On Loss

Amanda Jones Vaughan is the director of business development at Over the Moon. Both former Dukies, while I’ve never met her, we became “Instagram friends” somehow, and I soon loved following her style and adorable family. But it was her writing about the loss of her mom that really captivated me and eventually became the impetus for wanting others’ perspectives in our Morning Musing category. I am grateful for Amanda letting us share her reflection on loss and for it opening up this category to a myriad of musings, both this Mother’s Day week and beyond. -Katie

Marriage of Friends

"My life is filled with the souls of women I love. The ones who make my belly ache from laughter, who catch my tears. Who show up on my doorstep to celebrate and grieve, who defend me when I’m unkind to myself. These women will love my children, dance as we age, protect my secrets, share in my joy, sing even when we’re sinking in sorrow. They walk close, promising their lives to me—a marriage without a wedding; a commitment without a ring. If you have these women too, remember: the soulmate is a wonderful thought but look how beautiful these love stories are. Look how they make you full."

-Hannah Rosenberg

Words fail me when trying to fully encapsulate how devastating, how difficult, how suffocating, how surreal the last 6 months have been. You choke just thinking about how fast and slow it’s been. We, and things, and others are moving, yet we are firmly, deeply stuck in the mud, whether unintentionally or oh so willingly.

These beautiful words by Hannah Rosenberg do not exactly epitomize my thoughts on grief, nothing quite can, but they do touch on perhaps one of the biggest facets to my personal grief. For what I am grieving so fiercely; what leaves me feeling so unequivocally alone, kicking and screaming and sobbing and gasping for air, is losing the marriage to my mother. A marriage that, while I know I was lucky to have at all, had so many more years left to bloom. A union that was woven into every inch of my being, present in every second of my day and fueling every step I took.

As I face this void that will never be filled, as I yearn for the only woman who I want to be tethered to, these words above also evoke the women tethering themselves to me. Both keeping me afloat and diving to the very bottom, just to sit by my side.

The just checking in, the thinking of you, the I don’t know what you’re going through, the I do know what you’re going through, the I don’t have words, the this %#*$&@! sucks, the I’m so so sorry, the screams in solidarity, the sitting in silence in solidarity, the shock, the I know we don’t know each other but, the we haven’t talked in awhile but, the no need to respond, the snail mails, the emails, the DMs, the prayers, the childcare, the go take a nap, the how can I help, the just show up and help, the knowing when and when not to be positive, the both/and, the being there, the I am here, the we are here and the love, so much love.

Forever empty from the absence of one woman, my life is somehow still full, albeit differently, because of women, so many women- not trying to be or replace my woman, but just being…women.

6 months both trudging through and fully stuck in the dark murky mud of grief. Words fail for this loss, but spill over for the love- of women (and my men-both big and small) not afraid to get their hands and hearts dirty.