“When we lose someone we love we must learn not to live without them, but to live with the love they left behind” – Anonymous
I recently lost my mother.
To death. To that land of no return. To that unfathomable hollow.
A place, indescribable.
Swallowing me.
Keeping me captive.
Releasing me but for a moment.
A respite – believing I have come through the worst .
Disappearing again.
An unravelling.
Of everything.
Of me.
Lost.
Unfooted.
Disorientated in this unfamiliar landscape.
And yet, I get through. Through the day, the night. The memories and dreaming.
Where she once was, now lives an echo.
An echo caught in my ears.
Like a catch in my throat.
Caught off guard as if blinded by sudden sunlight.
The interruption of a brief moment.
Of wonder. Of beauty. Of acceptance.
Awe at the fullness.
The fullness of it all.
I stand frozen in the perfection of life, and the living, and the loss.
Until tears fill up the empty hollows everywhere.
I want to remember.
I want to speak her name.
I want to live her love.
Her love for me.
The love she was.
The love she remains.
The love that pulls me out of the hollow.
But until then, I will grieve.
I will unravel.
I will mourn.
I will remember .
I will look for her.
Everywhere.
Until.
I find her in my heart.
Where the hollow will be fertile. With growth and newness and life.
Grief and loss finding their place, in the shape of my life.
The Unrepentant Wayfarer 