Four years ago today, my mother drew her last breath, stilled her heart and surrendered to the ever-after.

It has been four years of healing, growth, transforming pain into wisdom, opening to the spiritual nature of life and death and moving deeper into being embodied in this one life I am living now.

I wrote the poem below a year after mom’s death, still in thick of Covid’s thrall, and still aligning to this expected yet, still surprising role as, as a motherless child

At the time, I shared it on my Facebook page and this morning FB Memories brought it forward. I am grateful. In the wake of my sister’s death last November 24, it is a comforting and welcome reminder of grief’s erratic and capricious nature If you are walking within grief’s aura, I hope it brings you comfort too.

Grief is Messy.
by Louise Gallagher

Grief is messy.
It follows no well-known path
travelling to the beat
of its own drum
as it pummels your defences
pushing its way through the boundaries
you desperately put in place
to keep its presence at bay.

Grief is stealthy
It dresses up in familiar clothing
masquerading as your best friend
while it sneaks in through the side door
of memory, stealing into
the broken places
of your heart
you want desperately to avoid touching.

There is no taming grief.
There is only its heavy cloak
of companionship
wearing you down
until one day
you find yourself arriving at that place
where moments spent wrapped
in grief’s company
die away
as softly as the sweet melody
of the voice
of the one who is gone
fading into memory.

And for life on ther lighter side, I’ve posted one of Beau’s blogs on Sundays with Beaumont this morning. As always, he wins! 🙂