I read somewhere once that to feel anything deranges you. And to be seen feeling anything strips you naked.

I don’t think I fully understood the meaning behind those two sentences until I finally confessed to others that I will have to watch my mother’s able body slowly wither away until she eventually dies of respiratory failure.

If there’s one thing having a dying mother has taught me, it’s that people do not want to see you stripped naked. They prefer you remain covered so that they themselves don’t have to be exposed.

…

When you have a terminally ill parent, it feels as though there’s this giant dark cloud hovering above you, constantly, relentlessly. And no one else can see it unless you tell them it’s there. But once you do, they can’t unsee it. And sometimes that cloud breaks open into a torrential downpour. So you do your best to hold up this giant oversized umbrella to keep yourself, and everyone around you, dry. But then the umbrella gets heavier. And eventually it collapses. And everyone gets soaked. And a lot of people, who were originally standing with you under the umbrella, are afraid of the rain. So they run for cover elsewhere. But you’re stuck in the mud. So you can’t run, no matter how desperately you want to. And some people are stuck in the mud with you because, like you, they don’t have a choice. But then there are the rare few who aren’t stuck in the mud, and they could run if they wanted. In fact, they could escape the storm entirely. But they don’t. They choose to stand next to you. And they get wet with you. And they hold your hand as you all do your best to enjoy the storm. I hope you know that it is these people who will save you, time and time again, if you let them.

…

To my very few people, thank you for teaching me that I’m not broken just because I can’t keep the umbrella lifted in every moment. For allowing me to feel the rain. And for never letting me sink too deep into the mud.

Because of you, I now understand that all of this is what makes me real, honest, and capable of love.

And love, in all its forms, is the reason we ever grieve at all.

xx, car