Deja Vu All Over Again.

This past weekend I was invited to a special service honoring all those who had died in 2020, and weren't able to hold services for their loved ones.

It was held at the funeral home where my Mother was cremated.

Everyone was given a snowflake ornament with their loved ones names and date of death, to put on a beautifully snow flocked Christmas tree.

Eighteen months after she has passed, I still find myself raw and not able to completely process what I have been through.

How to understand exactly what happened in regards to so much of my life in general.

But there was no way I was going to miss the only thing that has been done for her, so I informed my kids, and we went.

I knew it would be emotional, but I had no idea how it would make me feel like I had lost her all over again. Bringing all those sad emotions right below the surface, straight up to the top.

The funeral director began with saying how snowflakes, much like people are all different. I didn't even think about that special choice of shape, until he mentioned it.

An older woman proceeded to read two passages about loss and grief.

To say it took everything in me not to get up and run back to my car sobbing would be an understatement. I forget exactly what she said but I swear it was my mother talking. Saying how she will always be with me, even when her worldly self won't be.

That my grief is mine. I never have to "get over it." And that no one will understand the exact ways we may operate. How one day we can be ok, and the next a mess. How we need the utmost support and understanding during this time.

Understanding and support, I was never afforded.

Tears just didn't seem to stop, even though I pressed that tissue so hard into my tear ducts, it wasn't enough to plug up that river of mixed emotions.

They never ceased.

But it was beautiful. It was normal. It was grief. It was pain. It was sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Ultimately, triumph.

Finally the director asked everyone to come up and say the name, and relationship to their loved one, as they put the ornament on the tree.

I looked at my three kids with tear filled eyes, and asked them to do it for their grandmother.

I am ashamed to admit, I didn't have the courage, or the strength to say her name without losing my composure completely.

And without missing a beat, they went up to that tree, said my mother's name into the microphone, and put that ornament on the tree.

Man, those kids take my breath away.

So while nothing about that ceremony can replace a true service, it was a lovely reminder of all those who had perished during a pandemic.

They may not have gotten the proper recognition at the time, but they surely had not, and will not, be forgotten.

They ended the service with a song where everyone was given a candle to light.

This Christmas I plan on lighting that candle as a reminder of my Mom.

Another new painful tradition, but one that will keep her spirit in our memories.

So even though these past eighteen months have been ones I never hope to revisit, I am going to try and see what can be my new goals for that of 2022, a year I feel will finally bring about a hard earned, happy destiny and rosy future.

One I am completely ready for.

Xoxo,

C.