I know it is a standard question between people as we greet one another, but I struggle with how to answer that question these days. The honest answer is, “Not very well, you see my world burned down about 6 weeks ago and I’m left with this gaping hole in the middle of my life that could swallow up me and my family at any time.” That is kind of a conversation killer, so I usually just say, “Hanging in there.” And we nod and move on.
Through losing my mom, It has been glaringly apparent that we are terrible at grieving in America 2023. Nobody knows what to say, so many times they say nothing at all. I will admit that has surprised me a bit. It seems especially when it’s so simple to send a text or a quick Facebook message that it shouldn’t be so hard to find a few words to say to ease the pain. While silence from some corners of my life has surprised me, I have learned in a powerful way, that the right people will find you. The angels are there! I have been deeply moved by people from unexpected corners of my life who have reached out in sincere love and concern to share advice, offer love or a prayer, or just to say, “I’m thinking about you.” People from all walks of life, some I’ve known well, some from days long past, and others who didn’t know me at all…they have found me. I will never be able to adequately express my gratitude for all those little reminders of the goodness that surrounds me and my family.
It is also apparent that our culture doesn’t have much patience for those who are grieving. I think the norm is that someone passes away early in the week, funeral is held on Friday or Saturday, and everyone is back to work the following Monday. WHAT?!? I just can’t fathom how we operate like that. I realize that the world keeps turning, bills need to be paid, staying busy keeps your mind off things….etc. etc. But there was a point historically where people dressed in black for two years to signal they had suffered a profound loss. Two years!! And we just go back to work in a week and carry on? Here at six weeks on, I am still moving unpredictably between numbness and disbelief, sobbing uncontrollably for a good long stretch, total brain fog, and feeling like I can never do enough to honor my mother so I had better get going with things. All of those moods can occur within 10 seconds, then boomerang back through them in a different order, and I am just not okay! Instability with my emotions is the norm right now. I recognize it, and I’m trying to stand in those moments and work through them. <note to an impatient world…it’s going to be awhile…chill out>
I have been extremely fortunate to have stayed with my dad during this period following Mom’s death. That sweet dad of mine loved Celia with his whole heart for 65 years of his life. It was a heartbreak I can never put into words to watch the two of them maneuver through her diagnosis, her illness, and her passing in such a short amount of time. They have always challenged each other in such beautiful and important ways, so to watch their life’s dance change to the knowledge of separation and loss…I just will never be the same after witnessing it. There is pain in this life that defies description, and the final days between them gutted us all.
So how are we doing? Dad and I have walked the beach 1000 times over these days with an exuberant dog in the lead. Sometimes we talk, and sometimes we just walk in silence. At night, we sit out under the stars and talk about the constellations and the moon. Mom is in every moment with us. Sometimes as a comforting presence, but also reminding us how much we miss her. The loneliness and longing for a hug or her laugh…anything tangible…it’s still so overwhelming. As we move past this really early stage of raw emotion, I hope that we are able to find our bearings. Our return to the SnowDak will mark the first time that Dad and I have separated since Mom’s initial diagnosis. I imagine that is going to have super effects on my already unstable emotions!
If you run into me or my Dad in the coming days, feel free to offer up hugs and “It’s good to see you” messages. Please don’t be alarmed if I burst into tears with no warning. <dad will play it cool…me, not so much> We need your patience while we sort through losing this woman who was the center of our universe. Thank you to our angels who love and lift us in such beautiful ways. We are new to this journey and need your wisdom to get us through the rough spots that still seem to come so often. I pray the day will eventually come when you can ask, “How are you doing?” and we can say, “we have found peace.”
To Live In This World... 
Should’ve left my rambling message here!
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Rambles are welcome anywhere, Renee. Love you! ❤️
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Yes, grief is a personal. Let no one tell you how to do it. Years later I still find things that I think, “Oh Dad will love that, I’ll have to remember to tell him.” and then I remember he’s no longer on this plane…and then I think, “I guess he already knows.” 🙂
Lots of love to you and your family on your journey.
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Those are such hard moments! I completely feel that. I went to call my mom last week, then remembered I couldn’t, and ended up calling one of her best friends and sobbing on the phone. It’s so strange to not just talk to them like always…I will have to make the adjustment to ‘she already knows’ 🤍🙏
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Thanks Beth for these deep and reflective words on grief and grieving. Eager to share hugs and stories in person this spring sometime, when I’m traveling back through SD.
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We definitely need some time with you and the Miner siblings! I look forward to lots of hugs, tears, and recounting happier times with you! ❤️
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Beth, you have such a wonderful command of words, and a way to express yourself like nobody else that I’ve known. You have spoken simply, and yet profoundly living through my grief of losing my daughter, and never finding words to express myself adequately it seems like such a miracle, the grief can be explained so thoroughly and yet so simply. 25 years later after losing Samantha people will now come up to me and tell me that they just had no idea what to say or when to say it or how to say it that they thought about us we’re praying for us and tried to silently love us through it. I remember driving alone in a car. I would ball so uncontrollably and have to get out and go to work or get out and go to church or get out and go to the grocery store. It seem like our life didn’t make much sense people would say that they didn’t want to say anything because they didn’t want to bring us down again because we looked OK at the moment and my thoughts were I just need a hug I need someone else to acknowledge my loss whether it was the first time I saw you since her passing or the 200th. I fellow mankind gives so little grace to each other. I think it was about two years of my life that I don’t remember after losing her.
I love you all dearly. My thoughts and prayers are truly with you when you get back let’s hang let’s walk let’s cry let’s morning let’s laugh and rain remember our good times together. I love you.
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Love you, dear Julia. You are one of those angels that has taught me so much about grief and grace. I will never forget one of our conversations years ago about sweet Samantha and you described how you craved her…like an addiction, and you had no idea how to fill that need. I’m exactly there right now with my own feelings, and your words gave me insight and comfort. I’m so grateful for you. Would love to sit together and laugh, cry, and everything in between. We will do it soon! 🤍🙏
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💔 The scars on our hearts never go away, I think. I know it happens to us all eventually but it doesn’t make it easier. And you are so right. The world moves on and it is maddening and cruel. Love to all.
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I hate that you have the insight and wisdom, but I am so grateful that you share that with us. Love you, dear friend. Thank you for always showing up in such important ways! ❤️
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Such powerful words. So relatable and yet so hard to read because they are so true. The journey through grief is both universal and as singular as it gets, and I never realized how easy it is to clear a room than to begin talking about loss. Our culture has a hard time with it for sure – so for your words, and your ability to share such a personal and profound loss, I am grateful more than you know. Sending you peace, hope and healing.
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Yes! People are really quick to walk away from the conversation if you actually say how you feel. I totally see that! We just seem so poorly equipped to deal with the painful parts of life. Thank you for your insights and your love! We appreciate it so very much. ❤️
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I wish I did know what to say … but I do know this, I will sit in the room with you and hold your hand, and drink some coffee, and make you a sandwich, and take a walk with you, and you don’t have to say a thing. Just know you are loved and held and accepted in whatever condition the grief holds you.
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Oh Debbi. I have no words because I know your own grief at losing Celia is so overwhelming. She loved you so dearly! We need to all sit together and cry and toast to the beautiful moments we had with her. Thank you for being there for us…and always, always for her. 🥹🤍
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What I often saying to grieving people (what I’ve said to my own grief) is, “There are no words.” There is nothing I can say or do that will erase one iota of pain and anger and loneliness and anguish. We are faced with the great Abyss of Sorrow which yawns ahead through the rest of our lives. But I will also always say, “We love you.” “We miss her terribly.” “The world is empty without her.” And then I turn to Donne or Camus who are Masters of Words of Grief. Reread “The Plague”. Rer
ead Kate Chopin’s “The Awakening.” Reread Faulkner’s “As I Lay Dying.” Listen to Elgar’s Cello Concerto. Listen to Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. In the face of despair, the human spirit crawls out of the depths of debilitating pain to find a way to put one foot in front of the other.
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Mary Pat…you always have the right words, and I cannot adequately express my gratitude for how you have loved us through all of this. I remember that morning early in all of this when you showed up with some Ann Patchett to share with Mom…and it was a rough day…and I was just so grateful that it was you who was there with us on a rough day. Thank you for your insights and words, and thank you for loving us in such beautiful ways. 🥹🤍🙏
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