It Has Been 20 Years

The view of the waves from the bench. 

The 20th anniversary of my mom passing has been rolling toward me like a big wave on the horizon for the past month. I could see the wave off in the distance and every day the wave gets closer, the face feels a little steeper and the crest taller. Every February is different, but I have been very aware of this anniversary. I have been trying to feel the feelings as they come. It is a roller coaster that I know won't end until I have done all the feeling. 

When I was in high school, I learned about the grief cycle in school. As one of the few students in my class who had actually experienced grief and loss, the lesson on the grief cycle didn’t resonate with me. I wasn’t in denial or bargaining with a higher power like the diagram said. This was my life and it felt real to me. I felt something I didn’t have a word for.

I recently learned the definition of anguish while reading Atlas of the Heart by Dr. Brene Brown. Dr. Brown’s definition is “an almost unbreakable and traumatic swirl of shock, incredulity, grief, and powerlessness,” (91). Reading this I had a moment of clarity 20 years later. Anguish resonated in my soul in a combination of pain and liberation. I feel it in my ribs and my identity. I am so familiar with anguish, but never had language to express what I had felt, and then all of a sudden I could say it out loud. It felt validating and heartbreaking. A paradox of feelings.

Yesterday I felt like I was in the middle of a wave of anguish as I thought about my mom and wished she was here with me to see what I am doing, read what I am writing, and share some of the joy I have in my life. I now have a word to describe how I felt at 15 when my mom died, and I am able to process it and slowly move forward on this wave. I slowed down. Cried. Tried to be as kind to myself as possible. 

Today when I woke up, the sun was shining and I felt like the wave had passed. I am feeling whole because I took time to process and feel. In these 20 years I have learned resilience. I always float up to the top after the wave crashes. Today I am celebrating my mom and the beautiful ripple effect of loving and losing her. The ripples are my family and friends, the experiences I have had, and the lessons I have learned. I am so grateful. 

Mom, I love you. Loving you is loving myself.