Building grief airplanes.

Yesterday was my mom's birthday. I leaned in.

I had half a newsletter typed and then my dumb iPhone got in the way.

Even though it was on Do Not Disturb, I made the mistake of checking my notifications. My eyeballs encountered a poorly timed message that took me on a bit of an emotional detour (the mood meter would’ve put me FIRMLY in the enraged square) and I lost my flow. So, instead of my well-articulated thoughts on bravery versus courage, you’re getting some rawness. 

Yesterday, my mom would’ve turned 59.

Birthdays weren’t really an event in my family. There’d typically be a cake and your favorite meal, but they were kind of just another day. In fact, if I’m being honest, I ended up in tears on my birthday quite a bit because my expectations never matched reality. So, when March 19th was approaching, I wasn’t filled with memories of a grand 50th birthday we threw for my mom or birthday traditions (although there was a tablecloth for a little bit that I literally remembered right now, see what writing does). But, because I’m not a robot, I knew the date and my mom was on my mind, truthfully, probably more so than if she were alive. 

I’m about to use a very exhausted analogy. I apologize in advance.

Grief is like building an airplane as you're flying. You might think you have your plan to successfully navigate the day all figured out and then you open your eyes and it feels all wrong. Because I’ve built one too many grief airplanes, I went into the day with a minute-by-minute approach and a few ideas to honor my mom if I felt called. Ultimately, I decided to lean in.

Here’s how I remembered my mom.

I made a meal she would’ve wanted–steak tips, stuffed mushrooms, and a big hunk of bread with butter. I also bought some flowers for the house. I don’t really care for inside flowers that much, but my mom loved them. I finished up the night with a strawberry shortcake cupcake—two of her favorite desserts combined.

It actually turned out to be a great way to remember her AND my dad. It was my first time grilling steak tips.  My dad was a master grill guy and somehow the whole meal ended up tasting like something he cooked. I sobbed the second I took a bite and was transported back to Sunday night dinners. I got a dose of heartbreak, but also scored a heap of good memories. 

Grief is messy. Life is messy. I’m just glad I had the courage to embrace the whole lot yesterday. 

So here’s to you mom–I’m sure dad’s steak tips were divine (DEATH PUN INTENDED), but mine were pretty stinkin’ good.

If you vote yes on this poll, I would LOVE to hear a little bit about the person or how you’re feeling about that looming date.

Feel free to drop a comment or send me an email.

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