When it is Dark Enough, You Can See the Stars.....

……….Quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson

My beloved mother passed away this summer. She was 92, lived a good, full life, and had many experiences, both wonderful and challenging. Since dad passed last September, there is some solace in the belief that wherever they are, they are together. It’s hard to fathom that I will never hold her, hug her or laugh with her in this physical world again. Everyone goes through this rite of passage, but that doesn’t make it any easier and it doesn’t make the grief go away. What is grief? Physically, it feels like my heart is being squeezed like a wet towel. My sister calls it “the sniper”, when one never realizes those overwhelming feelings will sneak up on you. I recently came across my mother’s soft sweater that she was wearing when she entered the hospital for the last time. As I held the sweater and smelled her sweet scent, the floodgates opened and my sadness burst forth like a waterfall in spring. It was a long, good cry, and I sat there feeling the emptiness of no mom. But having been through much grief in the last several years, and planning 5 funerals for loved ones in 4 years, I realize that grief is a necessary part of life which should not be avoided. It’s part of the circle of life that we are born into with joy, and at the end of the circle, we let go. Grief is important to our healing, and just as important are those memories we have that shine through to remind us our loved ones are still with us in spirit. After I had my floodgate episode and the tears subsided, I sat for a few moments and thought about some poignant moments I had with my mother through many years- the hours she spent when I was a child braiding my long mane of hair for ballet classes, the cups of tea we shared at the end of a day, the annual shopping excursions we would take on my birthday, the lunches we would have on special days throughout the year, the time we all went miniature golfing when my kids were little, the walks along Nantasket Beach boardwalk. These little, exquisite moments gave me the stars I needed to illuminate the darkness that had overcome my grieving heart. After mom’s burial, my sister Caroline and I took my son Sam and her daughter Georgia for a nostalgic walk along Nantasket Beach. There was an elegant symmetry of events that day, saying goodbye to mom in the morning, laying her to rest next to my dad, her loving husband of 64 years, and in the early evening, honoring her and dad with a walk along our favorite childhood spot with her beloved grandchildren …a beautiful sunset, a rising moon, tiny stars just beginning to show their brilliance, a feeling of peace filling our hearts.