mental-health

The Art of Letting Go

#judedays, Child loss, Grief, Healing

Shortly after loosing my son Jude, someone said to me “You have to let him go”. I can tell you now and certainly would have told you then, just a few short weeks after loosing him, that statement was not helpful – at all! At the time, my body and mind were still numb and I couldn’t even grasp at the basic intention that was behind the statement. I’m sure there was some form of pure support intention behind the statement, but the thing is, even if I was in a position to grasp the intention behind the statement, letting go of your dead child is just something that you simply can’t do.

It’s not as simple as releasing your grip on a balloon string and watch it float away into clear blue skies. There are no blue skies after loosing a child and your child is not a balloon. Being told that you “need to let them go” is not as simple as it sounds, nor is it as liberating from the darkness of grief as most of those around us want to believe. Letting go is not that simple – a truth that is once again being demonstrated by the worlds beloved Orca Killer Whale, Tahlequah, who is once again holding on to her dead calf as part of her grieving process.

This year, will mark a decade since I lost my boy and I’m still grappling with the art of letting go. I know I will never let him go and that is not what I’m grappling with. I know that he’s forever a part of me and I of him and that will never change or dissipate despite the passing years. What I am learning to let go of is the rituals that no longer serve my grieving journey, the guilt that overwhelms and consumes me, the need to share him with everyone. Letting go of those things and making room for new ways to share his light, honour the lessons and light the path for those traveling their own grief journey behind me is how I’m choosing to embrace this next part of my journey.

And like Tahlequah, the Orca Killer Whale who carried her first dead calf for 17 days (1,000 Miles) in 2018, we the bereaved parent, will only “let them go” when we are ready. Our definition of letting go is not the same as of those witnessing our grief journey from the sidelines. It is completely different and utterly unique – just like our child(ren). Grief paralyzes us, holds us hostage, changes us, moves us and expands us. We can’t let it go – it needs to let us go. And that does not happen with time, it can only happen with comprehension, appreciation and gratitude for the lessons learned and love endured.

Only the Bereaved Mama will Appreciate This

Child loss, Grief, Holiday Season, self care
Winter Wreath
Winter Wreath

It’s as much about the output as it is about the time spent.

The time I allow myself to immerse in something that is truly just for him. It’s the equivalent of bedtime stories, bath giggles and dinner time conversation. Time I spend just with him. For him. Where my hands and my heart are in rhythm and my mind is somehow tricked into believing he is present. I allow myself the indulgence of the process itself. In selecting the design, materials and decorative pieces that speak to me and connect me to him leading into the holiday season.

The output is never picture perfect and it will never make it to someone’s Pinterest board. Instead it will face the wind, rain and snow that comes with the season year in and year out. It will be carefully and proudly displayed at his garden for the holiday season as a badge of love – a token of remembrance that we miss him and that we remember him – always.

My heart will flinch when I see it covered in inches of snow loosing its pristine newness look. I will feel the disappointment as I watch it slowly break apart, trying to find ways to mend it year after year until it can no longer be. The scabs of my mended heart will itch reminding me as to why it needs me to continue this simple tradition of creating holiday wreaths. An unlabeled act, initially forced upon me as a coping mechanism to bring back meaning to the holidays, remembrance assurance to my worried mind and a place of rest for my grieving mama heart. It has now become labelled as a tradition, but it’s one of purpose and not transmission.

For now, I will give my heart permission to silence my mind and indulge in the act of placing this brand new wreath at his resting place as it braces itself for the most triggering time of the year. For that is what my heart needs to gently invite the season in and embrace the tricky balance between sadness and joy that only a bereaved mama can gracefully do everyday, but especially during the holiday season.

So if you’re a grieving mama navigating this ever so tricky season, I invite you to join me in finding ways to bring comfort to your heart and meaning back to the season. Traditions start somewhere – start a new one this season that opens up space for your grief to flow through, your heart to rest, your child to be included and remembered. Grace and deep breaths will get us through this – together.