oh, what a beautiful mourning!

Throughout my childhood & adulthood, a primary message received from Mom was that sadness was a negative feeling, an emotion to be ignored dodged denied, at all costs.  I remember Dad crying after Ian died - not Mom.  She was in a semi-catatonic state after Dad died, sitting for days in the brown reclining chair in the living room that she'd given him a few years earlier, but she didn't break down in tears, at least not around me.  

Twenty-five years after his passing, I finally asked Mom about her apparent lack of visible grief over the loss of the love of her life, her heart partner.  Can still see her, sitting on the edge of her bed, in her bedroom at 2501 Woodland Road, as she answered, "I didn't want you girls to know how torn apart I was.  If you had known the depth of my grief, you might never have wanted to fall in love, might never have wanted to leave yourself that vulnerable."

Being me, I pressed her - "Did YOU regret leaving yourself vulnerable?  Isn't that part of what we sign on for whenever we love someone?"  She looked at me like I was from another planet.  

Years later, she wrote about the power of grief.  I guess we'd continued the conversation about her response to Dad & Ian's deaths over the years, culminating in the world's response to Diana's.  Perhaps Mom's most amazing trait was her willingness to see things in a new light, even things contrary to long-held beliefs & attitudes. This quality was always there, waiting to be nurtured.  Got plenty of nurturing after I married John & Mom could see that it could be safe to talk about dicey issues & "red flag" topics that she once waved off as inherently dangerous.

There is beauty to mourning.  Several years ago, I called a very good acquaintance in whom I had utter trust & asked if I could come over for a good cry.  (Elsa, the Always Practical)  Had come to a heart-ripping realization about Mom's unstated but conveyed relationship with me & knew it was essential to express grief over the inescapable AH HA! insight, knew that my close friends might not understand the use of grieving, knew instinctively who would - beyond my expectation - grasp.  

There are things - like that beyond-sad awareness - that need to be mourned.  Ignored or denied, they lodge, festering, in our heart.  Once acknowledged respected honored for a period, we can give thanks for any fresh insights they brought & then reverently set them aside.