I am a different person than I was a year ago.

I've learned in different ways over and over again what vulnerability can do for human connection. I've teetered on the edge of wondering if I am being too open at times and who am I doing this for? Is it a cheap way for me to vent without therapy? Is it helpful to prepare the people in my life for moments they will one day experience? Is it egotistical, thinking that anyone could possibly be interested to know this much about my life? I've decided it is probably varying degrees of all of the above, but regardless, I've seen first hand (on multiple occasions) how one person spilling their heart open can lead to others doing the same and if at least one person who never had their feelings validated  feels that they too can open up and be vulnerable then that makes this worth it, however it may come across to those who read it.. here it goes.

I am a different person than I was a year ago. I've said that line multiple times in my life but not with the meaning it holds now. The good memories filed in my head zoom by, the tough ones seem to play slow and steady, making sure that not a single detail gets forgotten. I am vividly reliving my life as it unfolded a year ago, my phone rings, so early I'm still sleeping, I crack open an eye to see who it is.. I think to myself, my parents are camping, why is my mom calling? It must be a pocket dial.. Oh but maybe they had car trouble and they need us to come help, I better answer.. It's my dad. Nothing can prepare me for the next moment. I want to linger in the space between his next words, where nothing he could say could be that bad. When my biggest problems were not even worth mentioning. When life was still unfolding in the ways I'd choose. Where I'm still looking forward to next week when I finally have free time and I planned on spending multiple days hanging out with my mom, going shopping for the house Daniel & I were moving into in a few weeks. But that little moment passes and my dad keeps talking.. "Madalyn, your mother is no longer with us." My mind stops, I don't understand at all, where did she go? I say "What?" he says it again and it registers.. I scream "No, no, no, she can't!" Daniel springs up and asks "What is it? What's wrong?" I say for the first time "My mom died" not even fully believing it myself. What followed next was a mixture of wailing, gagging, coming in and out of nearly passing out, and bargaining. My ultimate worst fear, the unfathomable, there were no warning signs, the nightmare that became reality was here. We put my dad on speaker phone so that he could keep talking. As my dad explained what happened I remember feeling so angry, my parents (much to my dismay) have always talked very openly about death, and I kept thinking this isn't at all what my mom wanted, she wanted to eat dessert and then go to sleep, not this. She wouldn't pick this.. this is wrong. Let's erase this and start over. This is all wrong. This can't be true because it's just wrong. The strangest thing happened though as the day unfolded and as I was able to hear the full story, it somehow became alright. My parents were camping in Lockett Meadow which is North of Flagstaff Arizona, my dad said they had just finished sharing a pop tart around the camp fire, my mom asked my dad if he wanted a drink of milk, he didn't so she said she was going to drink it right out of the jug. My dad said my mom was sitting at the bench of the picnic table when she called out to him, it was her back, my dad rushed over and sat next to her and just like that she left us. She had a severe block in one of her arteries and she had an aneurysm which stopped her heart. We had no idea that she had any problems and as far as we know she wasn't aware either..  it still feels wrong, it's the most wrong thing I've ever felt but how it happened is right. No prolonged suffering, she was in nature (which she loved) with my dad (who she loved more) and my favorite part, after she ate dessert.
I still struggle daily (ok, hourly) that this is real. My emotions come & go in waves, I'm a fully functioning human being, some days a happy joyful one, and other days a barely hanging on depressed one, but through both I keep moving forward. There are moments where it feels harder for me as time goes on and then moments where I feel like I'm finding more peace & clarity. I have never been more present in my entire life, when you can't go back and when you don't know what the future could possibly hold next it leaves you smack dab where you are. That can be simultaneously heartbreaking, terrifying, peaceful and exciting.
The hardest part of grief is that when you lose someone you love you don't lose them once, it happens every time a memory or moment comes up that you want them a part of (which is constant). It happens in each change (so much change), in each phone call you can't make, in each hug you desperately need from them, in the advice you would do anything to hear them say. It's trying to fill the void of losing my best friend who is also my mother and figuring out how to enjoy my free time in the same ways I would when I would spend it with her. There have been so many unexpected losses and also unexpected gains from enduring the most split open broken heart. The losses really bring me down, I've struggled so much with what I've felt on top of my grief. The losses extinguish my light, they make me feel less sparkly which my mom made sure to remind me often the past few years that nothing should ever dull my sparkle. So I hang on as often as I can to the gains, to the light.  The number one gain has been the relationship with my dad. I always felt as though we were close but I am feeling it on an entirely different level now. I know him now in ways I didn't before and I may not have ever had gotten the chance if life didn't unfold the way it had. I can laugh with him about the stories he tells and cry about how we're feeling. I hang on longer when I hug and openly say how I feel about the time we spend together. I have gained a deeper appreciation for my sister and her huge heart, her willingness to try to help bring me up even while she is feeling down herself. An appreciation for the simple moments that bring me joy in the sadness. A new level of compassion and patience for the people in my life, strangers or friends. The kindness & generosity I've been shown from people outside of my inner circle. I'm learning to let go of expectations (they mostly just hurt), to let go of fears (whats coming will come whether we overthink it or not) and to fully trust that God/The Universe has my best interest at heart. Some days it feels really easy to do those things, and other days it feels completely impossible. I cry every day, sometimes it's what I refer to as just a quick little eye moisturizer (ya know the kind that doesn't overflow out) and other days it's pretty dang close to being the Niagara Falls. Sometimes I'm sobbing and then something makes me laugh, and sometimes I'm laughing and then the fact that I've temporarily forgotten my loss makes me cry. Thankfully I was told by my aunt these words "However you're feeling is exactly right" which has saved me time and time again. I recommend using that line to anyone you know dealing with grief. The worst lemon juice in a cut feeling is when you feel like your grieving wrong. We are all doing the best we can and navigating the waters of life isn't always easy. I feel that I could continue talking non-stop about everything I've learned and felt in a year but I'll continue to share when it feels right, for my sake or for someone else's. I continuously feel overwhelmingly blessed to have gotten to love & be so loved by my mom and I also feel completely and utterly gypped that it was our turn to go through this. I am a different person than I was a year ago, I am somewhere between surviving and thriving..