“There is no remedy for love but to love more.”

—Henry David Thoreau

Although this is not everyone's experience, I am keenly aware that several of my friends have recently lost their moms.  I feel compelled to acknowledge this huge loss and so I dedicate this reflection most especially to you. It has been my experience that the first Mother's Day and all holidays that accompany the grieving process are the hardest. Perhaps knowing that our loved ones do not wish for us to suffer helps us to garner the needed strength to regain resilience. Yet, we know we can not rush the process but instead honor with reverence the ones we mourn recognizing that the intensity of our sadness gives testimony to the depth of our love.

How can we comfort those who mourn? Listen, bear witness and offer our presence. It is that simple and that hard; hard for us to resist the temptation to paint a silver lining. Yet, in doing so we diminish the person's experience and increase a sense of isolation.  

For many, Mother Mary is one who offers strength when we need it most. In my family, my Irish grandmother Katie found great solace in calling upon Her to intercede and often told my mom that she answered all of her prayers.  She opens Her arms wide to hold us in a Love that offers deep compassion and comfort.

I wish to invite in all who grieve, all who have lost a loved one. I am thinking of you too. For we know that grief is a shared human experience that we all encounter, at different times throughout our lives.

Let us treasure, celebrate and remember our mothers who may or may not be with us on this earthly realm but who live within us, guide and bless us each and every day, who are deeply loved and who love us more…

Blessing for the Brokenhearted

Let us agree
for now
that we will not say
the breaking
makes us stronger
or that it is better
to have this pain
than to have done
without this love. 

Let us promise
we will not
tell ourselves
time will heal
the wound,
when every day
our waking
opens it anew. 

Perhaps for now
it can be enough
to simply marvel
at the mystery
of how a heart
so broken
can go on beating,
as if it were made
for precisely this—

as if it knows
the only cure for love
is more of it, 
as if it sees
the heart’s sole remedy
for breaking
is to love still, 

as if it trusts
that its own
persistent pulse
is the rhythm
of a blessing
we cannot
begin to fathom
but will save us
nonetheless.

~Jan Richardson