Ode to My Mother - A Human Courage Campaign

Grief. Everyone processes differently. I tend to take it in and lock it up, not to see the light of day until I am alone in my own darkened room. For now, I have done and will do the things that need to be done. I held my mother's hand as she took her last breath, her heart beat it's last beat, and her hand squeezed mine and then was still. I go through her apartment, muttering, "oh mom", at each and every predictable find: plastic bags full of plastic bags, a pack of kleenex and a tube of lip balm in every pocket and purse, accompanied by a pen and a book of matches too. In the 20+ years since our two-hour talk on the phone, when she told me she was going to hell and so was I, she had come to accept me for who I am and accept my life partner for who she is. And through all the difficult times, regardless of her religious beliefs, I was always and ever will be her daughter, whom she had never turned her back upon.

My best and only wish is that in her final hour, she had found the forgiveness she sought for herself. Because in my opinion, forgiveness was never, ever necessary.