Selectively Juggling

My beautiful mother passed away almost 48 hours ago – thankfully her final unfurling released her from the gnarled clutches of pain and suffering. She is at peace. I am feeling the warm hug of comfort, knowing that her spirit is now free to soar further and wider than her wildest dreams. How can I hold any sadness in my heart, when it is full of radical empathy and compassion for her? I can’t – I simply embrace the quiet clarity and peace, while my many siblings are either consumed or oblivious to the emotional chaos around them. I try to see me through my own gaze, not that of my siblings.

Having it all means that I was able to step into my deepest fears and pain when we were first told of mum’s aggressive terminal diagnosis. Having it all meant that I was able to trust myself and my capacity to face the inevitable with equal parts sensitivity, grace and courage. I cried and processed anticipatory grief early, within the quiet and private walls of my inner sanctum. I didn’t need to lose myself in the performative dance of grief, or by choosing to allow others to gauge, judge or critique my pending loss.

Mum’s diagnosis and aggressive cancer – the ravenous pain were her story, not mine to reframe. Not mine to dilute, reword or conflate. I simply needed to hold space for her, love her and not fall victim to false hope. I needed to hold the line of truth and compassion. Having everything, means being able to dig deep, and not lose myself, not bleed over everyone and in doing so muffle my mother’s voice.

Having everything is having the ability to fully feel, process and own my thoughts and emotions. Having everything is knowing my beautiful mother’s life was a richly textured manuscript of meaning, passion, loss, trauma, healing, despair, joy and grace. Its beauty and meaning is found in each page, each moment, each story and not simply the last dramatic punctuation mark. Period! Yes, it is attainable, but it is not easy. It takes practice and work.