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| My mom (wearing her rings from Don, her 4th husband) and me, July 2013 |
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| Mom's ring from my step-dad Don, who's now nearly 98, which I had planned to return to him. |
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| Wearing some of my mother's rings for a last time, July 16th. |
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| One ring which my mother had already given to me, and a ring with diamonds connected with my mom, my father, and my grandmother. |
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| Treasured times gathered together as four generations, which includes grandsons Matt, Kevin, and Brian, and great-grandchildren Ethan, Eleanor, and Oliver. |
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| At my mother's Glenwood Place apartment for a final time to say goodbye to so much, July 15, 2020. |
More About Love...
This will be short and bittersweet.
This morning my husband took all of my mother's jewelry to the contact person in Portland who will be responsible for the transfer of her jewelry to the Larsons (not their real name) on the other side of the country.
Yesterday I visited my mother's apartment for a final time. This morning the remainder of her belongings were also to be sent off to this other family. (For anyone unaware of our story, one glimpse can be found here: https://mollystrongheart.blogspot.com/2020/07/remembering-my-mom.html.)
Today I am feeling the full impact of the brutality of greed. And, in my heart, it's so incomprehensible to me how anyone can be capable of such heartlessness. My heart cannot understand this depth of cruelty.
The waves are strong right now as I am feeling these losses at the hands of this other family — who are connected to my mother's third, but not last marriage — who fought for years to fuel our estrangement, to replace me for their own financial gain, and then to keep my mother from ever making peace with me and moving to live near her family here in the Pacific Northwest. And as I feel these waves of emotion and loss, I am struck with how brutal and devastating greed is.
I grieve for all that cannot be passed onto my sons from their grandmother. And I grieve that I will never be able to wear any of my mom's jewelry or pass any of it on to Eleanor and any other granddaughter I may have some day. Just a lot of grieving...
There are also so many teachings here. I'm conscious of the lessons related to impermanence and letting go. And gratitude. And what really matters.
I'm conscious of the need to breathe deeply in the midst of many tears. And take a step back. And remember the larger picture.
Related to grief: Everything is impermanent. Including the grief I am in today. This will lose its power as I allow myself to feel through all that hurts so much right now. Today I don't need to push away my deep sorrow at so many losses. I don't need to minimize or deny or channel what's happening into getting stuck in resentment, revenge, or hatred. Instead I can just allow it to be what it is. Oh, sadness. Yes, anger. Yes, more waves of tears. I get to say yes to whatever is and allow my experiences to flow through me, again and again, rather than get stuck and solidify within me. For this, I am grateful.
Related to greed: Although my heart is devastated right now, I'm also aware that the impact of greed on my life and that of my family is not like that of countless others who — because of the greed inherent in our predatory neoliberal capitalist system — are struggling to meet even their most basic needs for housing, healthcare, food, employment, and safety. Unlike millions of others in America, and billions worldwide, I am not struggling to simply survive because of racial and economic systems of profound injustice, inequality, and greed which are at the root of unfathomable suffering and death. At the same time that I recognize the abundance of my life, I also grieve for those whose great suffering is continuing unabated. And, of deep importance related to greed — I am not capable of this brutality. Generosity, love and compassion, and working to alleviate the suffering of others is the core of my spiritual path. For this, I am grateful.
Related to impermanence and letting go: I am able to recognize the truth of impermanence and the ebb and flow of life and death. Each day I am doing my best to face head on the need to do the deep heart work of letting go, including of that which can feel so painful, unjust, and unfair. My tears are fluid and cleansing and serve to break my heart open again and again so that, ultimately and over time, more space for love, generosity, kindness, compassion, and wisdom can be created and nourished. I am mindful of what I am planting in the garden of my heart and know the potential value of life's hard experiences to be transformed into that which deepens my capacity to love. For this, I am grateful.
Related to gratitude and love: Most of all what I'm experiencing each day now — along with missing my mama with all my heart — is my profound gratitude for and love of my mom. I don't have her jewelry or other larger physical belongings. But I comb my hair with her hairbrush. I use her lipsticks. I wear her nighties and the few other things of hers that fit me. I hold in my heart and soul the countless memories that have broken all that I once believed to be true about my once seriously narcissistic mother. I was told in November 1977 by a therapist that I would need to grieve my mother like a death. That's how severely mentally ill and lost my mom was. She was simply unable to give or receive love. Never did anyone believe it possible that in 2013 at the age of 87 that my mama would begin to take down the fortified walls that had engulfed her heart for over eight decades. Then it wasn't until June 20th that I began to grieve in earnest the actual physical death of my mama. Meanwhile, that gap between 2013 and 2020 was filled with love. So much love...
Nothing can ever take away this miracle and all the countless loving experiences which my mom and I shared over these past years and which will live on forever. The whole trajectory of our family has gone through a radical transformation. My mom and I have helped lead the way, demonstrating through our lived experiences the extraordinary power of love. For this, I am eternally grateful.
Heartfelt blessings to us all,
♥
— Molly
* * * * *
The Love That Will Not Die
Spiritual
awakening is frequently described
as
a journey to the top of a mountain.
We
leave our attachments and our worldliness
behind
and slowly make our way to the top.
At
the peak we have transcended all pain.
The
only problem with this metaphor is
that
we leave all the others behind --
our
drunken brother, our schizophrenic sister,
our
tormented animals and friends.
Their
suffering continues, unrelieved
by
our personal escape.
In
the process of discovering our true nature,
the
journey goes down, not up.
It’s
as if the mountain pointed toward the
center
of the earth instead of reaching into the sky.
Instead
of transcending the suffering of all creatures,
we
move toward the turbulence and doubt.
We
jump into it. We slide into it. We tiptoe into it.
We
move toward it however we can.
We
explore the reality and unpredictability
of
insecurity and pain, and we try not to push it away.
If
it takes years, if it takes lifetimes,
we
will let it be as it is. At our own pace,
without
speed or aggression,
we
move down and down and down.
With
us move millions of others,
our
companions in awakening from fear.
At
the bottom we discover water,
the
healing water of compassion.
Right
down there in the thick of things,
we
discover the love that will not die.
— Pema Chödrön
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