Digging Deep with Loretta

 September going into October are heavy grieving months. Two weeks after my aunt quietly took her last breathe after battling cancer, my mother did the same. 

My aunt was surrounded by her dearest loved ones in the comfort of her home. I remember when I got the text from my cousin. I cried for her. Such a significant loss.  

During her final weeks, my mother was admitted to the hospital. We chose not to update her of my aunt's condition because we felt she was in no condition to handle the news. We had no idea she had cancer. My naivety hung onto hope. She is STILL alive! She is STILL breathing. Just continue to love on her, I would tell everyone. Tell all my living siblings. There were five out of seven of us left. When they called us home to say our goodbyes, I clung to that hope. She's still alive. She's still breathing. No one could tell me otherwise. All she needed was for us to continue to love on her. As I rubbed her arms and held her hands and just squeezed her as tight as I could after her spirit left her body. Please come back, please.  

*Pictures are from Adrienne Jenik, The Grief Deck: Rituals, Meditations and Tools Moving through Loss  

Three years later, I cry for her. When days with the kids are hard. When my impatience for my daughter has reached an ugly part. When I look at my face and see hers. I honor her with my tears. I thank her for loving me in both realms. Life carries on with a peaceful undertone. A warm spiritual hug from mom 🧡🍂✨