Thursday, December 1, 2022

As you know, abuela passed away on November 17th at 104 and four months of age. My husband and I went to New York to be with my family and to both plan and attend her service and funeral. Still tender with grief, we returned home late Saturday afternoon to find that our remaining cat is nearing the end of her life. Like abuela, she is a centenarian —- in cat years. I have always joked that she was connected to abuela and so it makes sense that they will likely depart this world around the same time. As you can imagine, I am tending to layers of grief. 

First, we had a beautiful private ceremony for abuela. The day was bright, sunny and beautiful. The priest who presided over the bilingual church service and funeral had the surname Rodriguez…one of abuela’s surnames. There were roses, left by previous churchgoers, all around the church. We each placed a rose on her coffin and then stood in a circle holding each other close. My abuela left clear directives and one of them was that none of us were allowed to wear black to her funeral. We were to proceed in a celebratory fashion. I wore a bright red dress adorned with a rose pattern and a silk red rose in my hair. We told stories about Abuela, laughed a ton, ate a meal that she would be proud of and held each other through tears. Words cannot possibly express the depth of our grief and gratitude for having loved and been loved by her through our lives - she was the catalyst and matriarch of the four generations of us that remain to honor and celebrate her memory and legacy. My mother now takes her place as our matriarch. The photo above right is of my abuela kissing my mother on the cheek on her wedding day to my father 53 years ago. I see the kiss as passing the baton of matriarch.

As I watched my mother grieve the loss of her mother, I realized…my mother had the presence of her mother for 80 years of her life. When I am 80 (which I hope to be!), my mother will be 113. It hit me that I may not have my mother for the length of time my mother had hers. A grief for things that may not come to pass. I then wondered if my Abuela was able to grieve the loss of her mother. My Abuela’s mother died when she was 8 years old. The woman who did not have a legacy of being mothered became a matriarch for four subsequent generations. She was not only a mother, she was a grandmother, great-grandmother and a great-great grandmother. A grief for the loss she must have experienced as a little girl…becoming an orphan and learning how to survive without proper caretaking. Her love, triumphant spirit and her history of continual survival amidst loss (loss of mother, family, homeland, marriage, siblings, etc) is what endures. We stand on her strong steady and fiery shoulders. What a legacy. Above right is the photo of all of us - her lineage and legacy - at the day of her funeral last week.

Second, grieving my abuela touched and reopened other grief inside of me. The continued grief of losing my abuelo 37 years ago, my father 20 years ago, the grief of fifteen years of infertility and the eventual release of a long-held desire to become a mother, grieving leaving the west coast (and beloved community) to return east to be closer to my family, due to this move…feeling isolation…grieving the loss of being in physical community with others (due to Covid), grieving the loss of our 20 year old cat just four months ago and now the anticipatory grief of losing our other (and last) nearly 21 year old cat - the imminence of it is enormous and heavy. This is the vortex of grief. 

I have coped with grief, in the past, in ways that are deeply internal, private and reflective. I have traditionally coped and carried myself through grief by reflecting on and writing about feelings, processing them via the covert control of words, and only shared them verbally with others after I’d had adequate time of personal private processing. But this time I didn’t have words or the capacity for contemplation. I had feelings that wanted immediate uncontrolled and uncensored expression. Overwhelming, big, tumultuous, spiraling and unraveling feelings. I am still navigating my way through this “messier” new-to-me way of processing grief. It is quite fitting for the year of “de-composing.” And I am so grateful for it because it means that I am learning to grieve in a much less defended armored, and controlled way. I am giving myself permission to fall apart and grateful to have community, friends and family to lean on for support. 

Over the past few days, I found a ton of comfort in reading “Grief is Love: Living with Loss” by Marisa Renee Lee. Below I share several excerpts that were supportive in both affirming how I have been feeling but also providing understanding and some pathways to partnering more lovingly with my own multi-layered grief. I hope that, whether you have known grief before or are still experiencing grief, you will find comfort and pearls of wisdom in Marisa’s words. Scroll down to read excerpts - it's a lot of writing! 

I want to thank you all for your emails, texts, voicemails and cards in the mail. I am still going through them all and taking my time as waves of grief come and go. I am learning to give myself more grace when I can't respond immediately. Everything just feels like too much right now. Know that hearing from you is a healing balm for my heart and that I cherish each message. 
 

Classes in the week ahead - Sunday December 4 at 10:00AM PST and Wednesday December 7 at 9AM PDT.

• Sunday, December 4 at 10:00AM PST - Somos Luceros – Vamos a Gozar: Dancing in Honor of Abuela’s Memory and Legacy
   
• Wednesday, December 7 at 9:00AM PST -  Embodied Movement Explorations for Body Wisdom and Wellness: Exploring Expressions of Power with the dance movement repertoires from Shake Your Soul (Leven Institute). 

• Somos Luceros on Sundays at 10AM PST 
• Embodied Movement Explorations in Body Wisdom & Wellness on Wednesdays at 9AM PST 
• ArcanaDance - next workshop TBA