Tag: loss

The Clarity Of Impermanence

The Clarity Of Impermanence

I hadn’t seen Steve in quite a while. We grew up in the same neighborhood, a bunch of us kids enamored with hockey and The Three Stooges. We all knew him as Zig, a nickname my older brother had endowed upon him. I never asked why. Life eventually took all of us in different directions until the unexpected reunion of us neighborhood kids at Steve’s wake.

Losing a friend hits differently. I’ve lost both of my parents, and as painful as their passings were and at times continue to be, I’ve come to accept the inevitable progression of children eventually burying their parents. But there is no natural expected progression when losing someone your own age.

Seeing Steve for the last time brought back a plethora of happy memories of my childhood. I could see all of us again as we once were. 

And now one of us was no longer here. 

There was a sense of randomness about his passing. As if it could have been any one of us who was no longer here. It was in that randomness I felt the uncomfortable presence of Continue reading “The Clarity Of Impermanence” →

Turkeys, Trees, and The Tradition Of Pain

Turkeys, Trees, and The Tradition Of Pain

There’s nothing like the smell of chicken hearts and gizzards boiling in a sauce pan on the stove.

Deb is a holiday traditionalist. And one of her most important Thanksgiving traditions is making her Mom’s stuffing. It’s become a more significant tradition now that her Mom is no longer able to celebrate the holiday with her. For years they’d gather the day before Thanksgiving to combine the bread and the meat and the spices and, yes, the boiled chicken hearts and gizzards, and create a staple of their holiday meal.

It was more than just making stuffing. It was a bond between mother and daughter forged in the ritual of perpetuating a very important tradition.

Beautiful.

Yet, now bittersweet.

Sometimes the holidays can be quite painful. T’is not always the season to be jolly. Loss and emptiness can be excruciatingly magnified at a time of expected joy and glee. We’ve all experienced our own form of hurt, longing for what once was, longing for what never was, now seasonally contrasted against the backdrop of all things shiny and bright.

I think back to some of the more traumatic events in my life, wounds annually reopening as I balance my own levels of bitter and sweet this time of year. I think of friends and their childhood traumas and how their inner pain silently crushes their holiday spirit, no matter how much they may be smiling on the Continue reading “Turkeys, Trees, and The Tradition Of Pain” →

Owning The Emptiness and The Permission To Grieve

Owning The Emptiness and The Permission To Grieve

Who knew that turkey gravy could be an emotional trigger?

My mom elevated turkey gravy to unprecedented levels. Flour, drippings, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Pure magic.

I could drink her gravy by the bowl.

These days, making the gravy is my responsibility. Even with the same ingredients, try as I might I’ve yet to replicate her level of mastery. Maybe it’s a Mom thing?

This past Thanksgiving was the second one without Mom. She had long retired from cooking on Thanksgiving, but now she is no longer at the table with us.

I always think of her when I make the gravy. I can still see her at the stove with the metal whisk in her hand effortlessly beating the ingredients into a cohesive submission as the flames danced up the sides of the sauce pan. Not a measuring spoon in sight. She just knew.

It’s always an emotional time for me.

It’s a process, grieving is. A personal process. A non-linear often unpredictable process, often without an end date.

Often processed alone.

There is no one “right” way to grieve. No one “right” way to get to the other side of the pain. I’m not even sure if there is another side to get to.

Often we don’t understand why the hurt still hurts, why the emptiness still feels so empty. Especially when we try to convince Continue reading “Owning The Emptiness and The Permission To Grieve” →