Walking with Aria through my mothers graveyard

i’m not really sure how to talk about all this. It’s strange how long it’s been. 12 years. I guess the real length is 16 years. 16 years ago I saw my mother sleeping on the couch and somehow I feel the overwhelming truth that my mother would never live to see any children that I had. I went upstairs and sobbed and sobbed. I prayed, I don’t know how long I prayed, but I’ve never prayed as hard as I did that day. I pray that my mother would live the sea, to meet my children. 

I can’t remember ever bringing flowers to my mother’s grave before. It seems silly and away. She would never see them. Walking around there are flowers everywhere. Unlike me dozens and dozens of people came to visit this graveyard on Easter. All the flowers and the sunshine in the spring, makes his place so beautiful. I’m glad to finally contribute to that. 

It’s a long drive down here. I wanted to talk to my siblings, but they’re all at work. My dad too. I wanted someone to mourn with me, but instead like most grief it is a solitary thing. So here I am, introducing my daughter to my mothers grave. 

I think of her holding me on the hardest days. I think of how she always listened. Always. I remember talking to her on the phone a few weeks before she died. I don’t remember about what, but I remember it. I remember that she cared and that she wanted to help. That’s my mother was. She was a mom! More that anything else, she loved her children. And she would’ve loved Aria and Zelda and Thomas and Julia. And John and Doug and Charlin and DH. So much of her family, she never got to meet. Perhaps that’s the greatest tragedy of it all.

But she raised us well and loved us dearly. She had faults and foibles same as each of us. In many ways her physical and emotional pain became owned by each of us. I’ll leave that pain here today. I’ll bring back instead the beauty of spring I see around me, beauty I would never have known had my mother not labored to bring me into this world the same way I brought Aria. 

I wonder if I will live to see her children? I guess you never know. 

I wish I understood life better, and loss too. I wish I had found faith, the way so desperately wanted to throughout my life. 

There is at least peace in living a life of love and service. In Aria I know I will have left something tremendously good in this world. 

   

   

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One thought on “Walking with Aria through my mothers graveyard

  1. Oh Jes. I’m sorry I cannot give you a real hug. Grieving is tough. It stinks. It is complicated. And oh, so personal and individual. I wish I could offer you words of advice that would heal the wound, but it isn’t that quaint, is it? Never is. They say it gets easier with time, but I don’t buy that. I’ve seen Eric’s grandpa weep like a child when he speaks of his brother killed in WWII. Time can’t soften the ache because the absence of love we are clinging to is what hurts. To cease to hurt would be to cease to love. And that just doesn’t seem worth it. I’m confident you will continue to find ways to celebrate your mother and the love she imparted to you… as you are ready to handle that ache. Be patient with yourself in your journey of grief. There is ABSOLUTELY NO timetable you need to hold out as an expectation. And you know what? Same thing could be said for faith. Don’t feel like you have to have it by a certain age or it just won’t happen for you. It is a journey and a discovery. Either way, I know you are striving to live life with integrity and looking to embrace all the good that is in the world. That is what you did when you left a portion of sadness at the cemetery and bore away beauty in your soul. 🙂 Just keep doin that. 🙂

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