Incongruency

I’ve been busy the last few weeks with life and preparing for two speaking events coming up in a few weeks. It has been good, but I have missed writing.

A major life event took place just about a week ago… my daughter is betrothed! We are so happy and excited for the two of them, and we really do love her fiancé. We knew it was coming and were waiting with bated breath for the announcement that the proposal and acceptance had taken place. A video call from the lovebirds came, and all kinds of excitement and happiness ensued. It really was an amazing moment. I am the mother of the bride!

As everything began to settle in, an unexpected tsunami of grief hit… and it hit hard. It was a multidirectional hit, and I was not expecting it in the slightest. My daughter is the age I was when I married Aaron, and I came to the realization that I am just about the age my Mom was when I got married. And how I would have loved to talk with her about all the feelings. And my Dad would have been over the moon in expectation of these nuptials. Gosh I know how both of them would have loved to hear this news. And then Aaron. I still get teary eyes when I talk about this and now write about this. Aaron would have loved his son-in-law to be. He would have been beaming with pride and love for his daughter and probably would have had words of sage advice to share. Before he died, he talked about how it grieved him to know he would miss these moments… this moment he named specifically. I became aware of the tsunami of grief approaching as I recalled that conversation with Aaron about this specific event that had now just taken place.

Eric and I were sitting at the table as the tsunami hit. As I flailed in the swirling of heavy emotions, I found myself trying to hold myself together. In that moment I felt this massive wave of grief that couldn’t be stopped (nor should it be) and I felt this enormous feeling of guilt as I didn’t want my grief to deplete Eric’s joy as the father receiving this amazing news from his daughter. My sweet husband looked at me and instantly knew my grief was making itself known. His look was the permission I needed to stop trying to hold it together and instead to authentically mourn, even while holding the joy of this engagement. He told me it was important for me to feel all the things I needed to feel. He is a good man.

Sometimes holding joy and grief in the same space feels awfully incongruent, but both things can be true at the same time… and this felt disorienting. There was such complexity in mourning Aaron’s absence in this moment and celebrating Eric’s presence in the same moment and being in this celebratory moment in our daughter’s life. I’m not sure our modern, western sensibilities allow space for this illogical duality. Our modern, western sensibilities don’t serve us well at times like this.

I know this exciting chapter will bring about new opportunities to mourn as the emotions of grief make themselves known. I will give myself permission to welcome them. It is the only way to find healing and learn how to integrate each piece of grief into my life.

I know these things to be true. We are ecstatic about this upcoming marriage. Aaron, my mom, and my dad would have loved it be part of it… and they are not because they have died. The grief is real, and mourning in needed. Eric gets to hold this and each upcoming moment with his daughter and future son-in-law, and this makes me very happy. This joy and this grief co-exist. It is complicated. It is beautiful. It feels really messy and incomprehensible.  And all of this is true.