The Question
How do you hold grief with celebration?
The Intention
Paradox
The Meditative Moment
Recently I saw a woman post on the socials about how frustrated she is with all of the advertisements she’s receiving for Mother’s Day. Her mom died a few months ago, and the ads feel like salt in the wound. Often when we experience and talk about new grief, we can express astonishment that the world has the audacity to keep going. “Don’t they know that my daughter just died?” “How can people go to work when my husband had a heart attack and died?” “This can’t be normal. My best friend isn’t here anymore.” Time stops for us. The fact that the calendar keeps going is jarring. The woman who posted about ads is experiencing her first Mother’s Day without her mom. She is in the midst of the Year of Firsts, and that’s a dreadful place to be. All of us, at some point, have had those years. We will have them again. They bump up against celebrations, and it takes time to navigate the murky waters of joy and grief. The uncomplicated has become complicated. If you’re finding yourself in that murky space this year, for whatever reason, I invite you to sit with it for a bit, let the memories or feelings or annoyances wash over and through you. Write about it, cry about it, move about it, breathe into it, yell about it. My hope for you this weekend—especially if you are grieving your mom, your children, your experiences with infertility, or other mothering grief—is that you find a kernel of beauty, goodness, and peace in what is profoundly difficult. I am sending love your way.
