One Year Later

It's been a little over a year since I lost my mother, and almost one month later, my aunt Lil. She was my father's sister and lived in Florida. At the age of 94, she had lived a long life, but in the last several years, her legs had become weak, her eyesight worsened, and she was feeling the effects of diabetes. She and I always had a special connection.

Those first few months were difficult--I just didn't feel like doing much of anything, and my mind felt somewhat clouded. I laid low, and except for the responsibilities required in my role as Chair of the Sarah Neuman Board (a nursing and rehabilitation facility), I took my time and acted in the moment. What did I feel like doing that day? That was what I did and what a gift it was.

I felt I had gotten through my mother's and aunts's deaths in a way that acknowledged what happened but also allowed me to have some distance and see it in a more detached way. The hot flashes that began right after mom died subsided 2 months later as quickly as they started; in retrospect, I understand the deep sorrow and stress I had been feeling while mom was ill. It was as if my mind, body and spirit needed time to rebalance themselves. And some time around the end of October, I started to come out of the fog and move to the rhythm of my former life.

A slow transformation had taken place. I saw the value of what I had learned during my sabbatical year, and how it had anchored me in the worst emotional crisis of my life. I had taken my sabbatical as a way of exploring my own spiritual life, but now I saw that having a strong spiritual core provided a calm and supportive base for my daily life. I was comfortable not only living it but also talking about it.

As more people asked about what I was going to do, how I would incorporate the past year into my practice, it became clear that the spiritual component of "holistic" health coaching was often ignored or given short shrift, not for lack of importance, but because of a discomfort with broaching what feels like a sensitive topic. For me, it felt natural, and didn't depend on remembering specific information. It incorporated everything I had learned and experienced up to that point, and was organic in nature. This is the work I am born to do.

Life Without Mom

The house is blissfully quiet and still. An airplane buzzes overhead. My first thought is to call mom and talk, about anything and everything or perhaps nothing in particular.

That’s not an option anymore.

It’s been a busy week, with my aunt’s funeral in Florida and getting my youngest daughter back to college. A lot of moving around, so being still and quiet has its appeal. I start thinking of how life has already changed in the past 5 weeks:

--I talk to mom in absentia

--My siblings and I have a weekly call

--I check in with my dad daily

--There are acknowledgment notes to write

--I've started to get hot flashes!

The last is an interesting phenomenon, and not welcome especially in the heat of the summer. Something must have been triggered in my body’s chemistry (undoubtedly due to stress). I’ve not had time to focus on possible remedies, but I’m going to get busy and see if I can’t “re-balance” things. It’s obvious something is “off-kilter.” Amazing my body presents a living illustration.

The Jewish holidays are approaching, when mom and I would cook together. She and dad starting coming up to our temple years ago to attend services, and it was a time of being together to start a new year. As much as I have been trying to take one day at a time, I am keenly aware these days are almost upon us, and I know we will all feel the loss, the hole, the empty place that mom would have occupied.

I am told that getting through the first of everything over the next year is a process in itself, and after that, it will get easier. Just allowing time to pass is healing. When I’m busy, and I’ve seen this with my father too, it is easier, with other activities to occupy and distract us. It’s the quiet times when my thoughts drift to mom. And for my dad, the evenings and weekends alone are the hardest.

Being in my body keeps me rooted here on earth, and so yoga, exercise, meditation, spending time with friends and family, and work all help to keep me grounded. I still remind myself it will take time tofeel as if life is normal. Or maybe it will just be a new-normal.