Remembering

Three years.

It doesn't seem possible for this length of time to have elapsed since my stepmom's home-going.  So much has unfolded without her here to witness.  Still, she lives on in my stored memory and the tangible objects which grace my home.  A dish from the cupboard or recipe from her cookbook speak of the art of cooking scrumptious meals she was so well known for.  A jewelry piece reflects her love of bling and the strikingly stylish way about her.  I suspect I have enough of her stickers to decorate my own cards ad infinitum.  Seaton already uses some, and I imagine Nika, born on her great Nana's birthday, will one day find great delight in them as well.  

It's not uncommon for me to hear her voice in my mind, approving, or not, of something I have done, clothing I purchase, décor I create.  I imagine her queries and outspokenness, her expressive body language and grandiose laughter.  I picture her impeccable handwriting and the lavish table spread she would set out.

Carol Crandell wisely said, "You don't heal from the loss of a loved one because time passes, you heal because of what you do with the time."

My grief was complicated.  Perhaps everyone feels this way but with their own nuances.  Our relationship had broken places.  Rivers of healing had poured over us throughout the years and we gratefully lived it.  And....there remained cracks where the healing waters seeped through.  Investing time and energy to peer into the murkiness and name what I found, has brought fresh healing.  I had wanted more for us.  Feasibly, she did as well.  Today I am largely at peace on this journey, a grace of God.

I'm of the opinion that grief's journey has no end.  It ebbs and flows.  It's quieter, until it's not.  I expect there will be waves that come and go, based on seasons of life, around me and within.  Today, the waters are still...serene.  

Three years.