Dear Friends,

As many of you know, I recently lost my mother in June, and we laid her to rest on my birthday. It was an honor to share that day with her, but it was hard. I struggled to find solace in it. I finally worked out the understanding that saying “goodbye” to her on the day of my birth was and always will be a poignant reminder of the bond we shared. And I will need it, because getting through her loss will take a lifetime.

Losing a parent is a surreal experience that touches the deepest parts of our hearts. In our grief, it is as if we are compelled to do one of two things: either to sift through memories, or to move on as quickly as we can so not to give them another moment of our time! I chose the former, and as I peruse through the many memories of my mother, I am not only cherishing her legacy but also uncovering the layers of my own history. (Thank you mom for documenting so many moments of our life so unselfishly.)

Mourning our dear loved one is, to me at least, a therapeutic process. Revisiting moments from my past forces me to face my own narrative, my own story intertwined with hers. Each memory, whether it brings a smile or a tear, presents a chapter of my life that shapes who I am. Seeing that in my mind’s eye, in a way brings me comfort. It reassures me of the love I was given and the challenges I so bravely overcame. It reminds me too, of the pain and the struggles that my mom went through, and how high she set the bar for courage, strength, and love.

In these moments, I see clearly the significant role my mother played in molding me. I realize that now I have become the anchor in my own life. The absence of my mother brings a shift within me, an undeniable change that marks a new stage of adulthood. It’s a moment where I truly “grow up,” as the safety net I always had is no longer there. I find myself stepping into a new role, bearing the weight of my own existence and that of our family’s legacy.

No matter how good a daughter I was, there’s a lingering sense of regret. I feel that I didn’t appreciate her enough, didn’t spend enough time with her, and didn’t have the necessary conversations that could have bridged any gaps in our relationship. I wish I had known her better. Mother was so selfless, and always a giver and doing for others, if there was a selfish side I didn’t see it. I wish I had known more about her growing up, her feelings about being a preacher’s wife and living in a glass house. Her secret desires and wishes… It was only in the later years that I started asking her about more personal things. As long as she could, she would tell me a story. I wish I had made time for more of those conversations. These feelings of regret are natural, and it’s important to acknowledge them without letting them overshadow the love and connection we shared.

Putting all the pieces together after the death of my mom is a process that demands courage and openness. It takes time to sort through emotions and memories, and it’s essential to allow myself to feel everything that comes up. Right now, I feel like my anchor is gone and I am adrift and not sure which way to go or where I will end up. But by facing my feelings head-on, I honor her and myself, and will embrace the growth that I know will come from this profound loss.

In this journey, I strive to be kind to myself. I allow the memories to guide me through the grief, and I remember that in every reflection of my mother, I am also rediscovering parts of myself. This process, though painful, is a testament to the enduring love and influence of my mother’s legacy in my life.

Thank you for your support and understanding during this time. Your love and kindness mean more to me than words can express.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Sandy

I’d rather deal with the pain of trying to get to you than the pain of losing you…

Yes, the words that we all understand – pain, loss, grief, faith, hope, despair, love.  And you know what I like about them?  They connect us! If we could ever stop long enough to be honest with ourselves and each other, we would find that #1 – we are not alone, and #2 – we are all connected.  May not know all the answers (and we don’t) but we can sure get through this life easier when we don’t single ourselves out to be some kind of lonely martyr or pitiful victim.   Really.  What has gotten me through the tuff times in my life (along with the love and support of my family and friends), was knowing that there are MILLIONS of women (and men) around the world that are going through the same type of thing (or another type of painful thing)!  And we survive.  With love, we will survive.  Love for ourselves and with acceptance.  Acceptance without judgment.

Last night I watched Clint Eastwood’s movie Hereafter and wow, I will be thinking on this story and characters for days!  My short review is: slowly moving, powerful, beautiful, deeply touching, deeply emotional.  There were parts in the movie I wanted to wail!  But then other moments that made my heart smile.  My take away?  Just what I was talking about – the many similarities of our stories, our connectedness, and the sweet thread of humanity that holds us all together  – no matter where you are, who you are, or what you believe.  Oh, and let’s not forget that thing that is so common among us ALL – our faith, and our desire for more.  I thought about the loved ones I have lost and the blank despair your heart feels, just like one of the characters in the movie.  I related to Cécile De France’s character in her search for meaning of her experience – how many of us have a “secret” we are trying to give meaning to in our lives? And then Matt Damon’s character that struggles with his “gift” – is it a blessing or a curse?  Ever wondered that?
I love Eastwood’s movies.  I like the way he patiently moves you into his characters, until you know them, relate to them.  I just sat back and enjoyed each nuance of the 3 main characters and their stories that intertwine throughout the movie – it was a quiet pleasure with a hint of sadness mixed throughout, then blossoming into a cool breeze of joy…life is kinda like that, don’t ya think?
Love and peace…always!
Sandy