The Grief Room: Poetry for the Mothers

The Grief Room

Maureen Fannin

 

I’m learning to live.
My breath keeps going.
There is no other choice.

 

I will try again
on these holidays,
despite my will
to keep it all at bay.

 

My hands feel tired
in my growing old age.
Grief becomes a comfort,
a familiar weight,
heavy on some days.

 

I can hold you close,
remember your name.
The past unfolds—
another chance
in grief’s safe room.

 

I know I’m not alone.
So many mothers
crawl into this room.

 

The world won’t knock
or enter our crowded room.
It’s a sacred space,
where we hold onto
our children’s loving grace.

 

These mothers join together,
still learning from each other.
Our children gather too,
holding us
in grief’s safe room.

 

We’ll keep learning
how to come and go,
step in, step out—
because we are mothers, always,

 in grief’s safe crowded room.

 

The Art of Finding Meaning in Grief

I’m thinking of what to write for my November post, which surprisingly has been a beautiful month in my corner of the world. I always seem to associate November with rain drizzling and thick clouds of grey. This month has been nothing but blue skies and endless sunshine, which is a blessing after all the terrible tragedies of the recent hurricanes.

It’s been a productive month with my startup nonprofit, Ian’s Village, as we refine our mission and vision while moving forward. It’s not a particularly easy endeavor to combine intention, action, and purpose in a meaningful way. I’ve always been a seeker of meaning, although resistance has always been its shadow, ever in my wake.

Ian’s Village is inspired by my son’s life and death, and its mission lends to giving grief a second chance. However, grief doesn't easily allow for second chances. Its keeper is resistance, preventing us from moving forward and learning to live again.

When Ian first died from fentanyl poisoning, I rushed into the idea of creating Ian’s Village, a community to help our youth and young adults to find connection and growth in the creative arts. Finding meaning was central to its purpose. This meaning, in whatever ways it developed with each participant, may have been my effort at bargaining to keep his spirit alive. But I believe Ian’s story is all of our stories, with its central themes of creating, struggling, learning, striving, and finding our place in the world.

Although resistance soon cast its shadow once again as I moved through waves of grief. There were days when getting up and moving through my day felt impossible. I still have those days, but I think it’s the meaning I create for each day that gets me up and moving forward. Sometimes, the resistance wins, but the meaning I try to recreate in my life with my younger son is always there, waiting, as the grieving process unfolds.

There is an aspect of finding yourself in grief. As Trent Shelton, a motivational speaker, wisely said, "Your life isn’t about finding yourself; it’s about creating yourself." Not easily done, but finding meaning is an act of creation. It’s something we can cultivate as we face each new day. Resistance will always be our shadow in grief, but it can also inform us that we need to rest or do self-care.

Ian’s Village is my way of finding meaning and sharing Ian’s creative spirit. I hope whatever meaning you find in the process of recreating your life shines light into the loss you’ve endured.

Note:

• For more on the transformative power of grief, see Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief by David Kessler.
• To explore Trent Shelton’s motivational work, visit TrentShelton.com.