Day One

Grief is like the ocean, it comes in waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.

Vicki Harrison

OMG! It’s time to countdown! We’re close to completing renovating my mom’s house. I’m finding myself feeling some type of way about the coming end of this adventure. I’m not sad my mom’s home is going to market. But the end of the reno has awaken sadness time will never heal. The loss of innocence. The loss of my brother. And, now, the loss of my mom.

When everything around me became chaotic the empty house became warm and inviting. It became my refuge. It was there my troubles began at the tender age of eleven. And it was there my soul found peace at the ripe old age of 59 and three quarters.

Each day I spend in my mom’s home assurance washes over my soul. The ghosts of growth, love and understanding comforts me.

My brother loved me. And, I him. I feel his presence from time to time. My mother loved me. And, I loved her more than I thought she would ever know. And her presence is strong. It comforts me in so many ways. Warm feelings come over me as I paint a closet or a song will play on Pandora she’d listen to for hours. Without a doubt the sin of my uncle-in-law became her and my redeemer at the end.

The strength I forged to live through the shame and blaming of being sexually violated has become the solidarity between my deceased mom and me. I’m glad she came to terms with the part she’d played in the ongoing ostracizing of me among family members. Because in the end her acts of kindness did their best to seek forgiveness. But unbeknown to her, I had forgiven her decades ago. As why she could marvel and take refuge in my strength to live an abundant life. She will forever be missed. Her character was larger than the life she lived.