The Meanings In Grief

It’s nice to believe there are no coincidences

I’m at the door of another holiday season without my mom. This year will be my 19th. It’s familiar but strange. I wish I hadn’t made its acquaintance, but somehow we’re still acquaintances, ya know?

Grief is unusual like that. Once I wrote that it was like snow, sometimes heavy and icy, other times powdery soft. I’ve graduated from trying to describe its weight and instead I’m in a season of trying to define its meaning.

And I don’t mean the kind of meaning or silver lining you’re supposed to spot right after someone dies.

Like a well-meaning person comes up to you after a loss and says,

“There’s a reason behind this loss, I just know it.”

And maybe you won’t have the energy for anything other than nodding your head or maybe you will have the energy and you’ll use it to keep sneaking a look behind the loss in hopes there was something you didn’t see.

I speak for myself only, but I’ve never managed to find a reason behind my mom’s death. She’s been gone for 19 years almost and her death is still a complete sentence.

“My mom died.” Not, “My mom died, but…”