Grief & Gratitude
Today would have been my Mom’s 66th birthday. She tended to be unfazed by the number of candles on her birthday cake (typically a Coke cake!), although they only ever reached the number of 55, so I’m quite confident she wouldn’t mind me sharing her age with the world. If her children were doing it, then she could do it too. She was never too old to try something new or to go on a new adventure.
Mom’s response to age had been modeled by her parents. Age wasn’t something to be feared but to be embraced. A positive attitude was seen as the greatest predictor of age. Countless times over the last couple decades, I’ve heard my beloved Grandpa discuss how old he actually feels. At times, it’s been 15-20 years younger than his current age. Now, at age 91, that gap is closing.
Grief is a messy thing. It’s not just a series of stages that we can succinctly move through and check the appropriate boxes as we do so. Oftentimes, our journey through grief looks equivalent to a colorful, crayon drawing of a two-year-old. We aren’t sure where it starts or where it stops or even what’s happening in the picture. It appears quite chaotic.
However, the depths of grief isn’t something to be feared. Our grief is equal to our gratitude. If we love little, we grieve little. If we love much, we grieve much. I’m grateful for the extent of my grief because I’m grateful for the tenacious, loving mother that I had for 27 years. While these years together were not nearly enough, I am grateful for each and every one, complete with all of the challenges and blessings, struggles and victories.
In the early days following Mom’s death, I was constantly told by well-meaning individuals how all of the “firsts” would be so difficult—the first Christmas, the first birthdays, the first big life moments—without her by our sides. But, they said, it would get easier. However, it was one brave friend who told me the truth: It doesn’t get easier; it just looks different.
Grief never really goes away. It’s constantly changing and taking different forms as the years pass. At times, just when we think we have if figured out, it will catch us totally off guard in the most seemingly ordinary moments of life. It’s unpredictable that way. And it’s gut-wrenching.
Yet, in the midst of ongoing grief, I choose gratitude.
I choose gratitude for the endless laughter that brought us to our knees in tears, clutching our sides. I choose gratitude for the late-night talks in my bed, trying to figure out life. I choose gratitude for the model of a generous and giving heart. I choose gratitude for being taught to look for beauty in the seemingly mundane. I choose gratitude for being shown how to cling to hope in the midst of darkness. I choose gratitude for Mom’s enduring example of faith. I choose gratitude for Mom’s life.
Thank you, Mom.
Be free,
Lani
