This month has been blur. Two weeks ago, my family and I traveled to Florida for the kickoff of an amazing vacation. We spent a day at Legoland then visited Sea World before boarding a Disney cruise ship to sail the seas with eleven additional family members (16 of us in all).
As many of you know, I’m a cruise gal. I love being whisked away to a different location with the taste of salt in the air, the ocean teasing me with its brilliance right outside my balcony door. I love being pampered (who doesn’t?) and enjoying a few days of not cooking dinner, not making my bed, not being the source of entertainment for my children. It’s a time for rest, reflection, rejuvenation. Even being disconnected from WiFi and cell service is a blissful change to my normally hectic world.
We plan our cruise vacations years in advance. The anticipation that builds prior to vacation is one that rivals birthday parties, holiday gift-giving, births and weddings. We talk about the activities we can’t wait to do. We reminisce about experiences from the last time we cruised. We imagine what will happen the next time we travel.
I take hundreds of photos during our cruises. They are my souvenirs, more precious than any t-shirt or postcard you will find. They remind me of beauty. Kindness. Peace. Joy.
But now, as I’m scrolling through all the photos from our vacation, I feel the need to add another word to that list: Guilt.
See, the cruise we took this year was a gift from my father-in-law, in memory of my mother-in-law who passed away March 2016. They wanted the extended family to have something to look forward to after she was gone, so they arranged for this vacation with everyone together.
Everyone except for mom.
My in-laws have cruised before. In fact, we invited them to share in our own cruise vacation in 2010 when my youngest child was only ten months old. We had a fabulous time making a lifetime of memories that week. Even today, we tease my now seven-year-old how Grandma and Grandpa searched the entire ship for a hot dog bun to appease him. Not the hot dog itself. The hot dog bun.
But now it’s different.
My mother-in-law is gone and we are still finding our own ways to heal from that loss.
During this cruise, we visited various ports. As we traveled to the same locations we had shared with her, I could feel her presence in so many ways. Oh, the memories that flooded my heart as we toured the aquarium at Atlantis and strolled the walkway at Castaway Cay! I felt her whisper on my shoulder from the gentle Caribbean breeze and her love from the warmth of the sun. Even at dinner I found myself lost in the conversation as I remembered the way she would smile and laugh at our reflections of the day.
We had an amazing vacation. Now we are home, re-acclimating to our everyday lives, and I am compiling the photos to share.
But now it’s different.
My mom is gone, too.
This trip had nothing to do with my mom at all as this was a celebration with my husband’s family. In fact, the loss of my mom was never mentioned by anyone the entire week. It wasn’t the focus of the trip, therefore it didn’t rise to the surface of conversation. It may have been the proverbial elephant in the room or perhaps not even a thought; either way, it wasn’t discussed. I briefly referenced her in a passing conversation about childhood memories, but that was it. My mom, her life, her death, were topics only for me to dwell upon.
Now here I am, pouring over hundreds of photos, wondering, “Who do I share these with now?”
Survivor’s guilt is real.
It’s only been two months since my mom’s death and I’m still riding the roller coaster of grief. I am paralyzed by the weight of sorrow as I remember the joy I experienced last week. How could I have allowed myself moments of fun on the heels of my mother’s demise? Why am I deserving to be blessed by the generosity of a family-funded vacation? Who really cares about my stories anyway? Why even share this with the world?
I am quickly learning that grief and guilt are seatmates in the cargo space of my mind.
So bear with me a bit as I navigate these crashing waves and searing riptides. My heart is still mending and I may seem a bit disconnected at times.
This coming week I will share stories from my cruise with parallels to my experiences as a mom, an educator, a daughter and friend. My goal this year is to be more transparent in my reflections, so I thought this would be a great place to start. For those of you still sifting through the pain of loss, perhaps these stories will help us heal together.
I can’t share my stories with my mom anymore, so I will share them with you.