The Grief Brief: A Season of Firsts
This is long overdue....or maybe its arriving in perfect timing. It seems like much of life has been moving at its own pace, including me. Whenever this finds you, I hope it finds you well & healthy.
You may be reading this well after Thanksgiving, amidst another COVID surge, a growing pandemic, a confusing (and celebratory) election season and facing the holidays with some semblance of disdain and gratitude merging together. I started writing this in October and it's crazy to realize that December is almost here and time continues to move forward despite my heart feeling anchored to a past that no longer exists.
[sharing the words from one of my mentors, Jayson Gaddis, a relational leader, on the power of presence and honest support]
My memories of "before" are already starting to feel hazy and it scares me to know that one day a "normal" will exist without my favorite person actively living in it. As much as my mind can understand this is how life works, my heart still feels boggled by the immense resilience needed to grow from the cracks. I am beyond exhaustion. I am beyond recognition, even to myself. The days feel long despite time feeling shortened.
We often are eager to celebrate firsts, but loss has transformed this for me. Seasons transitioning, holidays, birthdays, each month/week/day-- all of it is now marred and immersed in a new wave of grief. "Firsts" for me have become bittersweet & somber and I find it difficult to truly articulate the simultaneous dread and desire to celebrate. The past few months have been a season of many firsts I never anticipated experiencing in this way, but sharing my reflections living through them below.
[FIRST] Summer:
It's crazy how some moments in life are so monumental, they become the way you measure time. In a way, we all live a life full of significant moments in seemingly insignificant days, creating calendars of time that only we will ever comprehend. As the weather gets cooler, the leaves change color, and the sun sets earlier, it's insane to feel that I lived a whole summer without my mom. In fact, I've lived a whole 6 months without her ( I am writing this on October 12, 2020) and time feels vast, endless & slow. I feel like I am made of cement, heavy and stuck, yet I have to have hope that this is the foundation to building something new and strong. Hope is a heavy word, but I hold on with all the strength I have left.
I deeply believe that no encounter is an accident, especially when I meet my sweet patients. In October, I was taking care of a gentle Italian gentleman. A man who was married for over 50 years, father of 5 children, grandfather to 13, and soon to be great-grandfather. He was beaming with pride over the story of his life, despite having suffered so much physically. I try to take a few minutes to hold my patients' hands while they recover from surgery, the hospital can be such a lonely place (especially now) and sometimes patients like to be reminded of their own humanity. This man's life was filled with many struggles, but they led him deeper into his relationship with his faith. Outside of his work at a manufacturing company and responsibilities as a husband and father, he volunteered as a chaplain for many years. He felt it was his heart's purpose and reminded me to importance follow my own, despite the heartbreaks that it can lead me into. He shared with me the concept of "redemptive suffering" and how in his faith, the kind and sincere acts from a few noble hearts can have greater impact then the vile and selfish acts of many others. I was dumbfounded-- how did a few minutes of hand holding build a connection deep enough to transform my heart? His words were a sermon I needed to hear.
It's incredible how the power of vulnerability allows us to forge deeper empathy for each other. Living in integrity is painful, often lonely, and mostly confusing; however I do believe in the power of positive energy. I feel its' strength in group meditations, I feel its pull around certain people, and I was immersed in it from birth through my mother (and her mother). It's often the shadows amongst the brightness of life that I resonate with consistently. It's where we allow ourselves to be beyond human, but reconnect to our spirits again. I am not yet sure what this chapter in my life is teaching me, maybe there will never be coherent answers. Life offers many complicated paths and some may never really make any sense. I try to find small moments to keep moving forward each day, though some moments feel like I am stumbling in the dark. I like adventure, but I don't enjoy traversing the unknown with no certain destination.
The way grief and gratitude mingle and coexist is complicated, but I think 2020 has provided an opportunity for some collective understanding. I know all of you are also grieving, and while the causes and reasons may be different--I believe this is a catalyst for us all to transform the way we build our future. The disruption and destruction are opportunities to recreate who we want to become and to evolve as a collective humanity. To connect more- to ourselves and to each other. To need less. To desire enough. To share our whole selves. To hide less. To leave space to hear & see each other. To react with compassion instead of aggression. To accept that darkness is part of who we are. To live our lives without needing to add any filters.
[FIRST] Navratri & Diwali
Saal Mubarak & Happy Diwali to you. Diwali season was extra difficult because while the spirit of the holidays is celebrated by children, the memories are created by mothers-- the food, the nuances of puja schedules and activities, the coordination of personalities and preferences, the elaborate decor, and of course, the hand fed prasad that always felt like it was packed with extra powerful blessings. We tried our best to create a rendition of celebration, because despite our hollow hearts, the flicker of possibility looms ahead and we must forge forward. This Diwali, each diya I lit was a reminder of all the dark days I am walking through and all the bright moments ahead. The resonance of dark and light creating a warmth we all can live in. As each ghee-wicked flame flickered, I prayed for the same strength to share my shine despite knowing that by doing so, I had to endure the pain of burning my current existence.
By the time you read this, my first Navratri will have passed. Another time where my memories are seeped in moments with my mom. Dressing up and arguing over how long we took to get ready. The telling of the stories behind the Goddess we celebrated every evening intermingling with stories of her own life as we drove to different temples or gyms for garba. Taco Bell date nights in our car on the way home while we unpinned our now itchy, glittery outfits and heavy jewelry. This Navratri, without any garbas or gathering, I decided to give reverence to the Goddesses this celebration honors. I created my own rituals and celebrations, invoking traditions I hope to continue as I continue to celebrate the divine feminine that is so prevalent in our lives.
[FIRST] Thanksgiving:
Grief changes shape, yet it lingers in every moment and it never really goes away.
Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite gatherings, despite its horrific historical start. The past few years, for me, it also was a time of trepidation. Somehow or another, Thanksgiving was typically spent inside a hospital. What was once a celebration slowly transitioned into a sense of dread which transitioned into enduring courage as we prepared for it and made plans that could always be cancelled. In a sense, many of my holidays for many years now have had #2020 vibes. Maybe one day this tradition will transform into something new, but for now it all remains confusing, sad, and strange.
[
FIRST] Birthdays:
When life has so many unknowns, I feel its so important to celebrate the life we are given, therefore birthdays a big deal to me. For us girls, birthdays also included celebrating mom. She was always the first to call and went out of her way to surprise us with small sweet gestures all month. Our favorite tradition was the mom-curated "birthday meal" prepared ONLY once a year and eaten for a week. She created a special menu for each of us, and for Malvi it always included her favorite dessert (gulab jamun).We celebrated Malvi's birthday, and in a way, Mom was there with us through the love and thoughtfulness of my sister's partner. Love may come in different ways, but it still seems to envelope us in these sweet moments.
[FIRST] December...
I know the end of this year is looming and I feel a discomfort around the unknown that lies ahead. There are no timelines or finish lines for grief I am realizing, just a continued enduring that makes some days easier then others. I don't have anything poignant to share here, except an honest reflection that I am full of fear and sadness and frustration around the days I ahead. I recently re-listened to a SuperSoul Podcast episode with Cheryl Strayed that brought me to tears. Her story of her wild love for her mother reconnected me to my own way of loving-- wildly, outrageously, and with complete devotion. When you love this way, the pain is unbearable when you are forced to let go.
“…the death of my mother was the thing that made me believe the most deeply in my safety: nothing bad could happen to me, I thought. The worst thing already had.”― Cheryl Strayed
Ending this long update with a song from the movie, CLOUDS, that I recently watched on Disney. It's based on the true story of Zach Sobiech, a young man with a dream to make people happy who happened to have a terminal cancer. I loved this movie and really enjoy this song, so sharing with all of you. Take a listen when you can.
Lastly, I appreciate all the acts of kindness that we have received in honor of mom. So many of you donated meals and shared your warmth with those in need. It's amazing to see the reach Mom's love had-- friends from elementary school to teachers from high school- I have gotten so many emails and cards with your donation stories and they warm my heart. As we edge into a cold winter, your gifts mean even more to so many families in need. Thank you for sharing how you can. So many families will benefit from your generosity, it amazes me to see how love can ripple into our communities.
With love & light,
Roshni