Post by @calendsofapril@kolektiva.social

2026-09-20 13:20 UTC

It&#39;s been twenty-five years, Mom. I love you. I miss you. I wonder what you would make of the person I&#39;ve become, the life I&#39;ve created. (Parallels. Divergences.) I am so fortunate to be able to get up every day and work toward a better world. A world that you will never see, which I will also very likely never see. A world I think you could perceive only in barest glimpses, but one you set me on the path toward. I&#39;ll think of you at the beach today. I thought of you when I gave my soul to the ocean, when I left our home forever. I thought of you when I found the river, and allowed it to find me. Remembering is what we have. And if we&#39;re very lucky, continuity is what we can create with what we have. The work is the true memorial, but I also have this, a few meager words to lay gently in the ether, instead of flowers on your grave. #insteadOfFlowers #grief #death

Replies (1)

@calendsofapril@kolektiva.social 2026-09-20 13:21

We each spent half our lives with each other, though her half was the shorter half, and the parallel will not hold as time continues to flow. This is not a parallel I ever wanted. I wanted to know her when she was old. Instead it is the grief which has wound its way through the years until it has become old grief, folded into the pattern of my life. The first decade was torturous; now the grief is something that has sunk into me and made its home, instead of something that is burrowing and rending and searing. A grief woven in marrow, laced through bone. It is definitional and encompassing. Grounded and grounding. I've grown with it and around it and because of it and in spite of it. I think of her when I see flowers, and when I set my shoulder and push for a better world, and when I see my daughters grow into people she would have recognized. I miss you, Mom. Thank you for life. Thank you for showing me who I could be. I love you. #insteadOfFlowers #grief #death

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