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A mother's grief: in real life

Writer's picture: Grace GregoryGrace Gregory

Grace Gregory lives in Cave Creek, Arizona with her husband Eric. She is a transplant from the east coast, moving to the southwest to be closer to her grandkids. Grace is a RN, enjoys dance, the beach, travel, hiking, reading and spending time with her four grandchildren. Grace lost her youngest son Chris at age 19 in 2008.


I was cleaning out our kitchen pantry this weekend. A chore I had put off for much too long, as it had deteriorated into a game of jenga, unsteady with boxes on top of cans, and some bags of snacks here and there... you know what I mean. When it gets so hard to find something you know is in there, you just go buy another out of frustration, or laziness. 

 

As I was checking expiration dates on everything, I got to the back of the second shelf and I saw the can of Beefaroni and the can of tuna. Nobody in our house eats either of these things.  Both cans are way out of date, and both will never be removed during a pantry clean-up.  The memories are too precious. 

 

You see, those cans harken back to a day when our family was as perfectly imperfect as every other family. The time when my husband, my three sons and I were a whole family. That all changed in March 2008 when our youngest son Chris died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Chris was 19, a college student with a huge appetite. These 2 cans represent what would be a normal snack for him. We even brought these cans with us when we moved across the country in 2013. That sounds pretty crazy doesn’t it? 

 

That is the thing with grief.  You do feel a little (or a lot) crazy at times. Losing a precious member of your family can do that to you. Keeping those cans help me remember Chris having a “snack” which was really a meal, after school. Keeping those cans reminds me of shopping trips where, instead of cookies or candy, Chris would slip frozen lasagna or some Beefaroni into the cart, with his huge beautiful grin. Keeping those cans mean we are always ready for a visit from Chris.  Yes, my conscious, mostly sane mind knows he is not coming back, physically at least, but as his Mom, I am ready.  Just like I always keep my children’s and grandchildren’s favorite snacks ready for a visit at any time, notoriously-hungry-Chris is always welcome. 

 

The most recent holidays had me reeling this year. Along with the “normal grief” that I have accommodated into my life, I lost 2 siblings within 7 months of each other in the past year. I spent a portion of the holidays crying healing tears, something that has not thankfully happened in a while. I have never asked myself “why” with the loss of my son or my siblings. I trusted my faith then and now that they are all in the presence of the perfect love of our Lord. That gives me hope, joy, peace, and helps me incorporate their loss into my life, yet the grief remains as constant as ever.

 

I have never wanted a friend like grief, always around, causing trouble with no notice or concern, never giving me a warning or a choice, yet here grief remains; brought into action by a song, a smell, a date, a phrase, a snack, completely uncaring about what I am currently doing. It continues to occasionally stop me in my tracks. Why does grief happen frequently while I am driving? It is surely not safe to drive with my eyes full of tears! I feel, in some ways, that I should be grateful to grief for bringing forward the love I can no longer express to my son and my brother and sister. But I really wonder sometimes, who am I without my grief; I will never know, we are BFFs now. 

 

Yes, I function as a joyful, fun, grandmother, mother, sister, wife and friend. I laugh, dance, play, travel and genuinely enjoy my life. I am grateful for the strength I have been given to live a full and happy life, including the blessing of grandchildren, even with grief as my companion. I love my son, and my sister and brother; their love will never be past tense for me. Do I thank grief for that? 

 

I do know I no longer steel myself for when grief is going to rear its troublemaking head. I remain open to grief, in all its uncertainty and know it is one more thing I have zero control of. I have learned grief is unpredictable at all times. I do not say I welcome grief, but it brings forth memories of my loved ones that I am ever grateful for. I will always make room for grief and be ready with snacks, just in case. 

 

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4 kommentarer


Christy Bronson
2 days ago

Beautiful article, Grace. Thank you for sharing your heart! The description of grief as an unwelcome friend resonated strongly. Thank you for writing.

Gilla

Carla Breunling
2 days ago

Thank you Grace. You went straight to the heart of how grief works in us in crazy ways sometimes and I totally get it! I appreciate your wise and heartfelt words about your journey and your beautiful son Chris ❤️

Gilla

Brenda Daly
2 days ago

I love the way you describe the grief bursts as we move along this journey in time. Grief is always with us and unpredictable.

And I too have a package of unopened spaghetti noodles my son brought over one day. I’ll never open them. They remind me of his presence and th ast he is always with me.

Gilla

Irene Peterson
2 days ago

Dear Grace, I feel you. The beefaroni story sounds very familiar, a bittersweet reminder of your precious son. I'm sorry for your recent losses, and of course the loss of your son. May God bless you and your entire family. Thanks for sharing.

Gilla
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