My Own Private Grief
I have a business coach I have been working with since the beginning of this year. One of the reasons I like about this coach is that she takes a wholistic approach of coaching. Even though the main focus is my business, she insists on me informing her of everything that’s happening in my life. I appreciate her making that an important element of her coaching. Inevitably she watched me through the saga of my mom’s journey to the new realm. Since mom passed more than a month ago now, she has been “suggesting” me to take time off to grieve, especially now. Even though she was very sensitive about my mind state when I got back from Japan after being there to clean up my mom’s apartment and seeing her to say good bye, she wanted to make sure I am processing this loss sufficiently as it is a monumental event in my life.
I took heed and took up some time to go through mom’s photos thinking I will create some kind of a slide show to share with friends, which I probably will. I also “set aside time” to meditate or think about her in a way that would honor her spirit and her journey. Yet the reality has been that such time seems to evade me. If I’m busy, happy and excited about the new opportunities and connections I’m making, does it mean I’m not grieving? I think not. It’s not that I’m not thinking about her at all. In fact, I think about her all the time — when I take out some dishes I brought back from her apartment to serve food; when I wear a sweater she knitted; and seeing some wild flowers out in the field. But I’m not missing her like I miss my cat because my life didn’t change so dramatically because of her passing whereas my cat left a big void.
They say you can never be ready enough for eminent loss no matter how long you anticipated it. And the truth is I was ready a long time ago, and at the same time, I was never ready. I guess I don’t know what it means to be “ready” anyway — if there’s such a thing. Or is there such thing as “complete” with the grieving process? Probably not. It is surreal to think that I no longer have to plan my trips to Japan around going back to my hometown to see my mom. O.K. This actually brings tears in my eyes — and feelings arose in this moment.
Writing these words, I am coming to realize that my grieving is my own private process. It doesn’t have to look or feel certain way. I don’t have to make the “grieving” happen at certain hours of the day. It comes when it comes, and each loss is different. It is O.K. for me to stay busy if that’s what my life is presenting while grief is still present in my heart. I must trust my own ability to navigate this process. I must trust the Dharma.