Why? There are No Stages

Well my true feelings are a crap shoot. Someone told me that I needed to pull myself up by my boot strapes because my mom would have wanted that. I  call bullshit. My mother taught me to look deep at triggars, to see that my boot straps are frayed, stop take the boots off and wash off all the shit thats caked to the bottom, string up stronger laces, get good socks and then lace them up. My mom analized things to deaht to try to figure out about how to be the best version of herself. She taught me that if it is looking too good to be true, it is too good to be true. Stages imply that you will get to a certain point to be able to deal with boot strapes at all. Instead grief is certainly a tidal wave, and you are always floating on the beautiful memory of the one who has left. With the swells, out past the breakers, you can float with their memory, almost giggle as you feel your body being lifted and cradled. Floating in the salty goodness, the salty healing waters.

The memory of my mother touches me everyday. I float in the swells of her spirit, her memories, dradling my body, floating me through each day. I can stretch my body out and mom holds me. My mother is the ocean. But then a tidal wave comes. Emotions I thought Id learned to circumnavigate around, moving with them, no over or under. It is in these moments I can’t breathe. The memories are too much. Too hard. They pound into me, empty the void Id filled with self realization and peace. I am filled with all the fear and anger and drown in the memories that what ifs the if onlys, the shouldves squeeze into that place and take me down. I have thrown out the stages. I’ve adopted the waves because even as the waves sink me Im connected to Mom in the salt and surf. The emotions that over take me, are because I loved my mom so so much. My grief story is a story created due to my undying love and adoration for my first home, Gali Louise Matthew, my mom.