Marking Time

“The holiest of holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart: The secret anniversaries of the heart.”

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I received a notification the other day alerting me that I’ve been writing this grief diary for one year. It’s hard to believe, not just the passing of time, but everything—all of it. Still.

I genuinely think that once you hit adulthood time accelerates tenfold. When you lose someone you love, time takes on a new trajectory — one where the minutes move mind-numbingly fast and painfully slow simultaneously (on top of everything else). This is the ferocity of grief.

During the past year, I’ve written twenty mini-blog posts here and a million more in my head. My motivation to write this grief diary has always been about healing and gaining clarity. I’m sorry to report that I have achieved neither, however writing is what I do. It’s my coping mechanism, how I process my emotions, and a way to remember her.

Mom would expect nothing less.

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.