It’s been more than two weeks since my mother passed away suddenly. I’m back home, trying to get myself “together” before returning to work next week.
For the last couple of days I’ve felt like I’m still going around in circles. I’m here but not here. I know that there are a thousand things that I could – should – be doing, but I don’t know where to begin. Yesterday I moved from task to task. I volunteered in the morning at the new cultural and community centre, helping to get ready for the official opening that takes place today. I made it to the piano for about a half hour. I started a new painting. But even doing all that it has felt like the day dragged – that I was standing outside my body … watching the world pass me by.
It’s hard to explain the sense of loss, and even more difficult to respond to the ever-repeating question, “How are you coping?” There was so much to do in the lead up to the funeral that I think my sister and I were running on autopilot. Family members were at the house every day. While you’re grateful for the support, it doesn’t leave you much time to grieve. I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep well when I was in Halifax, and I’m not sleeping well now that I’m home in Sherbrooke. And much like I was doing in the days leading up to the funeral, I’m trying to keep busy as if that will help to ground me, one more time plant my feet on solid ground.
I want to believe that death does not have dominion here but …
My mother’s death, so unexpected, caught me off guard. And now I’m left with so many questions. How can I move myself closer to my dreams? What is it that we are really doing here on this planet called Earth? What about life after death … is there something beyond this life? Am I truly realizing my fullest potential? If not, why is that? Am I being true to myself?
What am I supposed to do now?
Despite the sadness in my heart, I know I must find a way to keep on keeping on. And I will. One day at a time.
For the last couple of days I’ve felt like I’m still going around in circles. I’m here but not here. I know that there are a thousand things that I could – should – be doing, but I don’t know where to begin. Yesterday I moved from task to task. I volunteered in the morning at the new cultural and community centre, helping to get ready for the official opening that takes place today. I made it to the piano for about a half hour. I started a new painting. But even doing all that it has felt like the day dragged – that I was standing outside my body … watching the world pass me by.
It’s hard to explain the sense of loss, and even more difficult to respond to the ever-repeating question, “How are you coping?” There was so much to do in the lead up to the funeral that I think my sister and I were running on autopilot. Family members were at the house every day. While you’re grateful for the support, it doesn’t leave you much time to grieve. I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep well when I was in Halifax, and I’m not sleeping well now that I’m home in Sherbrooke. And much like I was doing in the days leading up to the funeral, I’m trying to keep busy as if that will help to ground me, one more time plant my feet on solid ground.
I want to believe that death does not have dominion here but …
My mother’s death, so unexpected, caught me off guard. And now I’m left with so many questions. How can I move myself closer to my dreams? What is it that we are really doing here on this planet called Earth? What about life after death … is there something beyond this life? Am I truly realizing my fullest potential? If not, why is that? Am I being true to myself?
What am I supposed to do now?
Despite the sadness in my heart, I know I must find a way to keep on keeping on. And I will. One day at a time.
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