Heavy

I woke up this morning just before a storm rolled in. The sky was swollen and gray and the air heavy. It's the kind of day that is perfect for being quiet. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed and a siren wailed in the distance. The lights flickered and all three cats were on high alert, but I felt a peace in my bones. I am a pluviophile to my core. They settled when they felt my vibe. I threw my hair in a bun, put on my favorite sweatshirt that happens to say weekend vibes despite the fact it's Tuesday, and found my most lived in jeans. Comfort was my goal. 

I skipped my lemon water and went straight to coffee. I sipped it in solitude as I waited out the driving rain. This weekend we celebrated my dad turning 75. Tomorrow my mom would be 74. This is a tricky stretch for me every year filled with highs and lows. I honor them all. We feel pain so we can know joy. We experience loss and then learn to hold our loved ones closer. We laugh, we cry, we hurt, we heal, we give, we take, we question, we answer and at the end of it all that is life. To know one is to know the other.

I've been so wrapped up in the chaos of moving two kids to college that September's focus was on a different kind of grief. And also relief. Usually, Labor day passes and I start to feel laden with so much emotion. The totality of my mom's last month 14 years ago has left me with deep samskaras. The muscle memory is powerful. The heart is a muscle after all.

Dare I say I almost felt a tinge of guilt that I wasn't sad enough. Just writing this I know how ridiculous I sound. I miss my mom every day. I have been dreaming about her every night lately. Those muscles again. I know she is with me and a part of every experience I have. And I know she wants me to celebrate life not belabor her death.

Lord knows, I will die trying.