The Vulnerability of Bereavement

Good morning to all of you. Here, we are enjoying a sunny morning and I hope it’s the same for you where you are.

All week, I have been trying to remember when I last felt the way I do right now. It’s been hard to describe what I am experiencing, even to myself! Finally, I made the connection. I feel like I did during the weeks immediately following the birth of my first child. My world had been changed in a way that was irrevocable. I had a new human being depending on me for her survival. Suddenly, my primary identity had changed. I had joined the ranks of all the women in history who had become a mother to someone. I felt shaky and vulnerable. Nothing I had read or heard truly prepared me for that transition. In a way I felt like a butterfly coming out of the cocoon, with wet wings, eyes blinded by the light, feeling overcome by the sights and sounds of the new world around me.

For me, losing my own mother has been a little like that. It’s a whole new world. My identity has changed. I am no longer a daughter. I am now an elder; there is no getting away from that reality now! In the light of that, I am needing a lot of rest, sort of like a newborn baby does, or a new mother. I am moving very slowly back into the everyday world, not feeling like I have a lot to give yet, as I adjust to my new reality. It’s a huge transition. I am going to try to give myself all the time I need to write, rest, walk and sleep.

I read a good quote this morning that was really comforting: “ Don’t try to calm the storm. The storm will pass. Focus on calming yourself.” Yes! I will do just that, trusting that just as when I became a new mother, I will, in time, adjust to this new reality, this new stage of my life. Time to be nice and gentle with myself, taking it slow and easy!