my grief is an adult today

Today, 18 years ago, I went home to visit my mom and found her dead.

Eighteen years ago, a grief baby was born.

He has held me down, in place, while the rest of me ran. Ran away to the west coast, ran away in my consciousness, ran away to give to kids.

Today, I am asking him to leave. He is old enough. I have learned what I can from him for the time being. I now need some space. Space for my heart to reopen and reconsider what it means to love. I need space to breathe, where the first story about me isn't even about me. Where I can shine the light without the backdrop of darkness shrouding the truth.

It was complex, neither good nor bad. Both and. All of it and none of it. I studied it for years and found what I could. Wrote a whole book about it, trying to piece together what happened and how I responded. Trying to own what is mine and what is not.

Grief child, I thank you for your service. I thank you for your depth of being. I thank you for all the lessons and the love and protection you tried to bestow upon me. Today, I am asking you to leave. It is time for me to live without you and see what life has to offer me. Your dark blanket will always be comfortable, but I no longer want its heavy weight. I am ready for something more.

Mom, I love you. I will always love you.

Thank you.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

Please forgive me.