“Life Is Still Good”

A Reflection on Love, Loss and the Quiet Ways We Carry People With Us

It’s been one of those beautiful June weekends: sun shining, birds chirping, the kind that makes you stop and think, “life is good.” And it feels only fitting that the person I can still hear saying those words is my mom, because yesterday marked three years since she went to heaven.

For those of you that have been following my blog over the past year, you know I talk a lot about navigating grief and all the unexpected ways it shows up. Most of that has centered on my life as a widow after losing my husband, Matt. But a year before he died, I lost my mom too. And between Matt’s illness and the heartbreak that followed his death, I don’t think I ever fully grieved losing the person I know would’ve helped me through all of it.

That’s not to say that I don’t think about her daily and all the ways she impacted me, my family—and really, everyone who knew her. She was always the first person to step up when any of her family or friends needed her. She had a servant’s heart, and I always admired her generous nature when it came to her church community as well.

As an only child, my mom and I always had a very close relationship. I will always remember when I was young, and we’d drive around together in our Jeep, blasting the song “You’re So Good to Me” by the Beach Boys. And the words of that song could not be more true. My mom was always so good to me and everyone she loved. Always caring. Always giving. Always being our biggest cheerleader.

So, in an attempt to process her death, I’ve tried to keep her spirit alive in the way I live, even in grief. I keep going. I keep trying to help others where I can. I keep cheering my people on, even when my own heart feels heavy. Because that’s what she did. She made people feel like they mattered.

And maybe that’s the gift our loved ones leave behind. Not just the memories, but the example. The little blueprint for how to move through the world. My mom moved through it with joy, generosity and encouragement. And I’m trying to do the same.

As I reflect on ways I can manage my grief while carrying on my mom’s positive, giving, outlook, the snippet I shared in my mom’s eulogy comes to mind: “Whenever my mom was getting ready for an event or planning something and all the details had been completed, she would say “life is good.” That phrase struck me as appropriate for today. All the details have been figured out. An amazing life has been lived. She has shown such strength and courage and now she is at peace. Today we will celebrate that she was part of our lives, cherish the wonderful memories we made with her, and pray for her spirit.”

And maybe that is what I’m still learning to hold onto. That grief and goodness can exist in the same breath. That missing her and carrying her forward are both part of loving her. And that even on the hard days, especially on the hard days, I can still hear her voice reminding me that life is good.