When my mother died, pieces of me were lowered into the earth with her. Portions of my heart and soul left the moment she did. Just as permanently gone as she is and will always be.
Today, I realized that portions of my grief were so consuming it was as if my body was buried with her. As if I was lost too. And while I lost bits and pieces, and while I lost the part of me who had a mother, I am not lost completely.
I am not lowered into the earth, six-feet-under with no life or breath, though some days it has felt like it.
I am still here.
Living.
Breathing.
Being.
We need to remember this simple truth in grief: We remain. We hold purpose that remains to be achieved. We hold love left to give. Influence left to gift. Legacies left to create and craft.
While grief can kill pieces of those of us left on earth mourning. It did not steal our days. It did not steal our unique and purposeful design to be here, in this moment.
We have been blessed with more days, more breaths, more moments, and more memories. We simply have to take them.
As I feel immense grief today, I remind myself to not allow one death to multiply to two. I will not allow grief to paralyze the legacy left to me when my mother passed. Like the baton passed in running track, she entrusted me with her life’s work, to never be forgotten, which means I need to live for both of us. For she would die again, over and over, if she knew that her death also stole the potential of my future.
I will live with grief, forever. But only because I vow to always keep living, even on days I feel the pressure and weight of six feet of dirt and dust and heartbreak.
My purpose remains and so does yours. Let’s not allow death to multiply prematurely. Instead, let’s explore the purpose in the added moments of our time here and the priceless legacy we were crowned with.
