Embracing Grief, Honoring Death and Celebrating Life: A Day of Rage, Joy and Magic

One year ago today, in the darkened predawn hours of November 7th, I watched my mother take her last breath.

I didn't realize I had witnessed her last breath until I noticed that her lips had turned grey, and I waited for a breath to pierce the silence of the room that never came. As confronting as it might sound, and I promise I'm not sharing this to trauma dump on you, it was actually a very peaceful, beautiful and awe-filled experience, one I will carry with me as the highest honor of my life. Now, watching my mother slowly lose her ability to function in the weeks leading up to that was traumatic, but I'll save those deets for my future memoir.

I don't know if you can feel the energy through my words yet, but I am genuinely happy and having a lovely day. Not that that can't or won't change suddenly, given the circumstances, but as I've been pretty vocal about honoring all aspects of the grief journey, I wanted to celebrate and share my joy rather than tucking it away. It just goes to show you that you never know what a day can hold, even when most, myself included, were bracing for the worst on an anniversary like today's.

The Power of Presence and Simple Joys

Today's good vibes actually started yesterday afternoon. Knowing what might be on the horizon, I focused on being as present as possible and doing things that brought me joy. I made chicken dumpling soup while listening to a fabulously moody playlist from a trashy young adult romantic drama I'm currently way too obsessed with and have no business watching. (The sheer ridiculousness of the drama and dopamine hits from the will they won't they adolescent chair nonsense have given me life.) Then I made popcorn, a fancy non-alcoholic beverage to feel extra special, tidied my space to make it feel sacred, and rented the final movie from said terrible movie series. (Hey, I had to know how it all ended!) I was actually so "in the now" that I completely spaced a Zoom call I, myself had set up with friends only a few hours earlier. I couldn't tell you the last time I've felt that blissed out by the simple joys in life.

Despite feeling so fab, present, and hopeful yesterday, I wasn't sure how today would be when I first woke up. It wasn't looking so hot at first. In the split second after waking, my Adolescent Chair grabbed the reigns. She's a sneaky bitch sometimes. I nearly crawled back under the covers to hide from the morning, but my Adult Chair gently reminded me that I had wanted to make it a special day- to honor the Pegster by being intentional, present, and fully connected to myself and create a sacred moment, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. 

I made a cup of my favorite Australian herbal tea, put some instrumental writing music on, lit some candles and incense, and let my mind wander in my journal. It wasn't anything deep at first, just surface-level thinky brain writing. At the minute of Mum's passing, I put my hand on my heart, closed my eyes, and paused, just letting myself be and feel and notice what was going on in my body. I sat like that for quite some time until I felt the urge to pick up the pen again. 

I wrote to Mum for a while, paused for a gentle, intuitively led yoga sesh, and when I returned to read what I wrote, that's when the tears came. After what my father would call "a good tear duct flushing," I began to wonder: if it took me over an hour of slowly sampling a variety of presence and mindfulness activities to move emotions through me on such a powerful day, what are we all walking around with in our bodies because we don't typically take that kind of time to slow down just for the sake of slowing down? 

From the tear duct flushing onward, it's been a magical flow state kind of day. 

Vagabond Adventures

I had an activity planned for the afternoon but decided that instead of sitting around alone in my cottage killing time, I would make a day of it. I picked a cafe in a cute part of Orlando, Winter Park, to have a vagabond adventure wander and write sesh. Just cruising along in her car with the top-down blasting tunes on a gorgeous day had me feeling super connected to Mum right off the bat. She responded with a nod as I sat at a red light nearing the cafe. I noticed a sign for a local company called Phil Keen Design Group, the logo being a giant PK. Pegster's maiden name was Krueger, making her original initials, you guessed it, P and K. I just laughed and said, "I love you too, mummy!"

As I looked for parking, I randomly thought about a really cool metaphysical crystal shop I've been wanting to check out. It's located about thirty minutes from where I was, and having several hours to kill, I decided to look it up when I got to the cafe and see if I could squeeze it in while out and about. Well, I never got to that because as I walked towards the cafe, I looked up to see a gorgeous crystal shop called Loving Thyself Rocks directly across the street. Not only was the name clearly fabulous, but their full window display of GIANT geodes and huge polished towers and spheres (that probably weighed more than I did) sucked me right in. And in true flow state fashion, I approached to check their signage right as the team member came to unlock the door for opening. They might as well have rolled out a red carpet and sounded trumpets for my arrival.

Seriously, though, what are the odds that minutes after I get a random ping about a crystal shop I haven't thought of in months, I walk right up to one of the most magical crystal shops I've ever seen in my life?! I had the best time wandering and perusing their stunning collection and chatting with Debbie, who must have had some serious Peggy energy because, within minutes, she knew the whole history of my last five years. Pegster was famous for that with even the most closed-off people. I had such a good time, in fact, that what I thought was about fifteen minutes was actually over an hour! That's how you know you're in a flow state.

I blissfully walked down to Barnie's Coffee & Tea Co. with my not-needed but much-loved crystal shop goodie bag, where I spent the next two hours blissfully banging out most of this blog post. It's the closest I've felt to my vagabond backpacker writing joy in years. There was no self-judgment, just words, and love and awe and wonder and delight and gratitude pouring from my fingertips. I was so in the flow with my writing that it was hard to pack up, but I had an appointment I wasn't going to miss, the original activity planned for the day.

Redefining Our Relationship with Grief, Anger and Celebration

In moments where the grief has stirred up big emotions this year, I often noticed a rage rising in my chest with the sudden and overwhelming urge to throw or break something. Never being in the position to honor those sensations when they came up, I thought a fabulous way to celebrate such a pivotal day in my life's journey would be to do just that. So I booked myself a session in a rage room, something I've been curious about for quite some time. If you're unfamiliar with the term, rage rooms are places where they suit you up in safety gear, fill a room with breakables, and then give you some bats and crowbars to let your aggressions loose. 

It was fantastic, and I can not wait to do it again, probably soon. I booked myself for one of the shortest first-timer's sessions they had, feeling super self-conscious about displaying aggression in public where strangers might see me. That says a lot right there about my relationship with anger.

Riddle me this- How does one go out by themselves post breakup on New Year's Eve in a foreign country wearing a bright red dress without batting an eyelid, but is embarrassed to let their anger rip in a place literally designed for that purpose?

It felt awkward at first, like I was just going through the motions, but by the time the staff member came to tell me my time was up? Oh boy, I was sweating and feeling it and wanted to keep going. Next time, I'm going to splurge on an extended session with bigger items to bash because I suspect there's about 39 years of suppressed anger lying dormant in my cells.

When I first blocked myself off from work for this day, I thought I should have friends with me to brace for the "inevitable" hardship. But when those attempts fell through twice, I knew I was supposed to have this day to myself. I think I feel so fab on what most would consider a painful day because I chose to treat it as a day to celebrate. Let’s be clear, I wasn't celebrating that my mother died; I was celebrating that I dragged myself to the finish line of a one-year-long marathon of severe emotional hardship and monstrous life changes, largely on my own. 

Feeling so good and genuinely having fun today has me wondering- If we honored and celebrated death and grief the same way we do birth and birthdays, maybe they wouldn't always feel so scary and heavy. Obviously, circumstances vary tremendously, and I get that, but I believe we have room to grow in our relationships with death, dying, and grief. However, you have full permission to ask me about this after the high of my vagabond adventure day wears off, and we'll see if I'm still sounding so confident in those musings.

Thank you for being here and participating in today's adventure. I hope this contains something you didn’t know you've been looking for, and if not, I simply hope more magic and flow find its way to you this week.

Hugs,

Cat