A few words about feeling broken....

I have recently been feeling broken. Like I am wounded, carrying around the parts that have fallen off of me through my personal loss in a wheelbarrow. This is noteworthy because this equates to baggage to me. It is funny how in life we cling to things that are painful, carrying them around in wheelbarrows, boxcars, huge storage lockers, or tiny little makeup bags because it feels like if we let go we will be lost in a world of the unknown. The baggage justifies the behavior that others might find a wee bit odd. The hauling of these bags or pushing of the wheelbarrows is exhausting but we continue to carry them with us through our lives allowing them to color everything we do and shade each emotion with the caution that is constantly being whispered over our shoulders by said baggage.

I am broken because my mother is no longer in her earthly body. And it is painful. But she is in a beautiful container that sits on my table that I pass several times as I move through my day. It has been a process and I have finally reached the place that I realize that this isn't my mother. It is just a very nice container that I selected that contains a bag of ashes. Everything that I loved about my mother is not in that little bag. I loved her face, her smile, her fingers, and her gnarled up toes that were always in search of comfortable shoes. I loved how when I was happy she celebrated, when I was sad she listened. She would have been amazed that I am still shedding tears for her six weeks later. But I will mend, and she will still be just ashes in a container on my table. I am releasing the desire that I keep her with me. She is with me, but not in the ashes.

So, it is with resignation and love that I surrender once again and complete this journey with my mother. She wanted to be with my father at a military cemetery with her vital statistics etched on the back of the headstone with his vital statistics. A physical marker of her existence on this earth. I will release her ashes to the cemetery because she expected me to do that for her. I thought attending the cremation was my final act of taking care of her and her wishes. I realize now it was only the penultimate act. Releasing her ashes is the final act. Then I'll continue my journey of moving on, a woman who has been altered, but will arise richer, wiser, and deeper. This is a profound experience and I am honored to feel the depths of emotion, that I have evolved to the space in my life where I am cracked so wide open. Being vulnerable isn't that bad after all.

I am letting this pour through me, sometimes like a breeze, sometimes like a tsunami but I am unafraid of feeling it all. The highest highs and the lowest lows. I hold the belief that this experience is expanding me beyond my wildest expectations. To believe that in the past I have held my feelings so close to my chest, afraid I would be judged for not doing it properly seems foreign to me now. The feeling of just letting it all go, complete with peanut butter sandwiches at midnight if I want is emancipating. I know I will pop on the other side, but not until I'm ready. So, the message for today is I love my body more than the roller coaster ride I'm riding right now...

XO