Another Wave Rolls In

One of the things I hate most about grief is that it’s not predictable, for the most part. I know that I’ll get sad around Mom’s yahrzeit, her birthday, Mother’s Day, and the anniversary of her going into the residential care home for the last part of her life, which I unfortunately associate with Rosh Hashanah. I can plan for those days and know not to schedule anything too mentally strenuous. In a way, I can control those grief episodes. 

What I can’t control is the unexpected waves of grief, the days when suddenly all I can think about is my mom and how much I miss her and how fervently I wish she had been able to meet Eliza. Those days are much harder because I haven’t planned for them and so I have my regular duties and responsibilities as a wife and mother to attend to on top of that suddenly overflowing grief. I can push it down as much as I can, but it will eventually bubble up. 

Jewish ritual helped me through the first few days, weeks, and year after Mom died. But what Jewish ritual exists for this sudden reappearance of raw grief? 

I miss Mom terribly. Eliza is going through a sleep regression and separation anxiety right now and I feel lost and I want to call her. I don’t really have anyone to ask about how I was as a toddler, no one to help me compare my growth with Eliza’s. 

I hate this.