Grief Rituals?

I had my annual physical last week.

I see the same nurse practitioner who used to see Mom.
This was the first time I'd been there since I went with Mom.
Even before she greeted me, she expressed her sympathy.
That was nice.

She takes her time, so we get pretty detailed about all the health stuff. We cover diet, exercise, stress, sleep. We go over lab work. We check dates of last screenings and schedule any that are due.

All of mine are due.

I have some things to look forward to.

But we also talk about our lives a bit, what to do when we wake up at night and can’t fall back to sleep...how to accept an aging body shape…

One thing I wanted to ask her about was a slight achiness in my legs. It began the morning after Mom died and has continued every day since then. It isn’t painful. It goes away as soon as I stretch.

My nurse practitioner did not see any physical cause for it. We guessed about whether I was carrying emotional stress in my muscles.

In some ways it is a reminder of those last days with Mom. That small ache that accompanies my first moments of the day is a good thing.

People have had rituals of grief in the past. Wearing black. Making some kind of memorial. I have places in my house for photos of grandparents, and photos of our parents. Maybe these twinges in my legs are a part of my grief ritual.



I have a few other things to remind me.

I have the photos on my screensaver.

Mom's phone numbers are still on my phone, so every time I call my daughter, I first scroll through those two numbers...and wish I could call. But it's not so much a painful wish anymore.

That first day when my brother texted that the phone was disconnected was tough. I'd known ever since Mom died that there would never be another phone call, but that day it was real in a different way.

It seems like those painful realizations happen once, and then become more of a bittersweet memory.

Most of the time my grief is not intense. Instead, I’ve noticed more irritability. It is easier to become overwhelmed or anxious or angry. Remembering that I’m grieving helps to temper the intensity of those harder emotions. When I can be mindful of the grief, I'm able to give myself more time to be skeptical about how strongly I feel.

If I wore something as part of my grieving, like a bracelet or a certain pair of earrings, maybe I’d be better able to be patient with big emotions...to take a breath and let things sit.

I'd welcome thoughts from others, if there have been practices that have been meaningful for you.

* * * * *

It seems stupid to write about my grief in the same week as the shooting at the synagogue and the other shooting targeting persons of color.

My grief is the kind of grief you want. It is the good kind of grief, formed from a long relationship with a parent who lived to a reasonable old age. It is the kind of grief we all expect to have someday.

It isn’t the kind that leaves you helpless and reeling  with the absolute wrongness of the loss, or with fear of where and when the next horrific act of hate will occur. Even though I don't know anyone personally from those events, the monstrocity of it all weighs heavy. I am inspired by the survivors' ability to speak clearly about what has happened to them, and to take action to resist hate.

Maybe keeping a candle lit when I'm home as a reminder to pray would be a ritual for both grief and hope, and hopefully action as well.