Phases of mourning

I’m noticing a kind of progression through phases of mourning.

At first, there was the complete shock. Like a bomb went off. The full impact, all at once. And total disbelief.

Shortly after that, my thoughts focused on how you died and the moment you lost consciousness. My mind needed to picture your last scene, and conjuring it up was very painful, but necessary. What were you doing? Where were you? What was your last thought?

I’m still in disbelief, but your absence has become a little more obvious.

In this current phase of mourning I find myself mourning specific things about you, and the comfort those things brought me.

Like your loving nature. Your energy. How you loved to shower us with gifts and love. Your wisdom and advice. Your endless support.

Just now, I was thinking about how much I’m going to miss your energy and how you kept us all tied together as a family. You kept us in touch, kept us seeing each other…and I started crying.

You kept this family running. I found myself replying to you as if you’d held me and reassured me that it would be ok. Like you did when I was a boy. Like you did anytime i needed as a man, too:

“It will all be ok, sweetie. Don’t worry. Don’t cry.”

“I’m trying, mom.”