A lot has changed over the past year. Obviously, many of the changes are not of a religious nature, but since this is my heathen path blog I'm focusing on the spiritual changes. My mom died in February. That was just before the Covid restrictions started. I was able to hold a normal, traditional wake for her with family who had flown in from out of town and many of her local friends, including the folk dancers and some members of her bridge club. I handled it. It was hard but I handled it. Then I was alone. The lockdowns started and I was alone. And then there was Tom. My companion Tom Newman died in September. More about that in a moment.

I've already blogged a lot about the experiences I've had since mom passed on.

A Keening for Myself

Slowly I find myself leaving. I take last walks to say goodbye to certain places which is a ritual I carried out all my life. I am woven together with threads of this place, my body holds her water and blood and my bones are made from her bedrock. Then slowly, without any movement, I shift between places. One foot is here while the other has crossed the ocean onto another continent. I am back to encompassing both worlds. Leaving is painful. It’s not muted by knowing I can return at any time. It’s an awareness which brings into focus the pain of those who left and knew they’d never return. Violently uprooted and ripped from the land. To be born of generations upon generations who lived and died on this soil to then be cleared away, eradicated as if they were vermin, swept aside to make way for the more profitable sheep.  

With my mom's passing, I felt I had it handled.  I was her executor though I'm the youngest of her six kids.  The last three months have flown by and I've felt like I had a long list of things to do and no time to grieve.  I had to organize her funeral, disposal of her things, and her finances.  

As I finished one task, I felt like I was checking off a box on some crazy list I never wanted to deal with.  Mixed in with this, I kept having dreams of my mom and my dad (he died 34 years ago).  I can't tell you specifics other than they were always laughing and there was always light.  

For the past year, my father has been on my mind.  He died 34 years ago on October 25.  Whenever someone is on my mind like this, it usually means I need to do something for them.  No matter what I did, what conversation I had, I felt him hovering.  

I realized on the date of his passing, he was waiting.  My mother became ill after heart surgery November 2017.  At the time, we talked about end of life issues while she was in the hospital, nursing home, and even at the assisted living facility.  I took over her finances and while all six of us discussed health care issues, I took the lead with her care.  

I do celebrate Mother's Day for those who are mothers in my world. I do not celebrate it for myself. For me, it is a time of grief. You see, I was blessed with one of those wickedly funny Southern mamas you hear about. Mine was a firecracker when she got wound up. She was a fierce defender of her family. She was also a Catholic who loved her Wiccan child. I tend to shy away from the concept of being blessed, but in this I was.