A Dose of My Own Medicine

That moment when you have to put into practice, what you so often "preach"…

I recently lost my mother. She passed away after challenges with heart disease. My mother was in her late 70’s and some people may see her passing as somewhat expected—or, even accepted. However, my mother was a strong and fierce woman. She was of strong character and substance. She pushed through a stroke, multiple surgeries, and more. Each time she would let anyone who challenged her know, “I have all of my faculties!” My sister and I would laugh as she wanted all to know, to not count her out. I did not. …ever.

The moment we were told she passed, I cried like a baby. I kept crying on and off up until we laid her to rest. Then, I would cry looking at the things she had gifted me over the years. She was very specific about certain things, too. I displayed the things she gave me, even if they did not quite match my home décor. They matched my heart. Since her passing, I have displayed more of things that remind me of her. Throughout the day my heart cries a sometimes silent. Most of the time, it is not so silent.

In those most painful moments I write. Writing has always been a reservoir for both my pain and my joy. When I am reflecting on memories and moments of my mother, I often express a soft cry. I am not often a public crier--tears are precious, and most often private. Reflective journaling helped me with my private, silent tears. Reflecting on my mother's words, actions, and her free-will, was everything! As I wrote and reflected, I found myself smiling through the tears. Mother would be so touched at the pages of memories I have about her. Reflective journaling supports the healing process, indeed.