And I'm learning.

If there is anything I've learned about grief, is that it's not linear.

Days, weeks and now years pass by. People say time heals, I think they mean you adapt.  I'm not certain it is easier.  I still long daily to call my mom, to share the latest baby milestone that only a mother could appreciate, to tell her a funny story, to ask about how to make that spanish casserole we always enjoyed.  To hear her advice, or simply to get that reassuring voice on the phone, "Hi sweetie" she'd say, and somehow the day would be easier, because the one you always went to when you needed something was there.  Just her listening to you tell your story lightened your load.

I'm learning to adapt, to not crumble at parties, showers and big celebrations when people introduce me to 'their mother'.  Sometimes those words make my throat tight and my knees wobbly, but I'm learning to hide it.  To simply smile and embrace the moment they are having together as something they may not completely grasp for years to come.  The simple times together and the huge grand celebrations together.  Because I think I began grieving parts of our relationship for years before she passed.  I think she did, too.  It was a funny unspoken understanding between us.  I described our daughters nursery in great detail because she could no longer climb stairs to see how I placed everything just so and she poured her love over in words because she was unable to lift and hold and rock my first baby girl how she longed to. And we both sighed inside at the way we thought (and prayed) it would be different.

I share because it helps me, to move forward, to understand, to get out what I'm feeling.  And perhaps learn that I'm not alone.

And I'm learning, there is nothing linear about the heart.  It feels and remembers on it's own time. These pings on my heart are reminders of cherished times and glimpses of the true importance of life.  Each-other.

My hippie mama, I love you so. And each day I'm a mother I am more aware of your love for me. What a beautiful gift that is.

In the meantime.

I'm sure I'll be back in a blogging rhythm again soon.  But I do still visit most days to see what my favorite bloggers are inspired by or saying.  Kelle Hampton's blog is one of my very favorites.  She is an amazing writer, photographer and her inspiring theme to enjoy the small things is such a  perspective I appreciate and hold dear.  Kelle will be having another baby in days (yay!) and today's guest post from writer Claire Bidwell Smith.  It spoke right to my heart.  It's uncanny how she put words to the emotions that have been ebbing and flowing through me.

Finding My Mother by Claire Bidwell Smith

In the meantime, I'm looking for inspiration to post.  I'll be back soon.  Please don't give up on me.  (wink)

Oh my heart these days, somewhere in between sheer devastation for the families in Newtown, CT and overwhelming gratitude for my little one at my feet.  I'm not sure if it's being a mama or if everyone feels this deep ache for the families of those beautiful children.  I've hid from the news the last few days, my heart can't take anymore.  But daily, I'm saying a prayer, lighting a candle and hoping they all find the hope, faith, strength and love to carry on day by day.  I'm certain your hearts are feeling the same.

Only a week ago, I was thinking about how busy these days have been.  The holidays send all of us into a tailspin of lovely parties, playdates, gift buying, tree trimming and how I really enjoy all of it.  But this year, I want to let some of it slide and be present and not too overwhelmed to sit and read 100 Christmas books a day with my little bloom.  So that is exactly what we've been doing.  Sitting tree-side and reading together.  (Between, parties and playdates, and park trips and errands.)  The house has fallen to pieces and I'm certain my sweet husband walks through the door wondering if we've been ransacked by wolves while he's been at work, by the magnitude of toys filling the living room floor.  But I'm letting it go, if only for another few hours so that we can simply sit and be present and focus on, what truly, deeply matters most.

On a gifting note:  I saw these prints for sale in benefit of the Sandy Hook families, I knew I could be of support from a far by sending some funds and writing a letter of love to those who need it most.  I thought I'd share, just in case you, my lovely, faithful, 11 readers, were interested, too.  They would be perfect for children's rooms, play rooms or any place that needs a dose of color and encouragement in your home or office.

Also, the post office has set up a PO box for condolences, drawings and love to be showered upon the Sandy Hook families:

Messages of Condolence for Newtown
PO Box 3700
Newtown, CT 06470

I'm not sure what I'll say yet, but I'll be sending some love via snail mail for certain.  
Operation Sandy Hook on Brickyard Buffalo.  Here.  There are several more prints to pick from.  All for $5 a piece and you print them from home.  Add a frame and instant art.  Only 6 more days left for the deal and giving.

Print by Caravan Shoppe.

Print by Maypole Handlettered.

Print by Kelli Murray.

Truer words were never said.

On July 3rd, 2012 my sweet Mama would have turned 60 years old.  We gathered together that day to remember her beauty, her life and to say goodbye.  I'm sure I'll be saying goodbye for a while still. 

In the warm summer sunshine on her birthday we let her ashes drift with the wind high in the hilltops of her hometown.  It was a sacred time I will always remember.  Always filled with the scent of lavender, roses, tears.

As I gazed at those same hills a few days later, I could feel her smile upon me through the granite rocks, sage and scratchy brush landscape.

Kind.

My heart felt a lot of ache today.  After an eventful weekend of exploration with friends, the lull of a quiet Monday gave me a lot of time to think.  Too much time to think.  sigh.  I'm finding distractions so necessary right now.  Hello, Pinterest!  I felt like the slightest thing would send me sobbing.  Don't worry, I turned the station away from country music today.  I've realized I need to clear more of my time, and find what makes my heart content for right now.  For me, grief feels like coming through a terrible accident, alive but forever changed (and a bit traumatized).  

My mom's passing was so intimate and I'm not sure how to work through the memories that come back to me at the most unexpected times.  A dear friend told me that, grief triggers are found in the most mundane places.  Boy, was she ever right.  I doesn't help that I have bits and pieces of my moms belongings all over my home now.  I love seeing them but it feels so strange to own her things.  The necklace I gave her for Mother's Day one year, hanging in my room, feels so misplaced.  I remember shopping for just the right thing to make her feel sparkly, amidst chemotherapy.

I knew it was a delicate day so, I decided it was best spent snuggling my beautiful bloom on the sofa during nap time (one of my favorite places to be, I'm so blessed), cleaning the kitchen (I love a clean kitchen), then running a few short errands.  I'm coming down with a cold.  I needed vitamins and herbs to kick it fast.  Whole Foods never disappoints.  That store just makes me happy.

When I am having those delicate days, hours or moments I'm trying to stop and think about what my mom would say to me and how she would comfort me.  It helps me to know I can still feel her love, even if it's not the way is was before.  I'm constantly hearing her say, "Be kind to yourself."  Moms always know the right words.  Or at least those of us lucky enough to have moms like mine.  I'm gonna keep listening.  Hopefully her words will settle into that deep part in my heart. 

Be Kind Print. My Little Buffalo-etsy