13 months…

One year plus one month…

Reflections seem to be taking over my psyche lately, so I thought I’d share some of them today. I think this will be the last time I blog about this because…it’s time.

What I’ve learned in the past 13 months.

I’m stronger than I ever imagined.

I can still learn how to do grownup things I never had to deal with before, like banking, selling a house, finalizing an estate.

Greif comes in waves, tsunamis, and sometimes just raindrops.

You never really get over your guilt. But you can learn to live with and accept it for what it is.

My mother hid a lot about herself and her life.

The reason she did was to protect me.

My mother was smarter than anyone – including me and her husband – ever gave her credit for.

She lashed out when she felt: threatened, hurt, or like she was being taken advantage of.

Her capacity for love and forgiveness was truly God-like.

Things that got me through the hard days…

Watching TikTok videos of screaming, drama-queen Huskies behaving like Huskies, or puppies doing puppy things on Reels on Instagram. They made me laugh and smile for a few minutes.

Staring at pictures of my grandson.

Hugging my grandson.

Taking care of my dog.

Crying. Yeah, I know this one is a little counterproductive, but sometimes you just have to let it out, you know?

Blogging about my struggles. Even though I am an insanely private person – despite being in the public eye – writing about what I was going through truly helped me compartmentalize and deal with the emotions flooding through me.

Hugging my dog.

Watching mindless Housewives Reality TV. Don’t judge me, lol. It really helped take my mind off the grief.

Here’s what didn’t help me get through those dark days…

People close to me telling me to get a grip. That everyone dies. That no one can live forever.

People telling me that I should just think about the wonderful long life my mother lived. It’s obvious they didn’t know how she struggled in it.

People telling me it was “her time” to go. Like that made it better, somehow, knowing there was some cosmic plan for her sudden death.

Isolating myself.

The uncomfortable looks people gave me when my emotions got the better of me, or if I answered honestly when they asked how I was doing. If you don’t want me to be truthful, don’t ask me because I don’t lie.  Hence, the isolating.

People saying things like, “The grief will lessen with time,” or “you’ll feel differently in a year.” It’s a year…still feel the same.

Things I’m taking into the future with me…

Life goes on. Cliché, but so very true.

There really is something beneficial to getting out of bed every day, making it, and moving one foot in front of the other even when you have no mental energy to do so.

I’m not the only daughter to ever lose her mother. I am, though, the only daughter to lose my mother. Even so, we, the motherless daughters, now belong to an exclusive club and can empathize with everything we’ve each gone through like no one else can because we get it.

People die, but memories don’t.

Having faith helps. It doesn’t necessarily have to be in God, but having some thought of a power greater than yourself does make the bad things easier to deal with.

It’s okay to cry for no apparent reason and no one should judge you when you do.

Understanding that the price you pay for loving someone is the emptiness you feel at their loss.

I’m going to butcher this quote, but I do remember hearing it, somewhere. “Grief is the price we pay for love.”

And I think that’s the most important thing I’ve learned during these horrible 13 months.

Grief is the price we pay for love.

Miss you, Mommie ~