I was re-reading a book on grief, subtitled "How the Soul Grows Through Loss" this morning. On the front cover of the book there is a picture of a blue heron, I think, or maybe a crane?...I didn't pay enough attention when my dad was taking us on nature walks when we were little...I feel like this bird today, staring into the expanse of the future just as this bird stares into the vast ocean. It's very hard to explain in words, one of those moments in life that is perhaps better explained in pictures.

I am struck often by the writer's musings after having lost his wife, mother, and daughter in a car accident...so much incredible loss to take in at once. I am amazed that he was not emotionally paralyzed. He writes, months, maybe even years, after the accident:

"If I want transformation, I must let go of my regrets over what could have been and pursue what can be. But what I cannot have is the best of both worlds: the growth that has transformed my life as a result of this tragedy and the people whose death engendered that growth. There is a bitter irony here that cannot be avoided, however much we grow through loss. The people whose death enabled me to change for the better are the very people with whom I would most like to share these changes. Their death has forced me to grow; I wish now that they could benefit from the growth that has resulted from their death."

--from A Grace Disguised by Jerry Sittser

I'm not sure I'm at the point yet where I feel transformed in any way by losing my mom. I do feel like I've grown, because I've had to. I have been forced to swallow emotions that threaten to shred my heart just so I can complete my work or focus on my stepdaughter's face as she tells me about school. I have read books on pregnancy and motherhood because I need information and don't have my best resource available anymore. I have cried alone many, many days because it is unfair after a while to expect those around me to continue to grieve with me. I have forced myself not to consider how many days I have yet to live without my mom and instead focus on just today.

I do think she would love to share the changes I have undergone, and I know she would benefit by watching our whole family grow and learn and change. The maturing process in me is still incomplete, and I wish I could know how rich my relationship with my mom could have become in the stages of my life I haven't yet reached.

I selected a Mother's Day card for John's mom and realized that was the only card I needed to buy. The disappointment was staggering. I held the single card in my hand for nearly 5 minutes before walking to the register.

Thank you, Mom, for being the best mother I could ever have imagined. There was nothing I needed that you didn't provide, nothing I wanted that you wouldn't have sacrificed everything to give me.