“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.
Keeping me captive.
Releasing me but for a moment.
A respite – believing I have come through the worst .
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.
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.