I struggle at this time of year to be happy when deep inside I am not. The days are shorter, dark and cold, and for a melancholic/choleric like me, that can spell trouble.

I lost my mom on the day before Thanksgiving 22 years ago. Her death at a time when others are focused on celebrating gives me quite an opportunity to reflect and see the “gift “ of gratitude in her passing. The day was actually the 27th. Like clockwork, I feel the emptiness well up on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving every year and also on the 27th–a double whammy. She went so suddenly. She went on her terms. So many years and blessings later, it doesn’t seem to get easier. Uggh. This year I was feeling particularly sad. I was feeling inward and in a funk. I strongly suggested that my boys go ski and have fun—stay in the mountains somewhere on Thursday. I wasn’t in the mood to do anything—shop, cook or otherwise show up. This year, I wanted space to be alone–to process the recent trip East to see my dying dad and to cry again for my mom. They wanted to be with me. We ultimately came together after we all did our own thing, and kept our dinner simple. It was nice.

Anne, my mom, loved being a mom to the four of us. She was overwhelmed at times, and I had my moments with her as the oldest child, but I appreciate that she really did love and admire the people we “her four fifi’s” were becoming. We gave her immense pleasure. She delighted in my oldest son–the only one she would get to meet in person. She felt deeply robbed of the opportunity to be a grandmother to others she knew were coming. There are the seven grandkids now that get to hear about great “grandma ladybug” and we enjoy keeping her memory alive with frequent ladybug sightings.

Now, my father is slipping further and further into cognitive and physical decline. Some days better than others. It is heartbreaking to see him at 81 in this state. He is not who I want to remember him being. I am experiencing waves of grief. How much time do I have left to tell him I love him? From afar or in person? I am in such different place now than I was with my mom. I want to be so present and conscious of staying open-hearted and listening to what is in his best interest. He knows, and I can rest into that. Do I go back again and be with him? Can I trust that I will know how to show up? It could be a long process and it could be short. Our connection does not need a lot of words. I feel blessed that my dad developed and nurtured sweet connections with his grandkids; he was recently in Colorado for our middle son’s high school graduation. He follows their achievements online and loves to talk with them about travel, sports and academics. They go visit him independently. His compassionate presence is felt by all. He is a truly generous, supportive, and proud man. A cheerleader. Stubborn too 🙂

Again and again the tears come. I can’t really know if I am still grieving the loss of my mom or the inevitable loss of my dad who is in his final stages of life moving ever closer to a transition on his own terms in his own timing. Losing a parent is difficult, but getting ready to lose another one is downright difficult. It brings up the trauma of hearing the doctor say “there is nothing more we can do for her”; he urges us to say our goodbyes. The shock of my mom being admitted for exploratory surgery on the Monday and passing two days later in the hospital still lives in me/haunts me. I was not at all prepared for that news as I was holding my nursing one-year-old child in the recovery room. And yet, that was the reality for me. Every day, I think about my own death and how I am living my own life. Am I living my fullest self? Am I confident in my actions and kind in my words? How do I touch others? and how do I care for myself? How could I have been more present for my mom? What is my purpose? Am I on my path? What I am I creating for myself and my family? Is it with mindfulness and passion? I know I want to be present and witness what in my life is dying or needing to let go and release so I can fully embrace life and let “it” all go when it is my time. Let go with grace and dignity. Yes. So simple yet so complicated and confusing and hard at times to imagine and to work with transformation of my thoughts and feelings. Where is my joy and freedom too?

I do know that I get to live my own life without her strong influence and demands on my time. My life is well my life. But, there is also a void. I feel her presence often and I do miss her. She would be so proud. I know that. Thursday, I walked in nature all day as she did so often. I sat on the Earth and felt the hard ground, listened to the hawks and prairie dogs, felt the sun and wind on my face, and took in the natural beauty. It was a moment of healing. A moment of tapping into a bigger and expansive state of being.

And, on New Years eve, at 11yrs, I lost my maternal grandfather. I was called into the ski lodge from the slopes to hear the sad news. So this time of year presents my set of challenges and opportunities to go within and to tap into the spirit of my ancestors and to balance the joy with the grief. Some years I do a better job of it than others. Recently, I have been calling on other practitioners for support. I reach out to friends. They help to carry me through these tough times. I am truly blessed. And, I do feel that these unfortunate circumstances are stretching me. I feel the growth. I trust I have a greater capacity these days to hold space for others in my healing practice that are also going through a difficult period in their life too. I believe we are all on a journey and asking for help and being compassionate to ourselves and others is critical!