Grieve and Keep Going

My stepmother passed away on October 13th. It feels like yesterday. The grief hits so strangely and unpredictably, but I can tell that’s what it is. A sour soup of sadness, fear, anger, and disassociation.

The grief comes out side ways, in sudden bouts of exhaustion, craving for smoked fish, and indignation at normal daily activities: “I can’t possibly wait in this line! Don’t they know I’m bereft?”

She was more important to me than the official title of stepmother implied. She parented me as best she could for nearly fifty years. She took care of my father, my sisters, and her grand children as best she could for as long as she could. We were important to her. Our well-being was important to her. She made sure we knew that.

And in the end, as a mother myself, I hope that I will be able to show the people I care about the same message: that they matter to me beyond all else, that sharing their joys and their suffering is my priority, that their world matters to me, that I am on their side.

I can’t imagine a better-lived life than that, a better legacy than that. And so, even while I grieve, I’m gonna keep going.