01/04/2023
A vulnerable self reflection demonstrating ambiguous grief….
“Write about or work on whatever revolution is happening in your heart “ Liz Gilbert
It never ceases to amaze me the many forms of ambiguous grief that come to light as we journey through this life. Many of us hope and pray to never be touched by the obvious losses, the “tangible”losses such as death of a loved one, divorce, loss of our beloved pets. We brace ourselves and hope that we’re fortunate enough to not have to face that type of loss too many times in our lifetime. However, there are the unexpected losses, the things that we can’t even imagine, or brace ourselves for, that sneak up on us and show us that grief has many faces.
Grief is the experience of any loss in our life -something that marks and ending that carries memories and significance to our life experience. Grief can even be accompanied by pride, gratitude and joy. Often people judge their grief for endings that don’t feel tragic or losses we should be grateful for…However, allowing our grief to be shared and acknowledged, allows for deeper connection with others .The one that has been forming inside of me lately is the ambiguous loss of being a mom in the way that I have had so much joy experiencing for the last 20 years; yes there have been rough patches and yes, I have dreamt about a time when my children would be more independent and I could have more “space .”When your kids are young, people tell you to make sure you have hobbies so that when they leave the “nest“ you are still able to recognize yourself even without the role of mother/parent as you have known it. What no one prepared me for was the deep grief, the emotional part of letting go of our children, and allowing them to spread their wings and become the independent people we raised them to be. While you feel proud, and you know that this is exactly what you wanted for them, there is no loss of grief in that letting go. My life is filled with books I want to read, classes I want to take, fitness and friends that I long to connect with. Those are not the parts of the motherhood transformation that I will struggle with. It’s the parts that I did not anticipate that have snuck up on me.
Sometimes this grief and longing is confused by the milestone 50th birthday- is it my age that is creating so much reflection and self inventorying or is it the shift from mom of dependent children to mom of young adults and how that looks compared to what I have known as a mom.
I find comfort in friends who are on the same journey and resonate with the slow burn of endings. As our children move further away from us, there is solace in Facebook groups who put words to what is in my heart, and lets me know that I am not alone.
It’s a bittersweet time because the space that you have longed for in the younger years becomes the spaces where the magic happened, where unexpected conversations took place and connection with your child. When they start driving, when they start forming a strong peer group; all the things that we wish for our children that then leave less space for us.
The reflections of the past years start playing over in our minds. Did I teach them enough? Will they be able to remember their center in a world that can be harsh and confusing at times? Did I spend enough time with them?
Being married to someone’s son, I encourage him to call his mom twice as much as he thinks is enough, to tell her the memories that he has from being a child and to share the gratitude for things that he now has an appreciation for in his older years. I do this because I know that one day my son will be someone’s wife, and I hope that she provides the same grace for me.
It has occurred to me as I’m writing this, I have always said that our children choose us from the start to help us grow and heal the places that we are not aware of until faced with a tiny human; a human who we want to do better for and be better for . It’s ironic to me that this seems to be a theme throughout parenting, the hope that when our children leave our home, they still choose us; they still choose to come home, and they still choose us.
Being a parent is probably one of the most vulnerable experiences we will have in our life if we are courageous enough to see our children’s journey and personalities as something separate from our own.
Just like with all grief, not everyone will experience this ending in the same way. For me, this grief is a dance between sadness and joy; seeing my children become adults who are good people, who are discovering paths with confidence and integrity, and who have become people I genuinely respect and enjoy being around. That is the gift of this ending …. It is raising people I really like and who, through their hearts and values, I see hope for the future.
