the day we laid in the backyard on blankets

i keep going back to the days immediately following my moms death and funeral. i talked to my friend joe the other night, really he is my second brother. he has been there since the beginning. and he was like a son to my mom. he flew in from colorado when she died, as did a few other close friends. i have a few memories from that time.
her funeral was april 15th.
i remember joe talking at the funeral. i remember his pin-stripe suit. i remember feeling that he spoke to who she truly was.
i remember being enormously pregnant, standing in the middle of a circle of people trying to get to me to express their condolences. and as i stood there i felt that i was there to comfort them. that i was the strong one. that i represented my mom, and that she was holding me up. i was in a state of shock and disbelief.
and in some way when i walked into that room that day and saw a set up for a funeral, with an enlarged picture of my mom at the head of rows of chairs, it was as though i had already seen it, and in another way it was as though i was living someone else life. how does one explain this paradox? this paradox that is my life all of the time now, that has me feeling like i am living in a dream.
i remember walking into the building, holding steven's hand. dakota was there. of course. there were so many people there. i was so shut down. i believe it was that day that my emotional body went to sleep, in an effort to rally for the ensuing birth of my daughter.
but what stands out to me most is the day we all laid in the backyard on blankets. and it was like we had stepped back in time. time was suspended mid-air. my mom was just out of town, and we had all woken up late from the raging party we had thrown the night before. ta, joseph, laura, hannah, ryan, sara, and steven... we laid barefoot in the sun and soaked it up, like you do on a spring day when you have been long craving its warmth. and i could almost convince myself that she would be home any minute. and i knew that every one there would truly miss her deeply.
she was their dear friend too. she was their mother. she was the mother we all wished we had.
and i did have her. she was mine. i had her in the way that only children have their mothers. in the way that piper will always have me.
i had her, and she was the best. the greatest. and everyone that knows her knows that this is no exaggeration.
and when she was dying i felt that it was the cruelest thing that could happen on the planet, for me to have had her, my soul mate, the best mother on the planet, only to have her taken away from me. and what i feel today, as i sit here with the deepest sadness, is that i was the lucky one. the luckiest one. i am grateful to have ever known her.
and what i would give to go back to that day. to lay on that blanket with my best friends, bare-foot, basking in the sun, knowing that she was just out of town, that she would be back any minute, and that she would make us dinner,
and we would kiss her face.

our hearts

when we choose to have children we unknowingly make the decision to rip our hearts out of our chests. And then those little hearts go walking around in the world, on their own, vulnerable to all of the elements of our big universe. Even before they walk, before they start to make decisions for themselves, they can still die. By having children we become vulnerable to the deepest grief possible, loosing them.
a week ago my friend lost her heart. she had him for one year. he grew inside of her for almost nine months, came into the world a little early, and four months later, in one fleeting moment was gone.
i was forever changed the moment my mother died.
my world stopped for one moment, and my entire being was changed.
changed forever.
grief does not go away.
it becomes a part of us. it is an integral part of me that functions and breathes right next to the joy and the gratitude and the excitement about the future. it has a life of its own, and i don't seem to have very much say in how it functions. it comes up to the surface and subsides as it needs to.
like an undertow i am pulled under with its force, brought back up for air, only to be pulled under again.
and somehow my life is still full and so rich and saturated with joy and gratitude.
i am absolutely and continually astonished at what we are capable of living with.
we learn to live without.

silence

this weekend has left me with little to say. my dear friends lost their four month old baby boy. i cannot stop thinking about them. they fill my entire being. the pit of my stomach aches for them. the world stands on my chest. i have felt the depths of grief, and yet i know that what they feel today, i have not felt.

the vastness

i am aware that there is less writing from my darker moments. i started this writing in an effort to alleviate some of the grief i was experiencing, unsure of why i was making it public, yet followed my intuition. as i sit here i can remember many of those moments. there has been a big shift in the last few months, but there is a deep sadness that i believe will never leave me. i believe the same of the joy. just because i cannot see it all of the time doesn't mean it is not there.
in any given moment i can get in touch with either emotion. and sometimes i am swept away by them. and frequently i am afraid that i will be left out at sea to die. this really only applies to the sadness. i am not afraid of being overcome by joy.
just yesterday i sensed the the vastness of my moms absence coming in, and immediately the anxiety came barreling in. It is not always this way. It comes and goes in and out of consciousness throughout each day.
But sometimes i feel the hugeness of it all. the reality that she is gone. the vastness. the depth. in a moment i have a glimpse and it is shocking. so many times it feels like experiencing it for the first time.

dream

i just woke up from a dream. i was in pipers room, standing in front of her crib casually talking to my grandmother. and then i realized that i was talking to my grandmother and i grabbed her and held her tight. i was so happy to be with her. my mom was there too, but i could not see her. and i remember thinking that it made sense that i could see granny and not my mom. as i recall it it feels very real. i could feel my grandmothers body structure, her shoulder blades, as they really felt in life. i have not dreamed of her much since she died.
it has been a remarkable year. i was pregnant by august. my grandmother died in september. my mom died in april. i had piper in may. my family was a matriarchy. i became the top of the line overnight. a single exchange. my mother left and in came my daughter.

the joy i can contain

i am the eternal optimist. i remember when my mom was dying, i thought that her death would be the death of this part of me. i thought that all of my beliefs would dissipate and i would be left with only grief and anger. i, of course, could not see the other side of it. i could not imagine how much i would love piper, how much i would know my mom to still be here, and how much love and joy i would find in others and the world around me.
i am taken back by this. it seems to me that our core values remain unshaken through the tests of time so to speak. i do not believe that i am being tested however, rather, i am at choice. i am living out soul contracts and choosing. had i been someone that looked for the bad, the reasons that things dont work out, that is what i would have found.
i have believed and retracted many things in my life, but one that continues to hold is that we find what we seek. when i believe something i go out into the world looking for the evidence to prove that it is true. mostly i am looking for why everything is in its right place, that there is a reason for all of it, and that in the end it will always work out.
loosing my mom was my greatest fear. it happened. i lost her.
only to discover that i cannot loose her. only to be more convicted about what i believe.
this is not to say that i am not deeply sad and angry. i am. yet, i have found that there is room for both, the sadness and the joy. the grief is a part of me now. it feels that it will be there forever, an integral part of my being. within twenty one days i experienced the greatest sadness and the greatest joy of my life- the death of my mother and the birth of my daughter.
i have choosen a deep level of responsibility in this life, and there are times when i want nothing else but to not care. to just have fun, to be care free. i look at others who seem to live this way with great envy.
and then i remember piper. steven. my mom. art. friends. all that makes up my life, all that i am grateful for, and that i wouldn't trade for anything. and then i also remember that the grass is always greener. and in just twenty six years i have experienced so much life, so much richness.
"The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."
The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran.

her letter

the day after my mother died i was looking for pictures of her. for whatever reason i opened her jewelry box and i found an envelope addressed to herself. i decided to open it, thinking i would find a letter she had written to herself. instead i found a letter written to me.
i sat on her bed, where i had laid with her as she died less than 24 hours prior, tears streaming down my face as i read the most beautiful letter. she wrote in 1998. when i think back to our life then i cannot find a reason for her to write this letter. but i know my mom, and i am sure she just felt inspired, so she sat down to write. when i read it i have to believe that she knew she would leave life early. she knew i would need this letter.
when i miss her most i think of the last paragraph.

"There is so much more I could say, but it would never approximate the love and gratitude I have for you choosing me to be your mother. I have given you what I have known to give. There is so much more I would have liked to give you. If you are reading this I may be gone. I would not have wanted to leave without some attempt at expressing my love for you. You have been a treasure to me. It is you who have made my life meaningful. I know you will self-actualize, as you are every moment. You will carry my love with you, knowing that when I leave it is time, it is meant to be. My job is complete here. But always remember that I will be with you and find joy and peace in that. Let every sunset, every rainbow, every moon lit night, every blooming flower, every singing bird remind you of my love, not to sadden but to fill you with a sense of love. Know that I am at peace, in a glorious place awaiting our reunion."