Deeply Wounded + Immensely Grateful

It has been a month since my mom suddenly passed away. The world is very different from here.

It was a shock for my family because there wasn’t much sign of anything. One moment she was in good health busy with her passion projects and daily routines - the next she was in a coma at the hospital on life support. It was a severe brain aneurism, and although machines could keep her alive, that’s not what she wanted. So we let her go.

I feel as if I’ve lived thousands of years and several lifetimes in this one month.

I wrote one friend:

I have been in touch with my mother’s soul throughout the process. Which assures me she is well and all is well. My human self is just sad and grieving and waves of it move through me day by day, moment by moment. Surrounded by other times of feeling otherwise normal, with maybe a heightened sensitivity. I just don’t care about things the way I used to. At the same time I care even more. I feel immensely grateful and deeply wounded at the same time.

At the same time.

Grounded in my self and my sense of divine perfection and knowing everything is absolutely ok. And crushed and lost and lonely and sad and missing her all together at the same time.

I flew back to New York to be with my family. I stopped working on my businesses. I stopped posting on social media. I started listening intently.

I knew from experience and from my work as a healer that if I avoided or pushed away or tried to bypass any of this grief or shock or worry or anger or sorrow that it would get stuck somewhere in my system and body and it would bring disease now or later and take even longer to move through. I knew if I just let it be here and flow through me like the wind through the trees - like clouds through the sky - they would show themselves and be felt intensely - like summer thunderstorms - and then pass on and through in their time.

I knew that no emotion, however intense, can overwhelm or overpower who I truly am.

So I stopped everything except the essentials. And I started breathing. Feeling. Allowing my own grief, my timing. Showing up for my family. And showing up for myself more than ever before.

In this month of thousands of years I have and am still receiving so much. Masters, healers, inner guidance and a deep unshakeable connection with truth have been my spine. The mountains, the land, the waters, the sun and earth my legs and feet. Time and space my body, kindness and gentleness my hands. Wise and caring friends my shoulders. I rest my face on my cat’s belly and listen to her purr. My heart is sore and sometimes light, sometimes heavy, and so very open. Cracked open.

Slowly they are dawning on me. The gifts my mother passed on to me with her life, her special presence, her love. The profound gifts she gave even in the way she passed. There is an immense gratitude and quiet strength that is dawning, a subtle change in all of me and the way I see the world.

Mom,

I miss you. I love you. I am here.