Last week I cried on the phone and said “every day I wake up and lose. I go downstairs and I lose. I get out of bed and I lose. Everything I do, I lose, lose, lose.” Well Evee, every day you wake up and win. You stretch in the morning to the sound of the birds and chatter, and you’ve won. You get out of bed by 9, and you’ve won.
I decided I enjoyed being bad at yoga. Of course, I was bad at yoga. I’m a clumsy girl. Yoga is reserved for a different type of elegance, one I can’t even begin to harbour.
I know it seems that this pandemic will never end, particularly as it follows us into a new year. But please know that you are not alone in your struggle, and this will pass. You will see that there are so many reasons to live.
But that’s grief, isn’t it? It comes when you least expect it. When you find a video you sent to your mum, of you in a pyjama set she bought you, tucked in a bed she kissed you goodnight in, cuddling the cat you both loved so much together.
There’s a small scar above my left eye, a keepsake from the time my sister and I tried to dig our way to China. I don’t remember the exact thought process that led to this bold venture, but since I was 5 and she was 13, I’m sure our reasoning was perfectly sound. I’m also sure that living in southeastern Idaho played a role in the decision because 1) We had nothing else going on, and 2) Local authorities hadn’t yet enacted any laws against minors procuring gardening shovels, ladders, and gas lanterns, and 3) There were plenty of other kids around who were eager to help (probably because we promised them fields of free fortune cookies upon job completion).
I see a girl who got through a difficult year of her life. It was nothing like the worst, but it was nothing like the easiest. I see a girl who has been hurt, who has healed, and who looks to the future with bright eyes. I see a girl who is not perfect, who makes a plethora of mistakes, who has a library of stories and someone who keeps on trying, no matter what.
Losing our mum aged me in so many ways, which I have mentioned a lot in blog posts before. Mum would always call me a “party girl” which used to make me cringe, but I quite liked the colourful description. I liked that people thought I was colourful and energetic.
Merry Christmas and Happy New year, Grievers, and as difficult as it may be, try to begin each day with a smile. It really does help. 🙂 Peace and blessings!
I think a part of me is afraid to really dive into those words that have become a regular line in my narrative. I am afraid to miss my mum, because what if I miss her wrong? What if I remember something wrong? What if I drown?
We never had any Big Talks. But over those three months we slowly rediscovered each other. Nothing magical (unless you count being able to laugh together again magical). Just us.