The mentor I never wanted to be

In life we are either students or teachers. Sometimes we are both and often times, both at the same time.

When I started this blog I knew I wanted to share. I also knew this would take some major courage and vulnerability. You can’t have one without the other. What I shared was to be determined, and I figured I would take it as it comes. So, here I am…

Just a few months back I was driving home from my nieces graduation, having an in depth conversation with my mom. That’s when it hit me. This, this is where I start. With that conversation and on that drive, is where I decided it was finally time to take the leap and start writing.

In January I lost my dad, the first man I ever loved. Something I have in common with a lot of people. My mom lost her husband, something we now have in common. 3.5 months shy of their 51st wedding anniversary. I lost Jeff, my husband, over 10 years ago. See, all those years ago I wanted to know someone, anyone I could talk with or that could relate to me so I knew I wasn’t going crazy. At the same time, I never wanted anyone I knew to experience what I was experiencing. Being able to be that person for my mom is a gift for both of us. Regardless of the fact that even if I don’t have the answers, at least I have the truth. Sometimes there are no answers. I can promise you that nothing will prepare you for how hard this shit is. Before my dad died, I remember talking with my mom and her comparing whether or not it was easier to be prepared when someone is dying or if them going with no preparation was easier. Jeff died in his sleep, my dad lost a 2 year battle with cancer. Looking at my mom with tears in my eyes, my answer was instant. She felt that at least when you know your love was dying, you have the opportunity to say goodbye. I disagreed. My opinion of course, but hear me out. The utter shock and devastation when someone you love dies is brutal no matter how you look at it. Watching someone you love die a little bit every day is so much worse. I learned something all those years ago, if you show someone you love them every single day, you don’t have to say goodbye. It took me some time to truly understand that. Now more than ever, I know it. Especially after watching my dad lose his battle with this disease.

My entire life my mom has been my mentor, even still to this day. With this, our roles have reversed. Never did I think I would be giving advice on how to grieve your husband to my mom, while grieving the loss of my dad no less. But here we are, and this is exactly where we are supposed to be. The conversation that prompted me to share made me realize, I get to be the person to my mom that I searched for all those years ago, to the best of my ability. As we left the graduation and began our drive my mom asked “How long does it feel like this? The sadness that comes in waves out of no where”. I didn’t have the exact answer, I still don’t. But I had honesty. I told her, the feelings of sadness never go away. Over time you learn to cope with them. To say it gets easier isn’t completely true. Sadness finds space in your heart to sit side by side with all the love. The love you had and still have for them. The depth of love you feel for everyone else in your life. They all reside together. Your heart expands beyond anything you can imagine. I then reminded her what she told me when Jeff died, “Allow yourself to feel everything. Feel every emotion as it comes, sit with it and then let it go.” It might suck while it comes up, definitely while you’re in it, but I promise you it’s better than shoving it down only to have it pop up with a vengeance later.

A quote by Jamie Anderson describes it perfectly “Grief I’ve learned, is really love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot give. The more you loved someone, the more you grieve. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes and in that part of your chest that gets empty and hollow feeling. The happiness of love turns to sadness when unspent. Grief is just love with no place to go”.