Mourning for Mom brings fatigue

Mom died just over a month ago, and getting used to the idea is both weird and not weird. She wasn't a daily part of our lives for four years while in a care home, but then again, just knowing she's not there is sad.

I've been mostly fine, with the understanding this was a natural, expected death. I'm so glad she's not longer deteriorating.

I talk to her all the time. I have a necklace that carries some of her ashes, and I wear it a lot. I wore it on my first week of work at KITV Island News in my new role as regular reporter/anchor (rather than on call/ fill in.)

She was always extremely supportive of my life choices and proud of my career. "Come to work with me today, Mom. You can see all my nice friends," I said.

Work brings me strength and happiness. I like going there, being with people I like, doing things I love.

But then I need time to grieve and be silent. On my days off I tackle a little bit of death-chores (funeral planning, closet cleaning, file-sorting, etc.) and then I get very tired.

I don't feel heartbroken, but I start to feel extremely fatigued and I have to lie down and rest. If made to think, I'm foggy and not focused. I feel an emptiness.

Sometimes, it's when my dad comes to dinner, and we talk about Mom. It's nice and we like his company, but just looking at him reminds me of my mother and when he leaves, I'm sad.

We had the funeral already. Planning that was emotionally tiring. I liked seeing everyone, but I was worn out when I got home.

For a week, the funeral items sat around in the living room where I dropped them. Her photos, the remembrance cards, the extra li see and candies given out at Chinese funerals.

It's been over two weeks and I haven't looked at any of the condolence cards. I'm not ready to open them. They're still in the bag we brought home from the restaurant. I just... can't.

I just need downtime to move through the early stages of grief and find acceptance and peace. It's a process, I know this. Just... patience and time.

There's a saying that if you want to get over something, you have to go through something. It's not always comfortable to sit with this void, but I trust it will get easier.


I Am Standing Upon The Seashore

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying...

--Henry Jackson Van Dyke


1998, Mom and Kona, Kahala Beach. Kona died, too. I hope they're reconnected in the afterlife.

1998, Mom and Kona, Kahala Beach. Kona died, too. I hope they're reconnected in the afterlife.