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.
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.
