Wednesday 13 February 2013

Love and Loss

Today is the 6th anniversary of my mother's passing. I still struggle with the word 'death' in relation to my mum. Because the truth is, she is not dead but still very much alive in my world. With the passing of time, the trauma of what happened on this day, 6 years ago are not as present- though if I allow myself to connect with it, the experience is still vivid. With the passing of time, the emotions surface- catching me unaware- disconnected with the events- abstract- unpredictable- a burst. I was sitting in a taxi this morning, en-route to a meeting- looking out of the window of the taxi, snow outside, grey morning- FLASHBACK- funeral, sitting in front of the hearst, my mum in a coffin behind the glass window- the glass that divided the living from the dead; me from her; my life as it was to the life it was unfolding- in her present absence- one *&$king piece of glass- a lifetime. In that moment in the taxi, I was awash with grief- once more. 6 years later. Still.

From that date, a lot has changed inside of me. I could say that I hold onto things more lightly- I could also say that I care less. Things oscillate between mattering and not mattering; important and not important- I care much and I care less. My thoughts drift to how I feel about me- mattering and not mattering. Just before writing this, I read Paul Barber's newsletter about Love- I assume it is in relation to Valentine's Day. It occurred to me while I was in the hospital- my mother in a coma-- making the final decision to disconnect the life-support machines...that if I were to make the decision to bring an end to her on the 14th, Valentine's Day would never be the same again. I was thinking of celebrating- not being able to enjoy the 14th again. But now, I with Paul's quotes fresh in my head, I am connecting with loss and love- grieving because of love. Feeling deep sense of loss for the space that is now empty. I thought writing about this would make me feel 'better'- it doesn't.

Ever since the Singapore coaching conference when I had to borrow someone's room for an afternoon- and saw, what I assumed was like her 'travelling shrine', I had taken to carrying around with me, a bit of 'home' to hotel rooms. There is a small, round photoframe with a photo taken with my mum and dad when I was about 28 years old. This photoframe sat on the glass shelf in our home in Toronto. The home was sold 6 months after my mum died. As I looked into our faces in this small photo, I could see how young we all looked. Then I realised that I am now only about 12 or so years away from the same age my parents were when that photo was taken. I was struck by how quickly time passes. It seems so futile that we spend so much time running around---that I spend so much time---thinking that things matter---when, before I know it, my time is up. I struggle to connect with what really matters and who are the people who really matter to me- including me. Then the thought- how am I spending my time? Does it matter?