Grieving

[yotlyolqualli]

Originally Posted by Greyson

My mom passed away this week. She was the eldest daughter of seven children. My mother helped raise her siblings. I was the eldest daughter of my mother's seven children. I was named after my mom.

When I last saw my mother this summer she told me that my name Greyson fits me perfectly. She told me I was her "Grey Son. Not quite one or the other." My mom told me my name suited me perfectly.

I wrote my mom a letter to take with her into eternity. I am comforted to know she cried with joy when the letter was read to her. My letter was cremated with my mom. The truth is, not only the letter, a piece of me too. I love you Mom. Until we meet again.

your Greyson.

Losing Mother was one of my first and most hardest life's lesson in the natural order of things. Words can't express the pain and anguish that one feels when they lose their loved one's. For me, Mother was more than a mother, she was a friend, a champion, a confidant... someone who supported me, no matter what, but didn't waste time blowing smoke up my ass either. She was the first to call me on my shit, and the first to confront anyone else who tried to do so. That was her job lol.

I am so sorry for your loss. They say that time makes it easier. It doesn't. For me, all time has done, is allowed the times of pain, to be more interspersed with times of remembrance of the good times, the kindness she exhibited, the wisdome she sought and shared, her creativity, her love, her selflessness... her quirky odd as hell sense of humor... but there are days, still, when that day, that whole entire hellish nightmare, unfolds in my mind... and that knife to the heart, that fist to the gut is just as excruciatingly as painful as the day it happened. More so, because now, faces in that scene, are also missing.

I have been blessed/cursed with a memory like a steel trap. If I allow myself, or can't stop myself from going there... I can recall the ticking seconds, the scent of the hospital, fear of my family, the scent of death... in minute and horrific detail. Each detail bringing back the same pain they brought the day it happened.

No, time doesn't make it easier to accept or live with... time just allows the GOOD stuff to come in and take up more space in our minds, than the not so good stuff.

My prayers and thoughts are with you, Greyson.