A YEAR IN THE LIFE

People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive.  We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future.  It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance. 

~Marcel Proust~

This has been a year of journeys. Some good, some bad. It’s been the most emotionally complicated year of my life, and should I be fortunate enough to live another day I will not be sorry when 2010 arrives. My life has changed in ways I never could have anticipated. I view the world differently; I worry less and sleep better. My only real objective is to be as connected as I can to the core of my life’s purpose and to whatever or whomever guides me on that path.

I still have many, many times when the tears come and I feel as though I may not ever be able to stop feeling sad. I know this year is only the first of many without her, and I hope I can look back and know that this first year was the hardest.

This blog has been an amazing part of my life. Some of my oldest friends have learned more about my mother than they ever knew when she was alive. I’ve connected with new friends who know what the word grief really means.  My mother’s impact on this world continues to grow through all of my readers’ experiences with these posts. It has been the story of a year in the life of me, a motherless daughter.

This blog has more than 25,000 words. The page has been viewed 2,044 times.

The year has come and gone, not all at once but in small moments and difficult days.

Hardest day: Her birthday.

Day that surprised me because it was easier than I thought it would be: Mother’s Day.

Day that surprised me because it was harder than I thought it would be: Christmas 2009.

What I miss most: Cooking with her.

Most scary/surreal moment: Sitting in my apartment trying to remember whether or not I’d imagined the whole thing, and for a few moments really not being sure. I thought I might actually be losing my mind.

Most memorable moment: Getting home from the hospital on December 19, 2008, writing her obituary and crying myself to sleep.

Most peaceful moment:  Standing at her grave in 2009.

What happens from here, no one knows. Least of all me. Nothing is guaranteed, and nothing should be taken for granted. The only thing I know for certain is that I will miss and love my mother every day for the rest of my life, and can humbly say I am a better human being for having known her.

This will be the last entry in this blog. Thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for being a part of this year, and for sharing your comments and prayers with me. In all things and in all ways, may your lives be replete with joy and peace. 

Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life.

~John Muir~

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