And all of it was love

Since my mom died, I have felt concerned that I am not crying. Not mourning. It seemed there was no grief left in me. Perhaps, I thought, I had already let her go - already grieved. As she was suffering for so long, the mother I knew was mostly gone - and I had done a great deal of letting go already.Yet, this strange coldness puzzled me. No, it wasn't coldness. I felt relieved, exhausted and released. I also felt a tight hot pressure in the center of my chest - a bruised feeling at the front of my ribcage, which ached when I touched it. And just beneath the breastbone, on the inside, an insatiable hunger - I could not find the 'right' food to eat. Nothing satisfied me. (I gained five pounds (and then another five) in the search for... what flavor was it?)

Then, this morning, I awoke, my mind filled with music and memories of being with her in happier times. There she was - and there was the grief - like a dam bursting. I spent two hours recording stories and remembering - tears gently flowing - the good and the not so great.But all of it was real - and all of it was Mom. And all of it was love.