The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.
Gustave Flaubert

Yesterday I met Stella Joy. A feisty, strong, joyful and wise little girl who would be just two months younger than Anaïs… would be… if fate had taken a different turn. I read the words of her mothers, I absorbed the photos, and I found myself completely immersed in the emotions with tears, and at times smiles. Though my loss is nothing like that of losing a child, I felt an instant connection to each and every reflection shared by Stella’s mothers. Every sentiment resonated with my own feelings of loss, grief, disconnection, and sheer will/commitment (coupled with hope) to keep present, engaged and joyful in my life. The reflections open with a powerful quote…

Don’t postpone joy until you have learned all of your lessons. Joy is your lesson. ~ Alan Cohen

Perhaps part of what resonates for me is that I imagine my mother was an equally energetic and spunky child. I still recall my grandmother sharing stories of trying to get her kids organized to get to the store… if she needed to go in one direction and had all her kids geared up and ready, she could be certain that my mom would find a way to run in the opposite direction… seeking a new adventure, forcing her mother to ‘stop’ in her path and re-engage in the moment. Though admittedly my grandmother was not always that reflective and instead often lost her temper as my mom became the ‘challenging’ child with a personality of her own!!!

yet wherever she was, it seemed that joy always followed my mom… or perhaps she followed joy and embraced it with a sense of wonder and curiosity. I love hearing people talk about my mom’s ability to celebrate everything and to bring laughter into all situations; her incessant curiosity, and eagerness to try new things.

I have always imagined that the loss of a child is probably the most tragic that anyone can endure… it goes against the grain of our existence, against the ‘natural’ flow of events. And yet as I read the grief Stella’s absence has created, it completely mirrors my own, in a way that I would not have expected.

Throughout my life my mom always told me that I was the mom and she was the child in our relationship. I was always the ‘more responsible’ one, the ‘more sensible’, and in her mind, often the ‘more reflective’. Not sure if that warranted me being dubbed the adult in our mother-daughter relationship… and certainly as I have had children of my own, I have come to recognize that there is a transformation that happens as we become parents: our children do teach us, even as they are our children… they teach us how to live.

While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about. ~Angela Schwindt

Stella embraced each moment of life to the fullest, with a huge grin on her face. Even as she moved into the darkest moment, she never stopped being Stella. As I reflect back on those final days and weeks, I can see that same spirit in my mother. She was enjoying her favourite snacks right into the final days. And using her tongue to express herself once the rest of her body no longer was able to do as she wanted. She held herself tall… with dignity, even as she walked into another dimension.

This time last year, I was immersed in solitude and quiet… the solitude of being with someone who is leaving their body. It was around this time that it became clear that my mom would not even make it through until the summer… our dream of sharing a final summer together by the pool with the kids was quickly disappearing, at the same speed as my mama’s own breath was fading.

She continued to insist on doing everything on her own. She wanted to maintain full independence for as long as possible. At the same time I found myself stranded in a state of confusion as I watched my mom rapidly drift away: wanting so much for her to stay; and simultaneously feeling a pull to return to my kids and my husband. It was a time in my life that I truly wished I were two. When I first set out to be with my mom in Malta in February 2012, I had a dream that we would bring her back to Colombia… that we would be able to find our way back to health (or letting go with dignity) together. Once that dream shattered I desperately clung to the idea of our summer with each other… and in the end, it was just me and her. In some ways, the most precious of times and one I will never regret. Though in others, as a mom of tiny babes, my heart felt pulled and torn… and I am not sure if it has yet recovered.

This time last year I was in a cocoon of ‘embracing’ death. Spring bloomed around me, cherry blossoms decorated the trees throughout high park, the air was ripe with the smell of new beginnings and burgeoning with life. Meanwhile, I was holding hands with death, and trying to accept the ending of a life. Yet there is also something about being ‘with death’ that is healing and wondrous. In the same way as when a new child enters the world, there is an awe in being around this precious soul. I found a similar drawing of energy in those final weeks and days… everyone wanted to be with my mom, they wanted to see her, they wanted to be around her. Once we knew that we were moving into counting days (rather than months, or even weeks… or the years we had been told when this process first began just a month earlier), my mom no longer wanted the commotion. She preferred to be alone, in a meditative silence… from time to time enjoying her favourite meals, and waiting. I did all I could to respect her wishes and shelter her space. Though it is only upon reflection that I fully understand her need for quiet and solitude… she was in a time of transformation and needed this stillness to move into her own cocoon. And Spring itself is all about transformation and rebirth… though for me, this year, without the presence of my mom, it is much more about loss and closure.

Spring is the season of all the RE’s: REnewal, REbirth, REvitalization, REjuvenation, REplenishment, REstoration, REgeneration. All such promising and active words… ~Mishi

Instead of craving to go out and enjoy the magic of this season, i find myself wanting to return into the cocoon, or perhaps not leave it yet. I loved the authenticity of Mishi’s reflections on this time of year, especially as it related to the process of grief and grieving. Just as the earth beckons us to resurface, reconnect and re-engage, i have found myself moving deeper inside all over again.

As the one-year closes in on me, I try hard to find comfort in the concept that my mom remains in my heart and mind… and in the memories and words of my children. Yet the emptiness is still so very, very present… and the void still so hard to accept.

I suppose it is all part of the process. And I know that despite my ‘desire’ to retreat, my children will answer the call of Spring and bring me into the world… whether I am ready or not. And yet again, they will be teaching me what life is all about… and how to really live it. in the same way as my mom always tried to inspire me to do the same… to live fully, to embrace each opportunity, to find joy in everything… to be free. And now she is… free and at peace. Yet I still wish that that freedom and peace did not come at such a high price.

A few days ago, I felt much stronger and more committed to enjoying Spring… today, i am taking things one breath at a time… and for now, that is the best I can do…

“When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person who can live at peace with others.” – Peace Pilgrim