Does your heart ever feel so full that you wonder how much more will fit? Does it compress and weigh and sigh and swell and adjust?
My heart is so full of many things that for days now it just runs right out of my eyes and down my face. Unbidden. Random. Unexpected. Silent. Sometimes the silent tears hurt the most.
Life just stopped unceremoniously one Friday in March. It just stopped. You know what I mean, the entire country got up, went about their work, came home that evening and stopped. I remember that day and how it felt. I drove a friend home after work and I was feeling a lot of emotions. I could tell my life was changing in an instant and I was having difficulty processing what it would all mean. It was very surreal, somehow I knew it would be permanent or semi-permanent in some ways and my life would not be the same. I didn't know how to face it and I was grateful to not be alone that day.
A main function of being a parent is to celebrate your kids. It is to champion them, lead them, cheer for them and then push them out of the nest. So many parents are missing opportunities to celebrate. Right now, tears stream down my face at the loss. It is a significant loss and we are allowed to feel it. Not only are we allowed, but we should take the time to grieve it fully. Not one word of criticism about "people's lives matter more than your milestone." Not one word of that in this space. In this space we validate emotion and feelings. We take time because we know if it is not processed right and well it will be baggage in a hot minute that we will carry with us to the next stage. Friends, we always want to keep our baggage light, we want to unpack it often.
I only have middle schoolers but they both are struggling in their own ways. My son has chosen not to pursue jazz his Freshman year because he wants to add another course and there are only so many timeslots. He was going to have a jazz festival, he was going to play in NYC and with those great final memories, he was going to say "goodbye" to jazz which he truly enjoys. He is mourning that I think, not with tears like me, but a piece of his heart is disappointed and as his mother I want to fix that. He is supposed to "move up" in a ceremony in which he would have played some jazz, and dressed up. He asked me last night if I was going to play "Pomp and Circumstance" for him and without hesitation I said, "yes," which means I have to dig out the keyboard, find some sheet music, and start practicing. He gave me a hug. Which isn't unprecedented. But kinda. (He feels the teen separation hard right now.) I died a thousand deaths.
Boy scout camp is canceled and I know his career as a boy scout is now over. He's been expressing it for awhile but it's been a forced commitment. I wanted him to go to camp, have a good last memory because I know next summer he is almost sixteen and a sophomore and I will not force him longer. One day in March his career was simply over without announcement, without fanfare or one more merit badge.
My friends are postponing long dreamed of weddings. My heart aches for the bride dying to wear her dress. I once was dying to wear my dress. I feel that. My niece should be graduating high school. I should be in Ohio celebrating her. I once graduated and was anxious to have my family celebrate me. I keenly feel that.
Friends, what are we supposed to do with this mountain of unexpected grief and unrealized celebration?
First we are going to allow ourselves to grieve. My son hugged me hard and when he pulled back I hugged him harder. We will feel the grief. We will talk about it. We will find ways to celebrate. We will not be silenced by anyone that thinks our priories are misaligned. My sons, my husband, this time, is my priority.
Second, we will find ways to move forward. There is nothing new under the sun so many people before us, moved on.
We will move on somehow. But give yourself space to grieve. You can do that here. You can pop over to my house. I am allowing company. I am allowing tears.
For one day we got up and our whole life changed.
And that needs hugs.
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