One Year & Use of Bereavement
The birth of a child.
Learning to navigate feeding & nursing.
The purchase of a new home.
Christmas.
Having my first seizure in 10 years.
Turning 28.
Graduating with my Masters in Social Work.
Jameson’s first Easter.
Wade’s first coach-pitch baseball game.
With one year of her earthly absence rapidly approaching- I find myself begging God to tell me “why?”
Why my mom? Why her? There wasn’t some crappy deadbeat mom that could have taken her place? I know. I know. That is a pretty brutal thing to ask (and to publish for the world), but here on this blog, that is born out of grief and a desire to bring you along on my own journey of navigating this loss. I have made a commitment to be honest, and authentic. I would be lying if I said that was the first time I thought something like this.
I can hear the beginning of my mom’s lecture, “Ab-i-gail” she says with her head tilted, judgement in her voice, and a look on her face reminding me that she taught me better than that. I am not proud of thinking such dark thoughts.
“What? It’s true” would be my unapologetic response.
Her name was (is) Jami, and she died April 24th, 2024 from metastasized breast cancer at the age of 56. She was my biggest cheerleader and my most treasured confidant. On the best days I miss her, and on my hardest days the only person I want comfort from is her. I long to hear her tell me “Dolly. It’s going to be okay.”
Not a day goes by that I don’t want to tell her about
Our trip to Arizona.
Garrett’s wedding.
The birth of Emily’s beautiful baby boy.
Jeremy’s job & how he is kicking ass.
PDX’s grand re-opening.
If you are reading this, my guess is that you knew her in some capacity or you yourself are navigating some form of loss. I see you. I see you going to work everyday and ordering groceries. I see the way you still show up to birthday parties and take your dog to the groomers.
I see you. I see you getting out of bed everyday and somehow, one step at a time continuing to move forward.
My goal for this blog is that each post is written with intention & grace. The same way my mom lived her life on a daily basis. Showing up for others intentionally and always leading with grace. I invite you to join me and bring along others.
I plan to share my experience entering into Motherhood without my own mom to guide me, the sneaky ways grief shows up in the day to day life, and hopefully create a welcoming, kind, and gracious community of people willing to be vulnerable and walk along anyone who is navigating a loss.
If you haven’t personally experienced a loss, I see you as well. I see the desire to make your friend, or colleague feel better. I see you dropping off food and offering your condolences. I hear you avoid saying “she’s in a better place” but rather “can you tell me about her?”
Mom. One year without your earthly presence. As I type this, my sweet baby is crawling at my feet, he looks up at me, and we smile at each other. You would love him. I am overwhelmed with emotion and feel an immense amount of sorrow, deep despair and profound gratitude for how you have shaped my worldview and the ability to see the good in every person you encounter.