The Sweeter Side of Grieving

Happy Family Day to all! For those who don’t live in Ontario, we have a Family Day holiday today, allowing us to rest and recharge in mid February, as we head into the final stretch of winter.

On Saturday, I went to my Mom’s condo on my own. I had been going in the company of others prior to this, but I felt it was time, and that I was strong enough to go and be in her space by myself to reflect, as well as to do some necessary tasks there.

I came across a copy of Mom’s beloved Globe and Mail, which she read every day. She was always on top of the news of the day and had definite opinions on what was going on in the world. I had a chance to begin looking at the family photo albums, beginning with 1954, the year Mom and Dad were married. I found a great photo of them on their honeymoon, and was able to take a picture of it with my phone, and share the moment with my sibs, children, and some of the grandchildren. I found a bundle of greeting cards she had kept over the years. Reading through them again, I got a window into what she most valued about our relationship.

Probably the sweetest moments came when I encountered other folks who live in Mom’s condo building. They had lots to say about what Mom meant to them, and again it opened a window into her world at that stage of her life. I spoke to one gentleman who appeared to be in his late 80s. We talked about how Mom was still able to live on her own even up to age 92, but when her final illness came, it was only 3 weeks until she was gone. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Dear, that’s what we all hope for. To be able to live here as long as possible, and then be gone quickly.” Wow. It was a great perspective to be given by someone of Mom’s age, to help me with my own grieving process. Although it seemed to me to be too short a time of illness to be ready personally to let her go, it was good to realize that for at least one person in their late 80s or 90s, the way Mom went was perfect.

As I drove away from the condo building I realized that though I had talked to several folks in the condo, and had been able to listen to their memories and comfort them as they teared up, I myself didn’t cry. I felt like I had turned another corner in the grieving process. There seems to be a sweeter side to grieving which we can access when our bodies are ready for it. To hear the memories of others, to go through old photo albums and cards, to listen to her favourite CDs, all these are providing me beautiful moments of remembrance as I try to deepen my understanding of Mom’s life and what she meant to others, as well as deepen my understanding of what she meant to me, and what she gave to me over the 69 years that I knew her and was blessed to call her my Mom.

Thanks so much for everything, Mom!