Griefburst

For the last 8 weeks I've been attending a Hospice group for the bereaved. It has been absolutely wonderful for me. There are about 13 of us with 5 co-facilitators, and we have grown pretty close over the weeks. At first there were lots and lots of tears, and I kept my head down most of the time, but over the weeks of mourning together we have started laughing more--it has been a transformational experience for me.

Anyhow, we use a book called, "Understanding Your Grief: Ten Touchstones For Finding Hope and Healing Your Heart" by Alan Wolfelt. In it, the author talks about "griefbursts"--times when an uncontrollable sense of grief overcomes you, often out of the blue. Well, I had one today. What triggered it? My wonderful 13-year-old daughter acting like a 13-year-old. (Imagine that!)

Last night Elise went to a ballet performance and didn't get home until 10 p.m. At 10:30 I went down to check on everybody, and her light was still on. She had dance this morning beginning at 8:30, and when Elise doesn't get enough sleep she is (like her mother) grumpy. Sure enough, this afternoon while cleaning the house (our Thursday afternoon activity) she was tired and grumpy. And I was annoyed. Why hadn't she figured out (I've certainly reminder her enough times!) that she needs to get more sleep or she's ornery?!?

At that moment I remembered when I used to spend the night at Apryl's house and, inevitably, would be grumpy the next day. Mom would threaten no more sleep-overs if I couldn't be nice the day after, and I would think how unfair she was and that I certainly wasn't being grumpy, and why was everyone acting so awfully towards me?

And then the tears started. I just wanted to call Mom and tell her about Elise and ask for her advice. She'd laugh and laugh, and soon I'd be laughing, too, a little abashed that that is exactly how I used to act, but anxious for Mom to remind me how wonderful daughters are, even when they are 13 (or 35) and tired and grumpy and completely irrational.

There is no one quite like a mother. No one who knows your ins and outs and sadness and triumphs (because it's never bragging when you tell your mother!) and even when she doesn't agree with you, loves and trusts you.