Last year I didn’t write on the anniversary of my Mother’s death. I had written a blog post every year on the date of her death for the first three years. This time it didn’t feel right.

I thought to myself, I’m starting to wallow. I sound whiny. Depressing. And no one wants to listen to that. So I didn’t write anything on the fourth anniversary of her death. The last time I wrote it was February 23rd, 2020.

Well, we all know what happened next. The world imploded. In more ways than one. Not only were we in the throws of a pandemic, but we were in a new business. And trying to have a baby. And we didn’t know if we would every be able to travel again, let alone have our jobs, our health and our sanity.

So when February 23rd, 2021 rolled around I just wasn’t feeling it. I thought no one wants to hear this because at that point it didn’t matter how good your year was going, it was still shitty. Everyone’s year had their own grief, devastation and exhaustion. My Mother’s death anniversary fell on the same month as our expected first child’s birth. And while that’s a story I’m not ready to share, it just was a really emotional month, so I didn’t write. The world was a heavy place and it seems I’m only capable of writing once the fog has lifted.

And I thought to myself, I’m not the only one who is travelling the timeline of grief. Everyone has at some point. And if you haven’t, I feel sorry for you.

Not that I ever wish grief upon anyone, but it’s inevitable. And to know that intense pain is waiting for you just around the corner is paralyzing. Mind Numbing.

Miraculously once you’ve been through the fog it’s almost satisfying knowing you’ll be better prepared next time.

You’ll see it coming.

And to see it coming and think just maybe it won’t sting as bad this time is somewhat morbidly comforting. Twisted, I know.

And so now it’s February 23rd, 2022. And in the words of my Grandmother – to hell with it.

I don’t write for the masses or for income, I write to heal and don’t care if a single soul reads it (but if you are reading it and got this far – I see you. Thank you!) And if I can help your journey with grief for just a split second, then I’ve already won.

The best thing about February 2021 when I wasn’t ready to write was the fact that I was already pregnant with Elliot. We had made it past 12 weeks. We had heard her heartbeat. Our Valentine’s gift to our families was telling them that a sweet baby would be arriving that summer.

That past fall, a month before I was pregnant, I went for a Reiki session. A session that I had won years ago and thought what the heck, now is the time.

The practitioner told me immediately when I woke up that my mother was there from the very beginning of the session. She refused to leave my side and was holding a small baby. A feminine energy. The next month 2 pink lines appeared. This was it I thought. This was the baby that would arrive earth side and my Mother had already held her in her arms keeping her safe until I could meet her.

And there she arrived earth side on August 24th, 2021. And while the doctor shouted out ‘it’s a girl’ I cried tears of joy because we actually didn’t know the sex of our baby until that moment.

But I knew.

My Mom had already told me.

Elliot Katherine. ‘E’ for Elaine. Katherine for my Grandma Kay. Two fiercely strong females, a mother and a daughter who followed each other to heaven.

And so now I write again in 2022 because ‘to hell with it’. It feels good and it matters to me. And we could all use a little something that feels good after these last two years.