mourning in solitude

It’s hard enough to lose someone and/or someone(s) dear to you. But for things you thought you had already processed to resurface when you’re still trying to adjust to a new state and life, doesn’t make it any easier to adapt.

The passing of George H. W. Bush has stirred up emotions I have been burying for months, even years now. I know, how silly, a man I did not personally know, passing has me an emotional wreck. Did you see the picture of his service dog saying his final goodbyes? My heart can’t take it. The article I’ve linked even shows picture of the bond they shared, all. the. tears. Not to mention George W. Bush’s speech. Incredible. Full of class and holds so much integrity and honor.

This year hasn’t been easy on mine nor my boyfriend’s sweet families. My great grandmother, who was the glue that held our family together, passed early in the year. But for TJ’s family, they lost three loved ones all one after another all in the same time frame. February also marked thirteen years that my mom has been gone. You can just feel the emotional tension in it all. Thankfully, the latter half of the year has been a little easier on us. But it doesn’t take the sting away.

Thirteen years, ten months. They hurt the same. No way does it get any easier. Time may help the initial hurt go down but there’s no way I will never not try to reach out to my mother, want to sit on a bed and talk for hours about any and every single thing, with coffee in hand. I imagine that who I got my caffeine habit from. To not want one more day in my Mamaw’s living room hearing her talk about how good her God is and walking down to the sands hearing the stories of what brought her to where she was that day, with every single Kentucky detail. Oh, if I could have just one more pan of her peach fluff.

But for now, I’ll wear my mom’s old SCAD crewneck sweatshirt, wondering who all she saw, where all she walked and what perfume she would’ve sprayed each day she wore it. I’ll read the one of my Mamaw’s bibles that I have, imagining how hard she’s partying with Jesus, trying to decipher why she underlined what verse ,what she must have been going through when she did and how hard she’s hugging my Uncle Charles’ and my momma’s necks.

And I’ll do it alone. This is no cry for sympathy either. I know I’ve got my people and my support system, regardless of location. There are plenty of people around here too, but it is not the same as laying in the room where your mom stayed for years, walking the waterfront where you grew up, imagining who she ran around with and playing the few scenes you do have over and over in your head. No complaints about being in my new home, but there’s so much comfort in home. Thankfully I will carry the times from my South Carolina home and bring them here. Through my person (yes, grey’s reference), through becomingly familiar places and my 44-pound fur baby that always knows.

When you find comfort in familiarity it’s hard, even six months in. I will cling to bibles, sweatshirts, coffee mugs and other inanimate objects. I will cling to familiar coffee shops and drives. Mourning is different for everyone and I hope if you are doing it alone, in a different place than you know, you find your comfort. Find your people, face your loss and celebrate your strength.



——–if you text “Home” to 741741 when you are feeling depressed or sad, or going through any kind of emotional crisis, a crisis worker will text you back immediately and continue to text with you? Many people, especially younger ones, prefer text to talking on the phone. It’s a free service to anyone–teens, adults, etc.–who lives in the US.

Depression is real, you are not alone.


How incredible is it that people are doing this? ^^^