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I am happy to be writing this blog from Florida! My family is on a spring break trip. We have four teenagers with us. We enjoy gifting kids with fun experiences. My family sometimes takes trips to places I want to go to (because I am the one planning them), but sometimes we take trips that our kids would have fun with. This is one of those trips. We are missing our oldest son, however, who couldn’t come along because his college cancelled spring break. It isn’t the same without him.

The area we are in isn’t too strict on masks we have noticed. This suits us perfectly. My husband and I aren’t overly afraid of Covid. We do wear a mask in public places and we do wash our hands purposely and often. We encourage our kids to do the same. But we don’t let Covid run our lives. I know everyone handles it differently. We are right at home in this Covid lax atmosphere.

March 13

Last year at this time we also spent the week in Florida. We left the day after my friend Lori died. She died on March 13, 2020. Her husband encouraged us to still take our vacation, and I am so glad we did. But leaving less than 24 hours after her death felt wrong, awkward and inconsiderate. As hard as that was, it turns out it wasn’t the hardest part.

I think of Lori so much down here because she is mostly what consumed my vacation thoughts last year. When I walk on the beach as I do several times a day, I think of her last week on earth. When the waves crash on the shore and cover my toes, I remember the intense sorrow for her kids. As I look out into the watery horizon, I feel the fear of losing someone close to me. I even saw her in my dream last night. Maybe it will always be this way when I walk on the beach. I sure don’t mind if it is.

Moving On With Life?

Continuing my earlier thought, harder than leaving on vacation the day after Lori died was trying to find a new normal after the funeral. She had been a great friend to me. She got me, or at least accepted me as I am. As I’ve mentioned in a past blog, obviously I COULD carry on, but it sure didn’t feel right. I spent a lot of time with her over the years since she lived two houses down from me. I ran over there for the simplest reasons- to bring some bars over, to show her a new shirt I bought, to get her opinion on some curtains, to borrow an ingredient. You know, all the important things in life.

And in her last few months of life, I stopped by almost daily just to get my Lori fix. And because I felt she counted on me to be there for her. Which I was thrilled to do.

But how would life go now that she is gone? I could visit her family, but would they get sick of frequent stop overs? What would I talk about so often with them? Do they need me like she did? Like everyone else, I worried about her husband and her kids while I grieved her loss. These situations don’t come with manuals. So we all just took it day by day.

First Year Without Her

Lots of firsts crept by that first year of course. First Mother’s Day, family trip to Colorado, beginning of the school year, Lori’s birthday, Christmas. In addition to missing her terribly, I think about Lori with every event and my heart breaks for her family. Seems so needless for a 50 year old mother to leave her family so soon. And not right for these occasions to keep coming around without her.

Her husband has stopped by our house here and there to chat, which we welcome gladly. He still does. We do our best to be a support and a presence to fall back on. He knows we haven’t agreed with a lot of his decisions over the last year, but we agree to disagree. He will go on with his plans and we will still be his friend. For Lori, for her kids, for him. Maybe I will write more about that sometime. And maybe not. 🙂

So, a year without Lori two doors down came to a close on March 13. As those of you who know about loss can attest, it still hurts. It still hurts our neighborhood, our church, her family, my heart. As a neighbor and friend, I don’t think even I realized how much of a void she would leave. Her family must feel that void ten fold. I look forward to seeing her again someday.

March 17

St. Patrick’s Day is a day I will never really celebrate. I don’t mind if other people love it, but it will forever be the day I lost my mom.

In 2006 she died at age 55. So much of Lori’s last year seemed so reminiscent of my mom’s last year. The last time she would get a treatment. The hours and hours spent in a recliner. A picture of her with a cake on her last earthly birthday. This year it will be 15 years since my mom died, and Lori’s situation made it feel like yesterday.

First Year Fog

The first year without my mom I just seemed to go through the motions. My eyes could see that the weather was beautiful, but I couldn’t feel it in my mind or heart. I recall going to Lori’s house for one of her kid’s birthday parties. But it felt like I just sat and stared until it was done, and then I gathered my kids and went home. I remember constantly feeling like I just need to get away and be alone, a feeling my husband resented. Grief is sneaky and unpredictable. You never know what it might make you feel from one moment to the next.

I remember not really knowing my place. I was the only female left in my immediate family. Do I need to care for my dad through my own grief? Should I plan family gatherings? Provide all the food? Make sure all the grandkids get birthday gifts? How would I be as a mom when I don’t have my own mom to guide me? How would I get little details from when I was young to compare to my own kids? When did I walk, talk, get teeth? The only person to know those things was gone. It felt very empty and I felt ill equipped. As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry about my dad that first year, so to speak. He didn’t want help from family.

Lost Dad Along with Mom

My dad reacted sadly. He didn’t want to have much to do with us, his kids, and sought solace in the wrong things. There was just no getting through to him no matter how much we tried to talk with him. A veil seemed to cloud his vision and create a divider between him and the world around him, including his family. After a couple of years, he seemed to come around a little. But he is a different person, never again to be the same man he was with my mom. Which makes since I guess.

And in this situation too, we had no manual. We just tried our best to take care of ourselves and get my dad whatever help he would accept, which was minimal.

First Year Lessons

I think with time throughout that first year, a person is able to recognize joy in the little things of life again. She might not feel it, but can recognize that it exists, which brings a tad bit of hope. This is the first step toward getting your life back on track. And then, little by little, a person can feel the joys of every day again. It happens so gradually that it might not even be noticed. The key is to let it happen on its own. When a person tries to desperately find normalcy and happiness prematurely, she hurts not only her own healing but the healing of those who care about her. She can spare a lot of people a lot of hurt by just letting grief run its course. Sometimes easier said than done.

So these are my “words of wisdom” for this March. Similar to many, I am no stranger to loss but still try to figure it out. To maybe find a way to get through it with the least amount of pain as possible. I should know by now that this doesn’t work, that you have to experience the pain to get through it and heal. It just isn’t fun. Not at all.

And now that the first year after these two loses are over, I can settle into routine and get my life back in order. Right? 😉 Never. Life is always a work in progress. Once you think you have one part of it figured out, God allows you to learn from a different angle and experience. Which probably is a blessing.

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