Grief, Life, and Struggling to be Okay

 This is normally my favorite time of year. I drive north till I find color, so about an hour and a half or two. This is the season of light, brightness, and color, yet I feel down. My mom died in November and I feel the season will, going forward, weigh heavy on me. I feel the joy of my favorite season is gone. She would hate that for me. She would want me to enjoy life, but the grief anchors me to the shore. I can see out over the metaphorical harbor and the fear keeps me from moving.

I love the colors of fall. Although I live in Georgia now, the colors truly put on a show growing up in New Jersey, and I love traveling there in the fall. The yellows are predominant down here. There are some red and orange, but not a lot. The light though does not disappoint. It is so beautiful and soft falling through the trees. It shines down on me and reminds me of my mother. She shone so bright when she was alive. When the sun shines down, I imagine it is her shining down on me. 

The color show in Georgia is nothing to be missed. It takes a while for it to reach Georgia, but once it does, it takes your breath away. This giant tree is one of my favorite photos. I do not know the people. It was taken at a monastery in north Georgia.

This is my season, this is my happy time but did not go out and see the color this year. I did not go take some photos, I did not hike one bit, I struggled, I struggled every day to make her proud, but I also knew she would understand my grief. She would understand that I cannot seem to take a step. She would understand and sit and talk with me over coffee somewhere.

My mom was an amazing woman. She never met a stranger. She was a light that shone bright. November 17th she will be gone a year and my heart will break again. I have been told that the first year of grief is not the hardest and that the second is worse. I guess we shall see.

I have battled with depression since she left this earth. She guided me, listened, and was thrilled to see me when I could go to NJ and visit. I was her firstborn, it was she and I for nine years sharing a bedroom. I know it was hard on her being a single mom. My grandparents were great about her and I moving in. ( I was told, I was only 6 months old) My birth father wanted nothing to do with mom or me and she raised me with my grandparent's help. Sometimes it actually does take a village.

If you are going through a rough patch, reach out to friends, a counselor or if you are suicidal dial 988

I pray you are well and I feel I must quote Dori, just keep swimming. Life is hard, life sucks and is good, I pray you are well and please forgive me for being gone so long. This life is hard for me too.

God Bless you all, and remember to look for the light :)

Debbie

xoxoxox