With my mom gone I felt like the Axis to my world had disappeared. I felt lost and in some way hopeless. Things no longer made sense to me. I felt rebellious and withdrawn. I purposely made bad decisions because it justified how I was feeling. Day in and day out I felt like a robot. I put on a happy face and pretend everything was ok so no one would try to help. In some ways I resented people for thinking I needed advice on how I should handle my grief. Is there any right way to grieve? So I hid my grief, which in fact was the wrong thing to do. In the end it just prolongs the process of healing.
I knew in my heart I had to let it out. Little did I know that day would come out of the blue. That day came as a spring evening chill came over me and I remembered I had a tote full of my mother's quilts and afghans. I opened the tote and reached in to find the perfect one. When I pulled it out of the tote the scent of my mother followed and hit my face like a brick wall. I stood there alone in the basement under the stairs sobbing uncontrollably. I held the afghan tight to my chest and hugged it like I was hugging my mother again. I knew that moment was my breakthrough and I welcomed it wholeheartedly.
After that day it became easier to remember my mother. I didn't want to cry every time I thought of her or spoke of her. I enjoyed sharing my memories with others who didn't know her. And in other ways I had to let go. In an act of bravery I opened that tote again. This time without tears remembering how much she loved them. I would care for them as she once did because they were an important part of who my mother was. I was going to display them in my home as she did, but first they needed to be washed. I had to say goodbye once again. This was the last time I would smell my mother's scent.