Each year on the anniversary of Mario's death, and the day following it which happens to be his birthday, out of self-preservation perhaps, my calendar has been blocked off. Doing so allows for much needed flexibility in the day to make room for the raw emotions that flow. This year is no exception.
There is a excerpt from The Book of Joy that I love and speaks to this: "To linger in the longing, the loss, the yearning is a way of feeling the rich and embroidered texture of life, the torn cloth of our world that is endlessly being ripped and rewoven."
It seems nearly impossible that today marks five years since Mario was stripped from our lives. In some ways it feels much longer but in other ways, it has gone too quickly. As I look back over the last five years, there have been a few things that stand out about the grieving process:
- The vapors of his life still exist: As many of you have reached out with a note of encouragement, sharing a memory of Mario, or simply offered prayers for our family, we have been touched. In doing this, we are comforted that he is not forgotten and that you also think about him and remember him.
- Parental duties don't stop: I can't adequately explain this but as Mario's mother, I feel a sense of responsibility (sometimes this equates to desperation) to ensure he is not forgotten. It feels somewhat as though in doing so I am still protecting him. Still looking out for him in a way. Still caring for him and taking care of him.
- Sharing about him is just that, about him: sometimes when I come across a memory, a picture, something from the past, it gets shared in a variety of ways. When that happens, it is not a cry for attention or for sympathy as some may think. My son existed and for those of you who knew him personally, you know that he lived a "loud" life. He was vibrant, gregarious, chatty, funny, compassionate and was that "in your face" (in a good way) kind of guy. Before Mario's death there was a pretty constant flow of sharing funny stories, precious moments, etc. and that doesn't just stop because his heart stopped beating.
- Life (and death) are full of life lessons: as I continue to reflect on Mario's life and death, they serve as reminders to me that life is short; there truly isn't much in life to stress about ("Ain't Stressin" was Mario's final tweet); that relationships matter; to always say goodbye; to live life in a way that is purposeful and driven even when under pressure to do something different.
- Be grateful: we truly have so much to be thankful for in life. We also have so much to be thankful for in death. Verbalizing the things that we are thankful for is a healthy way to keep a good balance in life and helps avoid the mental trap of focusing on the negative. Is dealing with a death, especially a death of a child difficult? You bet. But when I begin to think about all the things there are to be thankful for (my children, the privilege of being a mom, the memories that make me literally laugh out loud still today.......the list is long), I am reminded of how much there is to be grateful for and it is uplifting.
Each person's grieving process is different. It looks different. It feels different. It does not come in a box with a pretty little bow. It is messy. It has no timetable. It has no end. To expect a person to "just get over it" is unrealistic. In case you aren't aware, time does not heal all wounds. However, the grieving process is just that - a process. And through the process, there is joy to be found. Joy in the memories, joy in the love, joy in the life once lived, joy in your life lived today.
May you find it too.
"Grief is a reminder of the depth of our love. Without love, there is no grief. So when we feel our grief, uncomfortable and aching as it may be, it is actually a reminder of the beauty of that love, now lost." (Gordon Wheeler)
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