An Odd Mix of Grief and Gratitude

This past Sunday was Mother’s Day, which, since 2009, has filled me with an odd mix of grief and gratitude. For those of you who don’t know, my mom passed away unexpectedly at the age of 50. I was 26 at the time and the sense of loss and heartbreak just crushed me. “Ma” was one of my rocks in life, a woman who put everyone else’s needs before her own, the first person I called when I had a question about something because she was always right about everything. She was also my biggest fan, supportive of whatever it was I tried to do, and proud of me no matter what, even and especially when I fell flat on my face. I miss her so f*cking much and there are still days that her not being here leaves me feeling sad and lost.

But as much as this “holiday” stirs up feelings of grief that will never go away, it also fills me with an enormous amount of gratitude. In last week’s issue of the newsletter I shared a quote from Stephen Colbert. A few years ago he told Anderson Cooper, “It’s a gift to exist. And with existence comes suffering. There’s no escaping that. But if you are grateful for your life. Then you have to be grateful for all of it.” Man, does that resonate with me. Of all the lessons my mom taught me, perhaps the biggest is that life is short: Take no day for granted. Don’t get caught up in bullshit. Be nice to people. Say thank you. Spend time with the people you love (and let them know you love them). Set a good example. Get out of your comfort zone. Take chances. Do the things you really want to do. Live without regret. Maybe I would have come to learn these things eventually but losing my mom so suddenly was the wakeup call I didn’t know I needed. It reminded me how fragile all of this is, how none of us are promised tomorrow, and how love doesn’t disappear when someone’s gone—it just changes shape.

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this publicly but my wife, Christine, also lost her mom prematurely. It was actually our tattoos—she has a rose on her foot honoring her mom, I have a Celtic cross with a sun rising behind it on my lower left leg memorializing mine—that led to our first conversation. I’m convinced that was our moms’ way of introducing us and gifting us the incredible life that we’ve been fortunate to enjoy together for the past 14 years. It was through our shared grief that we found a new form of love.

So as I reflect on the woman who raised me and helped make me into the person I am today, I can’t help but be struck by the quiet, unexpected ways she continues to influence my life, even in her absence. Try to take a minute or two for yourself and reflect on the people who’ve shaped your life: the ones that are still here, and those that have left too soon. Let their example inspire you to live more fully and with gratitude for the gift of existence, as brutal as it can be sometimes. In my experience, that’s the best way we can continue to honor them and keep their memory alive.