Hey there Reader

Last Friday, May 8th, was three months since Mom had her aneurysm, and I had been invited to attend, on her behalf, a Mother’s Day and breast cancer luncheon with the beautiful group of people she met with regularly.

I was also asked if I would wear one of her dresses, because there had been this slight fixation on Mom’s dresses, for reasons I won’t go into here, but they were gorgeous and funky, and so very her. I was also asked if I would walk down the runway, because they were having a fashion show, but not in the true sense, in the Hokianga way, which was walking down a carpet in amongst the tables.

I said yes, because I knew this was what Mom wanted, as I would not have been asked otherwise, and I wanted to honor her.

And I have had to laugh, because since she has passed, I have now worn a skirt, which was mine, and two dresses, which were hers, so she is finally getting what I would not do for her when I was four, when my Nana and Mom entered me into a fashion show and wanted me to wear dresses, but I refused both lol.

So now here I am, decades later, wearing her dresses and walking down a carpet in front of people. She is absolutely sitting there laughing at me. Got to love her. If you don’t first succeed, find a totally different way of getting what you want.

What surprised me about going, was that there was no dread, and not even a fleeting thought of, “oh what am I going to feel today?” I just went. And all I felt was this joy and happiness, which later I realized was my connection to Mom and what she was feeling.

My friend Nat came with me, and she wore one of Mom’s dresses too, and when we arrived the room was decorated beautifully, and there were a few of the people Mom met with that I knew, and many I didn’t. The lady who invited me said, “That lady over there has one of your mom’s dresses on.”

And that sent me into a really interesting space in my head, because I knew the dress, but I could not remember the last time I had seen it, and even more weirdly, I could feel Mom in the dress, but I could not access a picture of her wearing it. Then there was the added element that I had shared Mom’s dresses with very few people after she passed, like my sister-in-law and Nat, so my processing went straight into looking for the dots to join together. How did this lady get Mom’s dress?

As I was processing that, the lady came up and said, “Are you Wendy’s daughter, Melinda?” So we got talking, and she shared that she was wearing Mom’s dress, which by the way looked amazing on her, it was vibrant pink with big red flowers on it, and she told me Mom had brought some clothes down to share with others, and this was one of the pieces this lady had chosen.

My Mom. Always giving things away. But I get too that she was preparing at a level.

Now the jigsaw puzzle was complete, but I still could not access a picture of Mom in the dress, which felt weird, because I knew it, and I could feel her in it, but I could not see her in it. And then I got why, because Mom didn’t need me to. The energy of the dress was now with the person who was wearing it.

Then the lady said to me, “Do you realize you are sitting where your mom always sat?” I smiled and thought to myself, surprise me.

While I was sitting in the seat Mom used to sit in, I asked her why here, and I got the same reason I chose that seat. It was the position where you could see everyone and what was going on. The observer.

And then, even though my knees were together, I could feel the energy of my left leg forward and my right leg behind me, and I had this realization.

I know I tend to be someone who is fully in the situations I step into, but I have one leg in and one leg out, not because I am not participating, but because I do not attach to the situation.

I can be fully there, seeing, feeling, engaging, and taking in what is happening, while also having a part of me that is free from needing to belong to the room or be a total part of it.

And I realized Mom was actually exactly the same.

This was such new information for me, because she had always felt more attached than I was, but she wasn’t. We were more alike than I knew, in some areas.

Then came the fashion show, and the joy and happiness I had arrived with grew. Each of the ladies, were walked down the carpet by one of the gentlemen there, and I respectfully declined, because I knew I was there to channel Mom and what she would do in expressing herself.

So I danced down the carpet.

And I loved feeling so connected to her that day.

Which then led on to Mother’s Day two days later, and again, what was beautiful was that I felt so much joy and happiness. I could feel it in Mom.

Nat and her husband came over and shared the day with Alan and me, and we had brunch together and talked about our moms, which was really lovely, because it was just so honoring of not just my mom, all of our moms.

I was also grateful for my beautiful friend Barb, who reached out and cared about me and how I might be feeling, and for one of Mom’s best friends, who sent a text saying she was thinking of me on this day, one of the firsts. It is amazing how quickly the reaching out reduces after someone passes, so those moments of care meant a huge amount.

And on Mother’s Day, Mom said something to me that has stayed with me. She said, “One of the things I love now is I get to experience what you do and say in real time.”

And I so get this, because earlier in the week, I had gone to a meeting, and when I came out of it, I immediately wanted to call Mom. Of course, she wasn’t there to do that with, and that is such a strange part of grief, because the human still reaches for the old form. The phone call. The visit. The conversation. The ability to say, “you will never guess what happened.”

But what I heard her say was, “I get to see and hear you in these situations now, and I get to know you in a different way.”

And it was so cool, because I knew when Mom was unresponsive, and when she passed, that our relationship had not ended, it had changed form, but what I am starting to see, hear, feel, and be shown now, is the array of ways it changes. Ways I had not considered, and why would I have, because I had never had a relationship with anyone like I did with my mom, and now I am learning what it is to stay in relationship with her while missing her physicality.

Then yesterday afternoon, a friend contacted me saying she had seen three kittens that appeared to have been dumped in a paddock, and she knew I would know what to do. So I picked her up and we went there.

I don’t know how she managed to see these three tiny kittens, but they were there. Two black ones and a tabby.

I put some food down for them, and for the first time ever, by sliding slowly on my knees toward them while they were eating out of the bowl of food I had given them, and while I had another bowl in my hand, I actually managed to catch two of them by hand. They were so small I could cup them in my hands. One gave me a good bite on my thumb, but only because it was scared.

The third one was nowhere to be seen, and because we are in autumn heading into winter, and it was a clear night last night, so it was cold, I was worried about the third one. So I asked Mom to help guide me where to put the trap. I asked her to help guide the little bubba into the cage, and to ensure the kitten set it off and did not hurt itself. I was also conscious we might catch a possum, or another feral cat, or something else entirely.

I went there early this morning.

And there was the little black kitten in the trap.

Safe.

I have been able to reunite the three siblings.

One of the things she said to me a couple of minutes before she took her last breath was, “I can now help you directly.” I didn’t really know what that would entail. But this week I got to see it in action. In the seat I sat in. In the dress I wore. In the joy I felt. In the meeting I wanted to call her after. In the words I heard from her. And in the tiny black kitten waiting safely in the trap.

And maybe that is why I am sharing this, because grief is not just the missing of the physical person, it is also this weird, beautiful, painful, and sometimes funny process of learning the new way the relationship exists.

It is still having the instinct to call them, and then realizing they may now hear the whole thing in real time. It is sitting in the seat they used to sit in, and suddenly understanding why they chose that seat. It is wearing their dress, and feeling them laugh because they finally got you into one. It is dancing down a carpet in the middle of a Hokianga luncheon, not because you would have chosen that normally, but because you know exactly what they would have done. It is asking for help with a tiny kitten on a cold night, and then seeing that help arrive.

So if this connects with some part of you, maybe ponder on these questions:

🖤 Where are you still finding yourself responding in the old way with someone you love, even though the relationship has now changed and is asking you to experience it in a different way?

🖤 Where are you being shown that love, connection, or support may still be present, but not in the form you were used to?

🖤 What has grief, loss, or change revealed to you that you could not see, hear, or feel before?

🖤 What seemingly small or inconsequential thing are you experiencing right now that may actually be deeply valuable, important, and connected to the person you miss?

🖤 Where might the person you miss be helping you in a form you did not expect?

Because sometimes love does not leave, it changes form, and sometimes, in the middle of that change, you find yourself dancing down a carpet in your mother’s dress, feeling her sit in on your meetings, laughing with her, missing her physicality, feeling her joy, and then watching her help a tiny kitten find its way to safety.

Melinda xxx

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