Memories

On Sunday, my yoga teacher told our class that her cat died.

Usually I’m ok with news like this. I don’t internalize it. Though I still fumble with having the right words to offer.

Something about this time though… it brought the memory of Tanners funeral to the surface.

There I was, in yoga, pose, after pose, wave after wave, nose to nose with the the memory of his funeral ceremony.

And it was a ceremony- his funeral.

I had read in the days preceding his service that mourners need a story. A container to place their grief. That this was the purpose of the funeral.

Tanner died. But I still had three living children whose lives had broken open just as viscerally as mine.

I am a mother.

I am their mother.

All I’ve ever wanted to be, and the thing I am the best at… is loving my kids. Being their mom.

So, I took charge of his funeral. Wrote his eulogy and delivered it… chose the music… the whole thing.

I thought at the time, it was the last thing I was going to be able to do for my son. So I wanted to do it well. I also wanted to create fertile ground, holding ground, for our family to begin grieving.

I know now, that parenting goes on. It looks different. I am a mother to three living children and a child you lives beyond the veil. The relationship has held.

But oh how I miss his physicality. Like deep lament miss him. Ache after ache missing. The longing to touch him is electrifying.

I don’t know why the news of my yoga teacher’s cat broke me open sooo… but it did. I’ve spent the last few days listening to his funeral song. It’s a song I imagine Tanner singing to me to bring me comfort. He is an incredible teacher, and guru/ancestor for me. He is present in everything i do.

It’s been months since I’ve written about my grief journey.

On Saturday, one of my students said- “it feels like there’s something moving in the deep, yet I can’t articulate it at the surface”.

I feel that my grief has been like that recently. Moving in the deep. That’s why It’s been so nice and refreshing to have it surface these last few days. Grief is where we connect and commune most easily with what we’ve lost. It’s hard when it goes underground and we just have trust the wisdom in that.

I’ll link the song, many of you may know it. I can’t begin to tell you how much the song and words match his energy. He was like that… the kind of kid who saged the house with me, and waxed poetic about the nature of the universe. Deep Pisces moon boy. I miss you mama.

https://open.spotify.com/track/7ehIxbkcQjTjpi061mbYxQ?si=0386aad0ce0a4fd3