My Inner Worlds
Over the past two years Matt and I lost a lot—many people worldwide have suffered tragedy, so this isn't a surprise. As a snapshot: we lost our two canine children, two cars, a house…and my mom. Our furry friends were a blow to our hearts, we adjusted to the physical assets, but my mom still has me grasping for a way to frame the life I’ve known as Sarah.
I was a daughter first. Mom went through so much to bring me into this world (insert “almost died”). Dad was the first person to hold me in an unexpected home delivery with no medical support. My second day of life introduced my older sister and brother. Ahhh…so I’m a sibling, too…not to mention a granddaughter to those supportive adults who surrounded me for pictures and snuggles.
Through life I took on new roles and identities. A student, a friend, a laborer to earn money for education after high school. A girlfriend, a lover, a wife, and finally a mom to her own version of children — five beautiful dogs who had their own personalities during the short years that are allotted to them.
But my first role of daughter stuck in ways I never anticipated until Mom passed last November. I won’t belabor mother-daughter issues — you can read about my feelings of our relationship in this post I wrote five years ago. Mom was in a facility for seven years where she could live safely with Alzheimer’s disease. I truly thought her passing would not affect me other than a few tears and moving on.
It’s five months later. Mom’s memorial service will be held in two days and I’m spinning with grief. My mental concept of losing a closed loved one did NOT take emotions into consideration. My body has a completely different idea about this relationship.
The morning Mom transitioned I had an incredible bedside experience that I’ll share at a later time. My sister Cheryl called me at 7AM on November 15 to say, “This is the call.” I burst into tears even though I had expected this, was even grateful that Mom no longer suffered, passing less than one day after the last of her children said goodbye to her. But wow, it punched me.
For almost a week it felt like something important had been jerked out of the middle of my body. I’d like to say that I immediately thought of the umbilical cord my body shared with Mom for over nine months, but it took a little longer than that. Energy work and awareness of our energetic bodies has been a part of my life for over twenty-five years. But it never clicked that I had an unseen umbilical cord still attached to my mother.
As part of my grieving and healing, I fell into a new artistic hobby of painting kindness rocks. While Mom lived I never developed my drawing or painting skills because I had so many siblings who are incredibly talented in that area. I chose to focus on other skills. But I’ve chosen to learn a new art form with Mom at my side.
The rocks aren’t all that beautiful at first glance, but the love and mother-daughter connection put into each of these works of art are priceless to me. These rocks will be my memorial gift for everyone who attends Mom’s celebration of life. And knowing that only I can appreciate some of them, I have a place in my Mom Memorial Garden where they can find their forever home and the love a mother will give.