As I work on the book with Dad, I am drenched in memories and find myself obsessively looking at photos of my mother. She’s around 20 in the photos and just starting her adult life.
I am loving it, but it’s also overwhelming. Knowing the path that lies ahead of her… Last night I walked in the rain and cried, allowing the grief to present itself. I then let myself process it in my journal. I did a quick interpretation of mom with china marker and acrylic on newsprint. Then wrote on top and just let the words flow and the pain in the chest release. Very therapeutic.
… desperately seeking Karin. Looking at old photos as I prepare our book and I am struck by mom’s beauty and innocence as she starts her life with dad. I am struck by the knowledge I have, but she didn’t have then, of what lay ahead. I am shattered by the thought that she would lose her mother when she was just age 28. I can’t imagine. She was a motherless daughter as she struggled through raising us. But she loved so fiercely. She lived. She raised us as a mom should – with full bellies, clean clothes, tons of support and enthusiasm and safety, With mom, I felt safe…
I’m not avoiding. I’m dealing. And loving the process. And very grateful to Dad for his meticulous photo albums.
Beautiful post. This is a tearjerker.