|Enjoying a cup o' Joe with some LOVE cookies.|
I'm a little unsure how to begin this year, even though we are already 17 days into it. As the holidays commenced and the new year arrived, I felt a deepening sadness in my heart. Last year, 2011 was the last I had with my momma. For some reason the actual mark of the year changing seemed so poignant... 2012 will be a year she never saw. Every new happening makes me want to invite her back into my world to share with her. She was after all the best person to share news with. The enthusiasm she carried was boundless, even when she was so sick, more sick than I ever have really shared here, or with anyone. She had something positive to say in every situation. I have a dozen or more saved voicemails on my phone, that I revisit when I long for her voice. I wish I saved some earlier ones as these you can tell how sick she really was feeling but they are still comforting and good for the release of a good cry. Sometimes it helps to get all the yuck out and start fresh, right?
I've been a little quieter these days, a little cocooned, if you will. I am still sifting through the emotions of all that has happened. I feel my heart growing and opening even through the ouch moments. I realize that we all carry these experiences around with us. I am motivated to remember that, then treat the people beside me more gently. And myself too.
I am so lucky that my mom wrote countless letters and notes to us since we were small. I have them saved and I keep finding more, tucked into books, in jacket pockets, amongst old photos...they are gifts with unimagined value. If only she knew the light she brought into this world. Today, I am trying to feel her words deep in my bones and feel the love that surrounds me (and all of us) always.
My new years intentions are simple...
get more sleep (aren't we all nicer people when we are rested?),
wear more red (it makes me happy),
and have more fun (don't think about the mess, just embrace the moment, relax and enjoy).
In the short days before my mom passed she said to me, "You need to relax." "And not just physically." I will admit to being a little annoyed in the moment. Thinking, "Mom, you are dying, how am I supposed to relax. This is big stuff." Whatever she meant by that, it was important for me to know. I think she was referring to my perfectionist, people pleasing, helper heart. I've always carried more worry around than necessary.
I'm feeling those words speak to me every day.
And I'm listening and learning s-l-o-w-l-y, to breath & relax.