It's a Sign

   As the end grew nearer, one of the things that brought me the most comfort was lying in bed with my Momma talking about things - how things were when each of her four children were born; what were her favorite things when she was growing up; did she have any regrets; etc. 
   As we lay there one day, I asked her if she would please send me a sign when she got to heaven, just so I would know that she was okay.  I said, "don't tell me what it is, just make it something so I'll know for sure."  She carefully thought about it and then said, "okay, I will." 
   I know there are two schools of thought about "signs".  People either believe in them or they don't.  I firmly believe and always have. 
   The day after my mother passed, I was out late at night walking my dog, crying, talking in my head to my momma, when I looked up and saw a shooting star.  It surprised me, as I've only seen about three in my lifetime, so I said, "Momma, is that you?"  Immediately, another shooting star went over. I had no doubt that she was telling me she was "okay".  In the next three months, I saw 18...yes, I said 18 shooting stars.  It's usually when I'm having a tough time or when I'm just talking to her as I walk. 
   The other sign I received was confirmation of our love for the beach.  About 8 months after my momma passed, I traveled to the beach with my Aunt for Mother's Day.  We took some of Momma's ashes down to the beach with us and buried them among the dunes.  I was walking on the beach by myself soon after that when I came across the most perfect sand dollar I'd ever seen.  It was the first perfect sand dollar I've ever found.  I knew it was from my Momma. 

   What I've come to believe is that when our loved ones pass, they become angels.  Their new job is to watch over the ones they've left behind.  It's a tough job and that's why it takes something as strong as an angel to accomplish it.  I take solace in the knowledge that my Momma is still with me, listening to me talk about my day, my worries, my dreams, and my fears.

Spilling the Grief

So what qualifies me to write on grief?  What it is and how to get through it?  Easy answer – I have been there.  No one helped me through it; it was a battle I fought myself. I did fight it, and I came through it.

I won’t say I won the battle because I still have days that I struggle. Days where I think to myself, “Who would it hurt if I just stayed right here in my bed?”  There are days where I balance precariously on the edge of being slightly misty to running the very real risk of drowning in my own tears.

For the most part, however, I’ve learned to manage; and I think I can help you manage.

WHAT IS GRIEF?

Let’s start with, what is grief?  According to Wikipedia, this is the definition:

GRIEF is a multifaceted response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something that has died, to which a bond or affection was formed. Although conventionally focused on the emotional response to loss, it also has physical, cognitive, behavioral, social, and philosophical dimensions. 

So, did you understand that?  Does it sum up what you feel?  Here’s what I think grief is:

GRIEF is the emotion you feel after losing someone or something important in your life. A similar feeling to when someone reaches into your chest and rips out your beating heart. What's left at that point (an empty hole), that is grief. It is such intense sadness that you lose the power to function and may even find yourself lying on the floor, unable to explain how you got down there.

So what's my story?  I lost my momma to cancer September 13, 2013.  The first thing is, everybody is different.  Some people seem to take the loss of someone close to them and fold it in threes, put it in a little box, and tie that sucker up with a bow. Other people never seem to grasp that this is a state of being that has to be acknowledged and dealt with. 

Going to the funeral, hugging all my relatives, and then ending the day with a meal at someone’s house just wasn’t enough for me.  At first, I couldn’t quite grasp that my momma was gone. My logical mind knew that she was gone.  After all, I had been beside her until her dying breath. I had written her obituary. I had planned her funeral.  I spoke at her funeral. I KNEW she was gone.

Every day, I reached to call her.  I checked Facebook for her status updates. I waited all morning on my birthday for her to call and sing to me, just as she had done every year since I could remember. I brought her name up in every conversation. I told funny stories about her. I talked about her like she was still here. And then someone asked me why I talked about her all the time - actually the question was, "Does it help you to talk about your momma all the time"?  And that's the first time I realized that I WAS doing that!  I hadn't been aware of it. But that told me something very important - I hadn't processed her death. I still thought of her as living. And so to me, the first step of walking through the grieving process has to be letting yourself realize - really realize - that the person you loved did indeed die.  And that my friends, is a hard lesson!

Photo from 1979: