This morning I’m sitting next to my grandmother’s broken bowl. It should be in the garbage can by now. But instead, I vacillate between two ideas - replacing the bowl (but it’s vintage and outside of my chosen budget) & finding a local kintsugi professional to glue it back together in a fabulous golden sort of way. I don’t want to go down this rabbit hole, but by now my internet search has also shown me a kit on Amazon that would also allow me to fix it myself… More options.
Do I actually need to fix it?
Probably, no.
So, I’m asking myself why it feels so hard to let go of this blessed bowl. Other than the core facts: it was my grandmother’s, my turtle loves soaking in this bowl, and I’m a pretty sentimental person. It’s also a full moon. A time when we feel things more intensely; notice the stark contrast between light and dark.
When I sit with this question a bit longer, I wonder if maybe this bowl is reminding me that I’m still grieving Nana twenty years later. Her bright coral lipstick and ghost stories. Her staple sweater in all it’s cashmere perfection and in every color. The way it felt when she hugged me. Watching Unsolved Mysteries together and going to the movies. That yellow record she played for us from a yoga teacher. The two of them introducing me to the philosophies that have saved my life a time or three hundred.
And, why wouldn’t I keep grieving someone I love who no long has an earthly form?
Let’s give ourselves permission to feel what we feel… because well, feelings are real.
In my mother religion, it’s Holy Week.
While I no longer identify with a lot of Catholism, one of the things that I have kept from that religious path is the permission she gave me to grieve. So, deeply in my feelings over the bowl/Nana and our pet (Radish) who passed this weekend, I skipped my Tuesday morning meditation group to visit a local church for Stations of the Cross. Surrounded by women in their mourning veils and images of Jesus’ women including the Blessed Mother weeping, I repeated the words Jesus remember me and thought about how I “remember” him. Or more how safe he’s always been for me. The first place I found for lament. A process that I would be stripped of in the next chapter of my religious path.
I cannot give enough thanks for the reclamation of her.
Lament, grief. Both.
I believe our grief should be welcome in every place and space.
In our bodies and our lives. In our parenting and relationships. In our classrooms and the coffee shop. In the birthing room and the postpartum bed. At our pulpits and behind meeting room doors. In our spiritual lives, especially, in protection of our mental health.
When I think about Jesus' walk toward a cross I don't personally think he had to bear, I can imagine profound grief. A teacher, Rabbi, soul friend on fire for the sweet possibility of humanity to love better and well taken down by his own beloved friend for some silver and gold. We see this every day. Political people and systems choosing power over love again and again and again. Did Jesus know it was going to happen? Probably. But even if we know something terrible is coming, it doesn't become easier. Hence Jesus’ plea to the sky, Protector God, Father, Daddy, why have you forsaken me?
I wonder what Jesus still wanted to see happen in his lifetime. Since he rose from the dead, he certainly wasn't done yet. Would he ever feel complete? I don't know. But maybe that's why so many of us feel inclined to remember him, suffer alongside him and do his work today. Loving our neighbors well, even through grief.
Some of us, especially through it.
All of this to say, Stations of the Cross was beautiful. I brought my whole self and the wide spectrum of emotions that are undoing me. And I'm sitting here thinking that perhaps This Undoing is necessary. Lest we get too attached to a perfect realm that doesn't truly exist, even though we move toward it.
We are allowed to be undone.
But, will we allow it?
I'll end here. Jesus grieved too. And if Jesus is not your jam, I'm willing to bet there is someone in your religious or irreligious lineage who presented a walk through grief, too. I can think of countless gods and goddesses (because my son is a superfan of history and mythology, and I can’t say I don’t enjoy it too) throughout time immemorial who knew loss. Millions of earth siblings who we can look toward to see what grief looks like. It's one of the few things that is promised to our flesh and blood journeys, loves.
So, this Holy Week or regular week or some-kind-of-other-sacred-week-to-you, may you know with your grief is natural and normal. Maybe you can even take a moment to celebrate it. The capacity to grieve means that you have the capacity to love big and wide, darling.
Which ultimately, is what we're made for. Right?
As always, I’m here to chat about the way love and anything else these conversations bring up for you in your caregiving body, mind, soul, life. Feel free to reach out.
See you soon, soul friend.
New here? Dear Soul Tender is a safe, sacred space where you can find conversations and contemplations for those who mother, give (care) and grieve. Companioning you through complicated spaces including pain trauma, and loss, my promise here is to remind you of how to love well. Yourself, your kids, your neighbor, and the whole wide world.
Love the pics and love your message .
I found how real life, death and grief is after my mom passed away. It’s going to be 3 years in July, and I still grieve the loss of my mom. Grief doesn’t ever end. We just learn to manage, adjust, and create new memories without the person so dear to our hearts. I’ve come to realize more that Jesus is the only One who understands and will not forsake us by leaving us where we are at. I’ve lost friendships, lost myself in the process only to discover the new me after losing my mom. Because death changes you for sure. Life and death becomes a reality through the eyes of a new lens, and develop a sense of God’s perspective. Jesus is the only One who has truly been there for me… in my darkest times, loneliness of times and in the sleepless nights. I’ve learned through grief that the only One we can depend on is Jesus.
Just a suggestion make something out of the broken pieces of your nana’s bowl.
Because in reality, we live in a broken world that breaks us at times. But we have the creator, the author and finisher who puts us back to whole. Jesus , the name above all names. Much love Jennifer❤️🦋