THE GRIEFGLOW MANIFESTO: WHY THIS BLOG?

This blog finds its roots in the losses of my life and my slow, stumbling, but steady path towards healing. Of all the resources I explored when I was newly bereaved and deep in grief, the most powerful ones were those that simply shared someone else's story. The least helpful were those that either tried to fix or change me, or communicated with such mutedness and sadness they seemed to make my own sadness worse. In reacting to such times, I came up with something I called the GriefGlow manifesto, which goes as follows. I am pleased to share it and some glimpses of my journey with you. So, the GriefGlow Manifesto: Because grief is never black and white. Because healing is hard enough without coloring everything around us gray. Because we're just sad, not broken. Because we are a community, even when we feel the most alone. Because a picture is worth a thousand words when we have no words to say. Because we don't need to be changed, fixed, taught, or hurried. Because being vulnerable isn't the same as being powerless. Because our story isn't over. Because the world is as beautiful as it is painful. And because though a little bit of beauty can't change the pain today, it may help us toward healing tomorrow.



Friday, June 25, 2010

A BITTERSWEET FORGETTING

Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of my mother's death.

And the first year I forgot it. A bittersweet milestone.

Every other year since 2005, the date was impossible to forget. Memories of that morning in Hospice House came flooding back on their own.

But this year June 25 was just a busy day, full of deadlines that were also pleasures. I didn't really look at the calendar much, but even if I had, things like "book review due" and "conference call with Ben" were the things I associated with June 24.

Yesterday I thought of Mom several times, as I do almost every day. I missed her, as I also always do. I just didn't think of her death.

That's why this milestone is bittersweet. I'm chagrined at forgetting such an important date in my life and Mom's life. I fear that it means I'm unloving, uncaring. There's a touch of guilt in me, and shame.

But there's also a paradoxical and surprising joy here.

I don't like to put words in the mouths of those who have passed away. Those of us still living don't know for sure what they would feel if they were here, and I never like it when people pretend we do.

But I will hazard a guess. At her best, Mom was someone who tried to live very much in the present. She believed in joy, and healing. She didn't believe in rehashing the dark days of the past, or in endless guilt.

And so I am guessing that Mom would understand that in forgetting the anniversary of her death, I was not forgetting her, but rather remembering her life rather than her passing. I am guessing that she would understand that I finally have her tucked so firmly in my heart that I no longer think as much of losing her. And I am guessing that she would approve.

I could be wrong about that. I am not wrong in saying that she was a very special woman, who gave her daughter a lifetime of gifts both tangible and intangible.

In memorium Patricia Anne Fox. Born October 12 in a year she told only when forced to. Deceased June 24, 2005.

Rest in peace and joy, Patty Anne.
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1 comment:

  1. Stephanie AndersenJuly 21, 2010 at 10:59 AM

    very beautiful, very insightful, very forgiving, thank you, both for this entry, and the one on your Father.

    ReplyDelete

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