grief and hummingbirds and feeling all the feelings
I've been missing my grandmother these last few days. Her birthday was Saturday, and she would have been 92...or is it 93 now? It's been 10 years since she died. And even though I had her in my life for 28 years, the 10 years since I've heard her voice feel wide and deep right now.
In the nooks and crannies of this blog you'll find me talking about how spring invites me to miss her deeply while at the same time, it always bringing her back to me. Some days I even sense her around the edges of the pushing toward the sky tulips and the unfurling leaves and the rain as it drips. Some days I even hear her whispering to me.
This is the gift of grief: It breaks us open and teaches us about love in ways we never knew possible.
On Saturday, Ellie and I went on a little artist date adventure around Tacoma and we kept seeing hummingbirds. I was strapping Ellie into her car seat at one point and said, "There's another hummingbird." And she said, "They must have heard you tell me it was Grandma's birthday when we were standing in the backyard and they've come to visit us today." Yes, honey, exactly that.
I guess today, I just really want you to know that you can feel all the feelings when grief arrives. But try remember to keep your heart open to the little unexpected joys and the truths tapping on your shoulder.
Over the weekend, I was looking for something in my blog archives and came across these words from five years ago and felt moved to share them again today.
i heard your laughter today. it rang out inside me like a whisper from long ago. years now. the last time we talked has been almost half a decade ago. in this moment, i want to tell you all that has happened. i was so lost, searching my pockets constantly for a flashlight so i could find my way. and then, through that darkness, that grief, that fear, i suddenly looked up and saw all the lights around me. some were far far in the distance, but they stood there waiting. patiently. while i just kept going, even when i found myself back in the same place for a bit. i would tell you about how i one day realized that the lights were not only surrounding me with their guidance and truth and love, but that the light lived within me. within me. and i knew i would never again be alone. did you learn this truth when you were here? how i wish i could tell you. how i wish i could invite you to stand in your light and know. in this moment, i sit here with this truth within my heart while another light within me grows and twirls and beats each day, waiting. and when she arrives, i will teach her this truth. maybe i am already teaching her. i will teach her about the light within her. i will tell her about the light grief gifted me. i will teach her about the day i thought i was never going to find my way and then i looked up. i will tell her all that you teach me even now. even now when your laughter seems to only live inside me.
into the archives in on grieving (and healing)
Reader Comments (7)
this is a lovely remembrance post of your grandmother, you must have been very close, and it sounds like she is badly missed, but i like that you talk about the beauty in it all. My relationship with my grandmothers was difficult, one was very distant and and the other one who died just 6 months ago seemed to only know me as the first girl born into the family (she had three sons) but she didn't really seem to know me as a person and my relationship was difficult with her as i got older. sometimes some relationships are just difficult i guess, but i loved reading this celebration of your grandmother today and i think it will even help me a little in trying to forgive the difficulties and deal with my own grief, so thanks for sharing this today :)
Thank you!
What beautiful thoughts about your grandmother. It will be 30 years this year that I lost my maternal grandmother and I still miss her just about every day, but I also find her and see her in the small things and can hear her whisper to me when I need it most. Hugs. xoxo
This was beautiful and I couldn't agree more! I lost my oldest son at the age of 20, 3 1/2 years ago. His death has forever changed me to my soul's core. Yes, that deep! I peeled back layers of myself that I never wanted to know about. It was a hard and strenuous process of pain, loss, heartache and complete mental shutdown. With the love of my son guiding me through, the result was a beautiful understanding of what his life was all about. While I knew he was a gift to my soul here on earth, I learned how his death became a soul-changer as well. He whispers secrets of the universe to me all the time. He reminds me in his soft ways to listen to the vibrations that are all around me, and he encourages me to be my authentic self. I will always miss his dimpled smile and his warm laugh, but I know that he is still with me. He is a part of me like no other...He is my child, and he shines through me now!
Thank you Liz, for sharing your heart with all of us.
In peace,
Amber
Ah, grace....I read this today on the 6th anniversary of my Mom's passing. With each calendar page turn, the pain isn't as severe. A welcoming fact, but it means that I've moved on as well....what we're wired to do in order to survive profound loss. She would want it no other way - and it's not as if I left her back on the road we existed on that fateful day, or she I, my Mom lives on inside of me, like your Grandmother in you Liz. That is the beauty of life; those that touched us in this world, stay with us in memory, spirit and character....we're never truly parted. I will hear my Mom's laugh throughout today, the way she giggled like a little girl at times, and be grateful for her love - here on earth and from the heavens above.
Liz, thank you for sharing your beautiful words here. I love your thoughts, they always inspire me to reflect and grow. Joy and peace to my fellow travelers.
This is beautiful. Yes.