Hiya friends!
How are you? I mean really — how are you doing?
It’s summertime and feeling a heck of a lot more normal than last July at this time, but we’re also creeping back up into scary news territory when it comes to pandemic life, amongst other things. I know that’s bringing up a lot of feelings (and worries and fears) again for many of the people I’ve been chatting with lately, myself included. So, I thought I’d pop into your inbox and just say hi. Remind you that you’re not alone in how you’re feeling — or just in general.
For me, this is a weird week. Not to get all deep thoughts on you so early in the day, but I had a realization yesterday morning that this week last year, my mom was alive. And it was, unbeknownst to any of us, her last week on earth. It’s beyond trippy to think about — still, nearly 365 days later, hard to wrap my mind around. Hard to wrap my heart around. She’s gone, but she was just here, you know? Or so it feels.
I’ve mentioned it here before, but shortly after I lost my mom, I started grief counseling. My loss was so sudden, and felt so tragic and traumatic, that I knew that I needed some help navigating how to put one foot in front of the other. I’m still proud of myself for acknowledging that, and credit my mom for maybe whispering it into my sub-conscious — reminding me to take care of myself, before I even really understood the depths and trajectory of grief at its fullest. I still see this therapist, albeit at far less frequent increments, and last week she reminded me that I should be proud of myself for how I survived the last 12 months. That that in and of itself was a lot shoot for. I really hadn’t thought too much about it, but yeah… I guess she’s right, and I am.
I hope you let that soak in for yourself, too, for whatever life threw at you in 2020 and even the first half of 2021 — even if it was “just” an unprecedented pandemic where maybe everyone you love has lived to tell the story. However you handled it, you handled it. You made it this far, through what been more than a year of the universe perpetually moving the football from us a la Lucy from Peanuts; be proud as well. Yay for surviving, folks! It counts. No small feat indeed.
Within the cavern of my heart that now exists because of my mom’s departure, there’s also this box that I’ve stuffed everything into related to the whole experience. If anyone’s wondering how I’ve gotten “back to normal” (I mean, if I even have, which is hard to say, honestly, and changes from day to day), that’s how — by allowing for a certain level of ignorance in my day to day. Pretending, so to speak, that my mom is still here and around and just a phone call away most hours of the day, so that I can be functional and not fall apart when I’m trying to, say, edit a story at work or hold a non-grief related conversation. The reality and bad memories from her last few days and the deep, deep sadness that yes, still remain: they all go into that box. I open it sometimes in the evenings, and every now and then, items (memories, thoughts) slip out throughout the day without my beckoning, but for the most part, I am now able to close or open it myself. It’s a pretty box, probably dark green velvet and with a big bow, but it’s there and that’s part of how I made it through this last year without self-combusting. I know I say this a lot (and probably talk about this entirely too much 😬), but grief is personal and unique to each person; there is no right or wrong way to grieve, or to process loss of any kind, nor any universal timeline. I repeat that often because I know it’s easy to compare. I’m just sharing what worked over here and got me from July 2020 to now, but I’m not saying it’s good or bad.
Can we also take a moment to recognize how incredible the universe is, too (despite moving aforementioned damn football)? Last week, on the same day that last year, my mom was admitted into the hospital, one of my very best friends (my sister by everything other than blood) sat in a different hospital and gave birth to her first baby. The same day, one year apart. My mom went in that day in 2020 and so started the domino cascade that took her out of this world, but a year later, this little love arrived to start her brand new life, her journey in this world. It’s sort of incredible, isn’t it? The revolving door of it all. The serendipity of the world. I can’t thank the universe enough for giving me a reason to appreciate July again rather than dread it.
With that, I hope you have a day filled with light and belly laughs and a victory or two (even a tiny one counts!). Let me know in the comments or via email how you’re doing — seriously, I want to know.
Thanks for reading!
Sending you all the YAYs,
Joelle