Losing you felt like losing everything. Like the front steps in my childhood home on Ely Lake, you were home base, the safe place. Where after running around the yard being chased by your older brother and a handful of neighborhood kids, you could finally catch your breath. That was you. Geography irrelevant, wherever you were was always my home.
Without you life is scattered. Family is spread across the country and the relationships are not quite the same because you aren't here to keep us together, to inform us about everyone else's everything. You were our social media. You were what kept us connected. If any of you were the lucky recipient of my mom's Christmas cards, you know exactly what I mean.
Losing you left me untethered. But, we all found ways to move on. Get married, have kids, find new jobs, move, etc. I ground myself in work, swim meets, soccer games, Girl Scouts, and piano lessons, without which I may just float away. Because being busy makes it so I don't have to feel the enduring grief, the hard stuff.
I struggle to stay present, clinging to my little family and the day to day grind that keeps clicking away even when I don't want to get it out of bed. I grieve for J1 and J2, who grow up without knowing what a safe place Grandma Jean was to me, and would have also been to them.
Losing you felt like being lost. It still kind of does, to be honest. Yet, I know that my calling is to be the safe place for J1 and J2. It feels so hard to build that foundation for them, while missing what kept me grounded. For 20+ years my life was defined, in part, by you. It is unsettling that each year it becomes less so as I carve my own path and shape my life into what it has become. But maybe that is how what was lost becomes found. Finding myself in my own style of motherhood. Keeping the best parts of you, your fierce love of family, your willingness to take the extra time to do things just right. And improving on the other stuff, e.g., a perpetual lack of punctuality, and borderline hoarding tendencies.
There is a part of me that will likely never be found because it just isn't the same without you. But what is different has given me the blessing of being part of a happy, healthy family, with which to redefine myself as a mother and wife.
