When There’s Nothing Left to Grieve

“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison

and expecting the other person to die.” ~ Buddha

 

There are many who have wonderful relationships with their mother, and it’s something to be cherished. Alas, many don’t.

 

One of the most empowering things you can do is heal and cherish yourself.

 

My mother died this week.

Ours was a tumultuous relationship that worked when I didn’t speak up, didn’t question, or call out what I saw. I submitted to this for many years to keep the peace, to uphold the unspoken family obligations, and to try to finally receive the love my younger self craved.

But there was always a dangling carrot, and for a long time I wondered what I did wrong to not feel supported, nor included.

There were long periods of no contact through the years, especially when I went deep into my own healing.

 

But that craving for the carrot always drew me back.

 

I explored some of the deeper patterns during the initial writing of The Impact of Silence. Moving beyond the present tense and deeper with my younger self to heal her wounds.

I made the conscious decision to work through the layers, because the anger I held only poisoned me and was a big part of the cancer experienced in my right breast. During my career on Wall Street, it was easy to bypass what I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t make the time, but bypassing didn’t work.

 

The unresolved always came back.

 

As young children, many of us take on the wounds of our parents, some of it via the DNA passed through to us. Some from the environment of our formative years. I came to understand where the lack of inclusion and punishment via silence originated, the torment experienced, and through this the knowing that I did nothing wrong, other than speak of and question what I saw and experienced.

 

With healing came the space of feeling completely neutral toward her.

 

The stories and the old pain had no more impact on me. There’s too much we carry that isn’t ours and was never ours to carry in the first place.

Her health failed relatively quickly, and with it came more layers of healing with my younger self. My last conversation with her about a month ago ended with me telling her, “I love you and I’m thinking of you.” My wish for her is that she be at peace.

The words were said, and it feels complete.

 

There is nothing more to grieve. 

 

In the days since her passing, I’ve had an unfamiliar feeling of deeper calm.

 

There are no more dangling carrots to chase. 

 

What’s profound is that it feels like my nervous system can finally fully relax for the first time in over 60 years. A feeling I didn’t realize I was missing.

 

With it comes whole new levels of peace.