“Wait for me, Mommy!” I looked up, shielding my eyes from the brilliant sun, and searched for the owner of the little voice. In a field of wildflowers, I saw a little girl knee-deep in dew-kissed blossoms. She was wearing a simple sundress belted around the middle. Her golden hair danced playfully in the gentle breeze and the shimmering light formed a beautiful aura around her diminutive form. She struggled to add one last flower to the robust bouquet before making her way over the decaying log that separated the flowers and the dusty path from which she had ventured. It was then I saw the oversized rain boots that adorned her feet. I chuckled as I considered her fashion choice – clunky but clearly a beloved part of her wardrobe.
“I’m right here, little one,” her mother reassured. A few feet from the child, she was waiting – arms outstretched, face filled with love, entire being glowing with pride. The little girl smiled brightly, tightened her grip on the purple and yellow blooms, and clumsily scampered to meet her. It was a beautiful setting for the loving reunion. They embraced, giggled, and turned toward the light to continue their journey together.
I watched as the pair made their way up a small hill in the distance. Rather than take purposeful and lengthy strides, the mother matched her daughter’s shorter and less experienced gait. Time seemed irrelevant as they ambled along sharing precious moments with one another. My heart swelled as memories of time spent with my own mother flooded my senses. I leaned against the back of the bench, closed my eyes, and savored each one. I could imagine the tenderness in her deep brown eyes as she looked at me. I could feel the strength in her delicate hand as it cradled mine. I could hear the encouragement in her persuasive voice as she whispered, “I am always here. I have given you what you need. It is time to let your light shine.”
When I opened my eyes, the little girl and her mother were long gone, the chattering birds had settled, and the sun had relinquished its prominent position in the afternoon sky. I rose from the bench feeling comforted – peaceful. It had been a beautiful afternoon.
The journey through grief takes time – to contemplate, to heal, to evolve. It follows a winding path that permeates what remains. I inhaled deeply, squared my shoulders, and exhaled slowly. I have not gotten over the death of my mom. I have become stronger. I have not forgotten the pain of losing her. I focus on the tremendous love we shared. I have not lost her support. I take the best parts of her with me as I mindfully, authentically, and purposefully step into the life that remains.