grief
reflection
Miles to Go
Today should be a milestone since it's been a month since Mom passed. A month ago I was sitting on Anni's floor, wondering how I was going to get some sleep. Today, at least two people who I know enough to talk to but not well enough to talk to often asked me, “How are you doing?” which really means “Your mom died and it's tragic and I want to express my sympathy,” but I took it to mean “Say you are fine because honestly you are right now” and wondered why they would even consider that I would be vulnerable with them of all people.
The milestone came on three weeks after her death when I had a dream about her. It was one of those dreams where everything makes sense within the dream but not really outside of it—now that I’m thinking back to what we were doing, I think there was something to do with a game about children’s blocks. What I know is in that dream she knew she was going to die, and I was saying my goodbye to go back to college or something. I woke up and thought, “I have so much to tell her before she goes!” And then I remember.
A milestone comes every time I do something that I hadn't done before, like stay out until 3am with friends “working” on homework and getting accepted to present a poster by the major conference for the field of work my thesis deals with, and realize all over again that I can’t pull up the family group chat and text her. Most of the time it's without fanfare, like someone opening a door to a cold wind that overwhelms you before the door swings shut again, leaving you in the shock between temperatures.
The milestone came on three weeks after her death when I had a dream about her. It was one of those dreams where everything makes sense within the dream but not really outside of it—now that I’m thinking back to what we were doing, I think there was something to do with a game about children’s blocks. What I know is in that dream she knew she was going to die, and I was saying my goodbye to go back to college or something. I woke up and thought, “I have so much to tell her before she goes!” And then I remember.
A milestone comes every time I do something that I hadn't done before, like stay out until 3am with friends “working” on homework and getting accepted to present a poster by the major conference for the field of work my thesis deals with, and realize all over again that I can’t pull up the family group chat and text her. Most of the time it's without fanfare, like someone opening a door to a cold wind that overwhelms you before the door swings shut again, leaving you in the shock between temperatures.
Here's a couple of my thoughts that have been rolling around in my head. They are interrelated but not cohesive.
I wonder if I am engaging in more reckless behavior as a way of distinguishing life with Mom and life after Mom. I had the dream of doing stupid things like staying up wicked late when you know you have school the next day, but I never expected to actually do it until I was up at 3:30am, just having come home from working at a 24-hour coffee shop. This weekend I have to write a 12-page paper that I've outlined but not yet begun. It's not like I'm going through a massive personality shift, but I wonder if my apathy has lead me to do more foolhardy things or if my drive to live and take the bull by its horns has made me less inclined to let even the crazier things pass me by.
I was at a concert recently, which is one of the first times I have been at a long event where I was to passively consume rather than actually create. After 10 o'clock, I was ready to cash in. I checked out on a good number of songs, and my mind turned to the people I interacted with today and my feelings on the few well-wishers I interacted with that day. I realized that I am annoyed by people who are concerned about me but paradoxically am also afraid that they will stop being concerned and move back to their own lives. I don’t want to to talk about it and do want to pretend that it’s all fine, but at the same time, that’s not what I want. Maybe it’s difficult right now because my grief is so public, but soon it’s going to be difficult because my grief is so prolonged.
For our last house devo, Eddie had us write letters to people we love. I felt the pressure to really say what I mean, to communicate the depth and breadth of my love to them just in case, which of course made me cry. But there was one thing I wrote in the letter: that my home in Nizhoni has both softened and sharpened my longing for home in Massachusetts. At the concert, I came back to this line, and at the risk of being heretical or even worse, cheesy, I think that living in one home softening and sharpening our longing for the other home is a part of the reason we long to be with loved ones who have passed on. Our homes on earth are lovely and life-giving and sites of great joy, but they also remind us of who isn’t here and the sin of the world. Our homes soften and sharpen our longing for the kingdom community of God.
Even saying that feels kind of disingenuous because I sound like my mom dying has revolutionized my faith or whatever when really I’m struggling all the same. I’m not angry with God and I am comforted by the idea that she is somewhere better, but I’m also just living my life again. I don’t really know where to go from here: what memories to use as fuel to burn and what memories to use as walls to block the wind.
I wonder if I am engaging in more reckless behavior as a way of distinguishing life with Mom and life after Mom. I had the dream of doing stupid things like staying up wicked late when you know you have school the next day, but I never expected to actually do it until I was up at 3:30am, just having come home from working at a 24-hour coffee shop. This weekend I have to write a 12-page paper that I've outlined but not yet begun. It's not like I'm going through a massive personality shift, but I wonder if my apathy has lead me to do more foolhardy things or if my drive to live and take the bull by its horns has made me less inclined to let even the crazier things pass me by.
I was at a concert recently, which is one of the first times I have been at a long event where I was to passively consume rather than actually create. After 10 o'clock, I was ready to cash in. I checked out on a good number of songs, and my mind turned to the people I interacted with today and my feelings on the few well-wishers I interacted with that day. I realized that I am annoyed by people who are concerned about me but paradoxically am also afraid that they will stop being concerned and move back to their own lives. I don’t want to to talk about it and do want to pretend that it’s all fine, but at the same time, that’s not what I want. Maybe it’s difficult right now because my grief is so public, but soon it’s going to be difficult because my grief is so prolonged.
For our last house devo, Eddie had us write letters to people we love. I felt the pressure to really say what I mean, to communicate the depth and breadth of my love to them just in case, which of course made me cry. But there was one thing I wrote in the letter: that my home in Nizhoni has both softened and sharpened my longing for home in Massachusetts. At the concert, I came back to this line, and at the risk of being heretical or even worse, cheesy, I think that living in one home softening and sharpening our longing for the other home is a part of the reason we long to be with loved ones who have passed on. Our homes on earth are lovely and life-giving and sites of great joy, but they also remind us of who isn’t here and the sin of the world. Our homes soften and sharpen our longing for the kingdom community of God.
Even saying that feels kind of disingenuous because I sound like my mom dying has revolutionized my faith or whatever when really I’m struggling all the same. I’m not angry with God and I am comforted by the idea that she is somewhere better, but I’m also just living my life again. I don’t really know where to go from here: what memories to use as fuel to burn and what memories to use as walls to block the wind.
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