or text her if I had insomnia or just wanted a suggestion on what to make for dinner, or if I didn’t want to sit home in silence. She was my lifeline, and my connection to something beyond myself. It’s been a real learning curve, getting used to being 100% alone at times, because even though I thought I was used to spending time alone — I’d lived alone for many years before getting married, and haven’t lived near my parents in more than a decade — I had the great privilege of having a constant, invisible companion for 33 years.
Anyways, it’s sort of funny how our brains work, you know? Whenever I’m home alone at night nowadays, including this week, I find myself automatically reaching to call my mom, or thinking to myself that I should just dial her real quick when I finish washing the dishes to talk about xyz, and tell her how my day’s going. And then, of course, reality kicks in and I realize I could call, sure, but I’d just get the operator telling me the phone number isn’t in service. Or worse, some stranger would pick up. In a sense, I’m glad my subconscious thinks she’s still alive, but at the same time, the reminder each and every time that she’s not is sort of the worst.
Long story short (too late, I knowwww), if you’ve lost someone, you will — no matter how much time has passed — miss them. And if you miss someone, MISS THEM. We’ve talked about this before, but it’s really an honor to be missed, isn’t it?
If you’re just trying to make this through, to get to the top of your mountain, I see you — keep going. You’ll get there.
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I hope you all are having a great week! I’d love to hear from you — leave a comment, or send me a note.
Thanks for reading,
Joelle
Bridgerton! I’m watching it too of course. My heart broke for the mom during those flashback scenes. I can definitely relate to the idea of “I’m doing the best I can!” It has basically been my mantra as a new parent during the pandemic, as a teacher during the pandemic, the list goes on! We are doing the best we can!!