Grief is a process. A rollercoaster of emotions where I can go from "life is good" to "I didn't think anything could hurt so much" in a matter of seconds. It catches me in times I don't expect it. A punch in the gut that takes my breath away.
I have experienced driving down the road with the tunes turned up listening to a fun song and then the tears come streaming down.
Or that moment I just want to share with mom about a fantastic letter I got as a work reference and then realize I can't call her.
Passing some place we visited knowing there will never be another outing.
Or waking up in the middle of the night with anxiety questioning my support of her. Did I speak up enough for her? What more could I have done so she didn't endure so much physical pain in the end? Was it wrong to think the "professionals" would intervene instead of letting her lay there to die. I am thankful we had her moved to Strong so her last week was comfortable.
Mom and I didn't always have an easy relationship but we did have a great one. We came to have a better understanding of each other and for that I will always be grateful.
Lighthouses were my mom's favorite and they now have a new meaning for me ... looking for the signs from my beacons of light when things seem dark from the world beyond.
