time I held my mom’s hand…

Grief is a strange beast.

Clawing and ripping its way out with no regard for what other pressing matters are at hand.

Lying quietly and hiding, giving you a false sense of security, only to leap out at the sound of a familiar song, or a smell that triggers a forgotten memory.

I’m finally able to make it through most of Mass without crying; there are even a few Sundays when I haven’t cried at all. I’ve given up trying to hide it from those around me and just ignore the long looks or stares.

For almost all of my childhood, my mom was the cantor at Mass, and for so many songs, I swear I can hear her voice singing along. Part of me wants to think she is and hopes that I truly am hearing her… but the more practical side knows it’s simply a trick of my memory and broken heart.

I went months at a time without seeing my mom after I moved to Wyoming at 17. And depending on the season of life, I wouldn’t talk to her sometimes for weeks at a time. But I knew she was there if I needed her (or even if I didn’t). In the same way that I know which way is East when I’m back home in Milwaukee, even if I can’t see the lake.

As soon as she was gone, my heart registered the absence and hasn’t felt the same since. I still reach for the phone to call her or make a mental note of something I need to tell her the next time we talk. I comfort myself with the idea that now she knows in real time, and is particularly thrilled to actually be there with us for all these moments rather than having to rely on posted pictures and a retelling during the next phone call.

The other day, I was talking to my dad (who has now moved to Wyoming and is settling in well), and after he hung up, I found myself reaching for the phone again, thinking, “Wait, you forgot to let me talk to Mom.”

That particular incident left me feeling off kilter for days.

This is not my first time dealing with the death of a loved one.

And, as far as things go this was a death that was full of diginty, blessings, and a chance to leave nothing unsaid…which I will always be grateful for.

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