Two years ago on this night, I fed my mom applesauce, she told me to "tell the babies Nana loves them", and I promised to be there first thing in the morning.
I arrived first thing in the morning, but my mom was no longer alive.
I've been thinking a lot lately about what was going through her mind. I have documented words from her medical records, quiet exchanges shared in the dark of night between her and my grandmother, and other bits and pieces.
But I can't stop wondering, I can't stop thinking, about how the book would have read had she gotten the chance to write it.
I think if my mom could have, she'd have said something akin to this:
"At the end of my life, it wasn't the undone Pinterest projects, or the to-do list on my fridge. No, I mourned for much more.
I wept for the grandbabies I would never hold. I wept for the redemption in my husband's story. I wept for baking at Christmas and summer-time picnics and everything in life I held so dear.
When I looked into the faces of my children, their fear and pain a cloak about their neck, I knew they wept for it too. For the entirety of it. The finality.
I kissed them goodbye one final time, as I prepared for my last night on earth."
Yes, I believe she'd have said something like that.
Two years have passed and I can hardly believe she's gone.
Tomorrow, my heart & soul project launches. Faces of Grief was born out of the desire to honor my mom, her story, and everyone out there who finds themselves in the face of grief.
My hope and prayer is that it reaches exactly who it is meant to reach, offering strength and healing, through the shared stories of the grieving. I'd love to see you there.