I am grateful for this question. It came to me while trying to discern how to acknowledge the grief I inherited from my mother’s body.
She bore grief from trauma throughout her life. I knew her grief in utero and always knew it was more than one person should bear.
Now, I want to honor her and honor myself. That is why I am grateful for the question that came out of the blue. “What will make my grieving holy?”
I do not want to grieve her grief. I want to remember HER. Her losses were like a disability. Should I remember a person for their challenges? No. She is ever so much more.
She is light and warm, lively and smart. She is gracious and deeply connected to the dance of life. She laughs and gives you the “raspberries” to convey dislikes. She lets you know what she thinks when you ask. She takes fabric in her hands and fashions it with patience and love. She is cheerful. She cooks, cleans and cares for those around her. She listens and shares wisdom. She travels with eyes wide open.
Now, each day I wonder, what will make my grieving holy?
Teaching in Minnesota yesterday I led a ritual connected to the tree of life. I brought her name written on a slip of paper. I brought a piece of unfinished pansy embroidery. I moved into the center of the spiral of branches to the call of drum and fiddle. The night, the candle light, the beauty of branches gave me a form. Grief moved me in the beauty of loss.
It was holy.