It's 3 years ago today that I lost my mom, yet it seems like a lifetime ago that she was with me. I keep asking myself, how is that even remotely possible?
All I can think is that a big part of me somehow split off, while the remainder was left to process the deep grief of no longer having her in my life.
This big part is the one that's always looked to shift and grow into the person I am underneath it all and not to cling to old ideas that I have of myself. The same one that occasionally requires me to feel nauseous in order to shake me out of an impending rut.
But that doesn't mean my mom isn't baked into my heart and soul forever and with me every second of the day, whether in the back of my mind, or when I see an exquisite butterfly while hiking, or when I use a major vocab word in conversation (how about ostentatious!) or use an adorable phrase she would have spoken (a total Marie-ism).
It feels right that the anniversary of her death coincides with the autumnal equinox, which is symbolically the time of death, which of course also signifies rebirth.
This is what we have a chance to do every day. Die to who we think we are and be reborn. Into what? Maybe a better version of ourselves, more in touch with who we really are and what we want. More real. More alive (there's that magnificent word again).
One thing I'll always think of when she comes to mind is love. It's always been about that, in whatever form you can find it…especially in the memory of a shy, happy smile belonging to the woman who taught me how to love.
P.S. Here's one of Marie's favorite salads.