My 4^th grade best friend’s mother just died. In 4^th grade, we had 3 little wooden figures we played with in class, and planned our trip to London to meet the Beatles. Growing up, we were in the same peer group – not close, but around, including at reunions and events as the years went by. Her mom was great – a regular in the neighborhood, who I’d see at the grocery store or out and about until just recently. I cannot claim to have known her well, not like some of my other classmates, but she was a fixture, a part of our history. I think of continuity and connection over time as I mourn her passing, and the passing of that generation of moms and dads who saw us through our youth – some lovingly, some not, but a part of who we are today. I feel for my old friend.

Another friend, who lost her mother as a young teen, once said, “Losing your mom was probably easier for you because she lived so long.” She apologized after I started to cry. For those of us close to our mom’s (acknowledging that not everyone is), losing her is hard at any age. The thing with my mom's long life is that she was always there. I did, childishly, think she would live forever. For me, much of the grieving was around change – change in my running routes, change in how my little family celebrates, change in how I spent my time, loss that left me feeling untethered in the world. Change sometimes comes with pluses, but change resulting from loss has been hard to adjust to. At first I cried daily (I probably shouldn’t have been allowed to drive for the 6 months preceding and 6 months after) then weekly, and slowly over time the tears come just every so often, prompted by a song, the realization that I can't just pick up the phone to call her, a sunny day...  What I was told when she was dying is that those who’ve lost their mothers understand, and our grief is solitary and specific.

Grief is another of my recurring themes. How can it not be? This is a season of loss, approaching the 1 year anniversary of 3 friends who died last autumn - Jayna, Grace, and Janet. The world is a little quieter without their laughter, a little emptier without their presence. The same goes for my friend's niece, a beautiful young woman gone too soon. And, October brings the anniversary of mom's passing - 6 years now.

 I will say that everything healthy I know about grief has been learned since entering recovery.  A feeling of dis-ease used to hit me in August. Once I heard someone share about the anniversary phenomenon, I understood that it was a visceral memory of losing my dad in August of 1980, a loss I didn't have words for at the time. I've learned from others, and from experience, that it is way, way better to grieve in the moment, because the feelings will definitely find a way out at some point or another if you don't. I used to think that grieving was time limited, finite, and sometimes chastise myself for "still" feeling sad, though not for long these days. I've learned that grieving is a sign of love, and that while the intensity may abate over time, the loss is always there.

So as this glorious fall season begins, with beauty and with sadness, with life and with death in the natural world and my own, I will light a candle as the days get shorter. I will reflect on warm memories. I will honor those who have gone on.

What do you do when feelings of grief and loss arise? How do you honor your loved one(s) and practice gentleness with yourself?