Life is Loss

Life is loss, but it’s better than this

Magnus Bane said this in City of Heavenly Fire, the this he’s referring to, being a false reality. I have to agree. Life is a series of losses. If you’re lucky, as I have been, the loss is balanced with love, friendship, and a sense of accomplishment.

This weekend a dear woman passed away. She was the mother of six, grandmother of 3, wife, Christian, and a mother to anyone who passed through her life. From the time I met her, at the age of 12, she treated me the way she treated her own children. Love, compassion, a firm hand, and a sense of fun.

One of the memories that stands out the most for me is the summer I was 14. My friends and I were skinny dipping in the river, with boys of course, and she just came walking down to the drop off and in her sternest voice, ordered us out of the water and back to the house. She made the boys get out first, staring in eagle eyed disapproval as they dressed and left. After we were back at her house, she told us what we did was wrong, then reminded us that the river ran through the back yard, and if we wanted to skinny dip, the smart place to do it was there.

How can you not love a woman, a mother, like that?

Her children became additional siblings to me. Her home was mine. Her shoulder was mine to cry on. The night I got engaged, she was one of the first people to congratulate me and hug me. It’s hard to believe that I won’t ever see her again, or hear her hollering at her kids, or the neighborhood kids, while they run tame, in and out of her front door.

My grief usually processes differently. I pin that fact on my reading. Diving in to a fictional world so easily allows me to handle my grief until the funeral, where I cry at saying goodbye. It didn’t hit right away, but my grief over this loss is coming in waves. Loss is painful, as it should be when you lose someone you love. All you can do is hold on to the happy when the sadness comes. That’s what I will try to do as I say goodbye to this amazing woman.

Goodbye Doris. I love you for being a mother to me, always loving and believing in me, and for finding joy everywhere you look. It’s the most inspirational thing you taught me and I’ll hold on to that the tightest.