Grief, ever-present lingered heavily in our midst this weekend. This morning, grey skies hang low, creating a world where air hangs heavy and still in sympathy with the river whose flow is stifled by ice covering its surface. The quality of the air we breathe holds ‘Moderate Risk’ the weather report states. Burdened with humanity’s careless offerings it clings close to the earth, reluctant to disperse.
In this world, we are like specters of loss, breathing shallowly as though each inhalation risks sweeping away the delicate memories of those departed. It’s as if letting go of these recollections would affirm the unbearable truth of their absence.
Frozen in grief’s clutches, our blood struggles to circulate, our hearts labour to beat under the weight of memories clutched too tightly.
This weekend past, my daughter and I, alongside one of my brother-in-law’s daughters, embarked on the poignant and heart-wrenching task of sifting through my sister Jackie’s belongings. Her wardrobe—a tapestry of her life—dresses, scarves, jewelry, all infused with her essence. Treasured keepsakes nestled in a jeweled box, a gift from our parents in her teens: cards, handwritten notes, photos, ticket stubs, even her Air Canada ‘wings’, and our brother’s high school ring. Among these, a pair of tiny gold scissors and a spool of thread.
Jackie, a seamstress whose passion for sewing wove joy into our lives, created snowsuits, Easter dresses, Halloween costumes, and doll clothes for my daughters. Her craft was meticulous, her stitches a testament to her precision.
But time and arthritis cruelly claimed the dexterity of her fingers. Her love for sewing gradually receded into memory, leaving behind fabrics, ribbons, and threads, which she generously donated to charity.
In her craft room, her sewing machine and serger stood silent, shrouded in protective covers, awaiting a new home.
We found solace in redistributing her clothes. The Pashmina one of our cousin’s from India gave her, now part of my wardrobe, feels like an embrace from Jackie. The bracelet my middle sister, Anne, and I gave her for her 75th birthday is on my wrist. Other pieces are packed away for me to take to Anne when I fly to Vancouver next month. Some, my daughters kept to remember her by and others we shared with friends who wanted tokens of remembrance.
Yet, the abundance of her possessions led us, my youngest daughter and I, to fill our SUVs and donate to an agency aiding women entering the workforce. “Jackie would be pleased,” my brother-in-law remarked. Indeed, she always extended a helping hand to those in need.
Her personal items have left the home, but the ache of their absence lingers. Waves of grief wash over me, each tide a reminder of what we’ve lost in Jackie’s passing. Each breath full of the pain of letting go.
I find myself hoping, irrationally, that shallow breaths might lessen the sharpness of loss. Yet, deep down, I know life and death don’t bend to such wishes. I sometimes fantasize it’s all a dream, only to be jolted back by the vivid memory of her final breath, my hand resting on her forehead, the chill of the November air as I left the hospital, the flight to Vancouver where I gazed through the plane’s window, seeking her essence in the clouds.
In these moments of remembrance, grief slips away as I soak in the gratitude of having had a sister such as Jackie. And as I breathe into the stillness of my memories, I wonder… was that Jackie’s voice reminding me to breathe?
Dare Boldly 
Thinking of you all and sending love ❤️
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Oh Louise thank you for giving me some courage to voice grief and loss f my own. In the past year I’ve seen eight close friends and a cousin and a brother pass, the latter two very suddenly. Sometimes the loss is a punch in the face with a mailed fist and at other times it’s gruesomely light and ethereal but I’m just now starting to find a way to address it. Onward I guess and thanks for your courageous example. Namaste
John
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Ahhh John, so many losses in such a short time. I have been thinking a lot about time and loss and aging recently. To talk about it, to share our journey through it, to know that we are not alone, to know that this part of our journey, a beautiful tapestry of life, love and loss that is full of memory and still, much possibility for more life, love and loss.
Take courage my friend. Much love. Namaste. ❤
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It is always a hard task to go through the physical aspects of the life departed from. It makes it final in a way that their absence hasn’t.
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That is the hard part isn’t it Bernie — just how final it makes it all. At the same time, for my brother-in-law, though it makes it harder, I hope it it eases his pain to not have so many personal reminders of her throughout the house and give him grace to move through this transition less burdened by things as he cherishes the beautiful memories of her.
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In some ways easier to have it gone and in some much harder.
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So sorry for your loss. Let her essence envelop you, and hold you in the warm memories.
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Thank you Angeline. ❤
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what a lovely reflection of how to deal with the passing on of a life. I will be doing this with my sister and niece before too long
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I am so sorry that you too will have to do this soon Beth. My brother-in-law’s daughter and I were talking about how the only way to do it is to, as much as humanly possible, unhook memory from ‘the things’ to cherish only the memories and to focus on ‘the task at hand’. I had to keep reminding myself throughout the weekend to ‘don’t think., just do.’ ❤ I kept the things that hold her close to me — within reason. I had to quit thinking about all we were giving away as 'her' and focus instead on the gift it will all be to the women who receive her clothes so they can move forward with their lives, knowing that Jackie would be so thrill to be making a difference. ❤
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such a great way to look at it
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Gorgeous group of lucky ladies. Thank you for sharing your grief journey. Odd how little things when least expected remind one of someone gone. And then sometimes we spiral all over again. Keep writing, dear friend.
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Thank you Lisa. And yes, it is odd and yet, so integral to the process of loving someone, always.
Fortunately, writing helps me stay in the flow of life, no matter what I am experiencing. <3
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