In all honesty, I haven't had much to say. How many times and in how many ways can I say I'm a busy, tired, sleep deprived working mom of awesome kids who misses her own departed mom keenly, before it gets boring and redundant?
Not too many.
But this morning I woke up thinking of my mama just the same. Had my tea, cycled through some laundry, and found this quote, the lyrics from a Patty Lovelace song, in my facebook feed:
"Mama whispered softly, Time will ease your pain. Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same."
Of the many things I want from myself, the ability to take an attitude of acceptance toward loss and change is pretty high on the list. I have only to watch my children, almost 10 and almost 3 (wow!), and I am forced to acknowledge the inevitability of change. We cannot hold on, we can only appreciate the moments we're living, and love as fully as we are capable.
I feel like I'm getting closer. And once again I encounter paradox and wish for a moment that life were black and white, clear cut, simple. How does one fully acknowledge the loss of someone so important, while simultaneously embracing the concept of change and letting go. What the heck does that even look like?
Occam's Razor: "among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected."
In other words, stop over-thinking this Diana, it probably looks like exactly what I'm doing right now. Which is mourning her when I need to, and also recognizing her continued presence in my life.
This weekend I made yogurt, did face paint (fancy healthy stuff she bought for us) and paper chain dolls with the girls, packed up some Lemon Balm Mint Tea from my garden last year to send off to my cousin with the new baby, read Harry Potter and Sesame Street while cuddling my girls, was interrupted in writing this at least 5 times by various family members but came back to it, and probably did a half dozen other things, just like those, that were truly her, her gifts to me that still live on, through me, and maybe someday through my girls.
I can't hold her or hug her, or talk to her (though I sometimes do still), but she does live on, and in the calm that has begun to follow her loss, I'm beginning to really know and feel the truth in this.
I have some thoughts brewing on other topics that I hope to write about soon, but we'll see. I'm still that busy, tired mom. Until then, wishing you days and weeks as rich as full as mine have been these days.