The Way of Things

It’s the way of things. We come into the world, we live for a time, we depart. As for the appearance, I don’t know how much choice is involved. From the river of souls, did I choose this vessel to inhabit? And for the living, how do I know how it is done? Purpose. What is expected? How do I do it? What are the rules of the game? How is it meant to be played? Meaning. What’s it all about? Why do we play this game?

I don’t know how anyone prepares for loss. Even when it’s not a surprise, it still sears and shatters. So I keep reminding myself that it’s the way of things. Acceptance. I’m working on acceptance. I think about purpose. And meaning. The cosmic goo of existence. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. My mother and my other mother, dear birdies, both left us in January. Mom, a year ago, Meredith, now. I am so lucky to have so many mothers. Did I learn what they needed to teach me? Am I ready for life? Can I teach my children what they need to know?

I’m missing my mothers, these mothers who mothered so many. How many people are missing my mothers this day? So many of us! A veritable tribe. They’re not truly gone. They live on in me, in us, this broad and wide family they embraced for the time that they had breath.

My mothers taught me much. Not so much with words or directions, but in the ways they lived their own lives. Fierce. Proud. Protective. Stubborn. Steadfast. Unwavering. Compassionate. Tenacious. Defiant. Reliable. Resourceful. Cooperative. Helpful. Loving. Imaginative. Creative. Playful. Competitive. Sharp. Enduring. Inclusive. Nurturing. Strong. Mighty. Humble. Simple. Friendly.

I am so very rich for the life they shared with me.