Grief

Grief is a funny thing.

My mother passed away 11 years ago.

My father passed away 9 years ago.

I grieved deeply in the days, weeks, and months afterward.

I have always believed that grief is something that

lessens over time.  Life goes on.  As you continue without

your loved ones, you build more and more memories 

of times that do not include them anymore.
Old memories fade.

Life has a way of proving you wrong.

My aunt passed away last week, so I drove home 

to Burlington for her wake and funeral.  I now have only

one aunt and one uncle left, so my family consists of

cousins, their husbands and wives, and their children.

Funerals are an important time for me, 

not only to grieve the loss of a family member,

but to reconnect with the family that is remaining.

My parents, of course, were not there physically,

but there were photos of them on the memory boards,

and stories told about them by my uncle and cousins.

I was in the town where I grew up which in itself

floods me with happy memories.

I started feeling it during the funeral mass.  

The priest was a childhood friend.  We were in

an older Catholic church with old wooden pews 

and kneelers.  There were those little clips in the pews

that I remember so well.  I have clipped many pairs

of mittens gloves to them during mass.  The rituals 

of the mass, although different at times, 

were comfortably

the same.

The funeral service ended and I began the walk to

the neighboring cemetery where another aunt, uncle,

and cousin are buried.  

It was at this point that I was flooded with a very

intense feeling of yearning for my parents. 

I could visualize them walking with us, among my family

members, arm in arm, my father's white hair gleaming

in the sunshine.

I was grieving my parents, but this was definitely nothing 

like the grief I felt during the days and months following

their deaths.  Then, my grief was tempered by the knowledge

that they were no longer in pain, or distracted by my concern

for the surviving parent.

Now, I was just missing them.

Intensely.  

I cried, but it actually felt good.

I welcomed it.

I felt close to them.

It's so easy living in Connecticut to go through my days

without many reminders of my parents.  There are times

that I get the urge to pick up the phone and call my Mom.

Or times that I wish I could call my Dad and get his

advice on how to fix little things around the house.

But I have never experienced grief like this before.

My life continues without them,

but they are not only with me still,

they are inside me:

My mother's sense of humor and compassion.

My father's creativity and patience.

I expected to reconnect with family at this funeral.
And I did reconnect, but in ways I never expected.

Grief is just like love.

It evolves over time,

and 

it never goes away.