I've been trying to construct this blog post since ... well ... about August 24. The truth is, I'm afraid to write it. Why? Because I despise the grieving process. Grief has a way of swallowing you. Upon hearing the news, your world tips askew, your stomach starts to roll, and sometimes, a hint of a lullaby begins to sound in your ear. As if the Almighty knows you'll need a heavenly guardian's hum to find sleep tonight.
Despite my despising, it is absolutely necessary that I grieve a bit, and pay tribute to one rock-star mother-in-law in the most eloquent way that I know how. And maybe, just maybe, dear reader, this tribute can assist you in any sort of loss or letting-go that you also may be experiencing. Bear with me as I once again remove my eldest son from the blog-writing seat, allow myself to be momentarily grief-swallowed, and offer you my own voice.I should have told her how much I admired her, how much I hoped to be like her, how much she made me feel like -- in her presence -- I was home. I should have been more intentional about in-person visits, regular Scrabble games, occasions to let her care for my children. I should have listened more carefully. I want to know more about her childhood, her adulthood, her motherhood. I want to hear her singing voice.
I'd like her to know that her son -- my patient, loving, courageous husband -- is everything that he is because of her care, her humor, her talent, her confidence and influence. For as much as I tumbled head over heels for my Adam, it likely happened because he reflects so much of her compassion, loyalty, and humble strength.Perhaps this is what it means to be a matriarch. A female leader of a family or tribe, says good ol' Webster -- but a true matriarch is that and so much more. Whether a mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, godmother or mother figure to another, a true matriarch leads her tribe and offers the heartbeat. The order. The model. The strength. The rhythm. We look to our matriarch for wisdom, for courage, for permission and affirmation. We lean on our matriarch when we're searching, weary, sad and troubled. Most of all, whether we know it or not, we emulate the rhythm of our matriarch with each success, milestone and proud life-moment.
So fortunate am I to be a part of her family. For, whether she knew it or not, my mother-in-law was heroine to all of us. She'd guffaw at that, I'm sure, but much like my own mother, Barbara Conrad is the heartbeat of her family. We looked to her; we leaned on her; we laughed with her; we lived with her. So lucky am I to have called her mother.
As it turns out, I can't tell her all of this anymore. And so, I have to show her. Help me, Barb, to grow into the matriarch that you are. Help me emulate your rhythm, so that I can offer your same wisdom and strength to my family. Remind me -- remind all of us -- that no matter what kind of letting-go we're experiencing, that we'll grow through this grief. We'll adapt to our new normal, and we'll once again feel life's constant tug of heartache and hope, and once again discover life's delicate balance of loss and love.Prayers up, dear matriarch. You are deeply loved and greatly missed.
Love,
Molly
