What seems like forever ago I wrote about how grief is like a ninja. . What I meant by that is that once you have loss in your life, you never know when it might jump out from behind a corner and ninja kick you in the face. This doesn’t mean that you aren’t living life to the fullest and worshiping God with your life, it just meant that you loved someone who isn’t on earth anymore and when you are reminded of that, it can cause pain.
I have been ninja kicked a lot lately, and I think that this season of my life grief isn’t so much like a ninja but an Italian mob lackey in a pinstriped suit standing in the corner. He has sunglasses on and he had a chest the size of a Volkswagen. Every so often he just nods, walks over to me as I am chopping peppers in the kitchen and knees me in the gut. You know for good measure.
You see right now my grief feels palpable. It’s right there, and it may take an afternoon break but it always pops back up and my mood falls as my insides seem to sink to the floor. My mom walked out in front of a train last year, and that is now a painful part of my story.
I suck at self care, and as much as I encourage other people to take space and time to sort through painful loss I am really bad at doing it for myself. I confessed to my husband this morning that I really felt like if I enter into the grief season right now our little world would fall apart and I would be letting everyone down. So I don’t always practice what I preach, I’m just that human.
But even though it will result in a huge mess I am going to “go there.” I am going to remember who happened last October and I am going to remind myself of who my Mother was. I am going to try to cling to the good parts and separate her from her illness. I am going to start to be okay with some of the ways that I am like her and not see them as ugly spots on my life.
Because even though she and my Dad are both gone now, I am their daughter. A piece of them that can still speak to this world. And speak I shall, so take that mobster.