Thoughts on Loss and Healing

As you most likely know by now, the catalyst for the years of depression and ultimate decision to change the way I lived my life was the loss of my mother, Carole in 2010.


With the tragic news of the shooting in Connecticut today, dealing with the loss of loved ones is very present. I, in no way, mean to compare the sudden and tragic loss for those families to my own. But my heart is heavy today, and I don't think it is an accurate portrayal of life to write exclusively about the good days. 



When talking about healing, I will never say that the pain goes away completely. Some days it feels just as raw as it did soon after she was gone. In the mail today, I received from my Aunt a cloth that my mother had embroidered with poinsettias and the words "Merry Christmas". This simple piece of cloth brought me to tears. To hold something in my hand that she had so obviously labored over and been proud of, something I didn't even knew existed until today, made me feel close to her again for the first time in a long time. Touching the stitching was to almost feel her hands as they worked their labor of love. She loved Christmas, and that love was passed on to me. The holiday makes me think of her and smile at the memory of the joy she got from the twinkling Christmas lights and the carolers (to which she related her moniker). But I also find it difficult to continue celebrating the holiday the way our family used to. Without her as part of it, it is sometimes hard for me to remember the point of celebrating it; any holiday, really. But that's not the way she would want it. Not only because of her unwavering faith, but because she would not want to be the cause of our loss of joy.

In the mail today, I also received a keyboard that I ordered last week. One day I was listening to a classical piano piece I had once taught myself to play and it suddenly lit a fire inside me to play again. And I said, "why not?" So I found the cheapest decent one I could find on Amazon and ordered it the next day. My mom always wished she'd learned to play the piano as well as her mother and she encouraged me to take lessons as a child. I obliged her for a few years, but soon gave it up, frustrated that I was not an overnight virtuoso. I like to think that she would be overjoyed to see me playing again.

So this season, I'm working on bringing back the traditions that my mother loved so dearly to keep her memory close and to allow the joy back into the holiday. And I'm saying "why not" to challenges that I want to conquer, because who says I can't teach myself to play the piano in my 30's?

I hope all of you who have been touched by loss and tragedy will find peace this holiday season.