A Walk with Mom

Last week when the rain was finishing up, the Mr and I thought it was time we got back to taking a walk.  In addition to everything going on with Mom, the Mr also had varicose vein surgery during that time and this was the first time he would be able to walk.  We weren't going to put pressure on ourselves.  We knew our previous four lap usual was likely out of the question so we said anything two or more would be fine.  It felt good to be outside as the rain turned to mist.  The Mr said maybe there was a metaphor in there somewhere about walking after the rain.  I'm sure there is to some, I just know my body needed to be outside while it wasn't over 85 degrees so I was going to take the short window we had.

We'd walked here only 6 weeks ago regularly between the dying of the spring flowers and flop sweat heat of summer.  So much had happened in that time and our world is never going to be the same.  As we talked about Mom a little, it seemed everything caught my eye.  I was looking at the world through new eyes; her eyes to some degree.  We were enjoying something she couldn't and that's not just because she was gone.  Even when she was alive, she had lymphedema for many decades which made walking tough for her.  She had a walker and a cane but with bone on bone knees, a leisurely stroll wasn't something she could really do.  So I enjoyed it enough for both of us.

Her favorite color, purple.

No idea WTF this is but I noticed it.

More purple for her.

Rushing streams which very much felt like what we were walking against every day for 30 days.

More purple with another pale lavender bloom.

The earliest fiery signs of an impending season change.  How appropriate.

Some may mistake this walk, noticing this beauty around us, as a reason to exhale.  

"Oh good, she's feeling better!"  

No.  

There are simply moments in the pain where the clouds lift just long enough to show some light to your newly darkened world.  You can choose to take in those moments or not.  It's not a step back to "normalcy" because that no longer exists.  Nothing will ever be the same.  That park will likely always be there waiting on us when we choose to walk it.  To soak in the rain, to hear the laughter of a child trying to catch frogs or fish in their net, or to pass people walking to their own soundtrack in their heads whether they're out for exercise or fighting their own invisible battle inside like we are.  I'm grateful we took the time and I'm glad to share this place with her in a way I couldn't when she was here.  It was nice walking with you, Mom.  I love and miss you every second.

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If you or someone you know is going through a grief process, you may find these resources given to me by a friend helpful:

Crisis Text Line or text 741741

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (or call 988)

Speak Grief

Heal Grief

Books I'm currently reading:

It's OK That You're Not OK (Meeting Grief & Loss in a Culture that Doesn't Understand)

How to Carry What Can't Be Fixed

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