A Safe Place

In between burger and quesadilla  bites, this group of women chatter about the mundane. Whose job was the easiest. Who just got a raise. Who was doing what with their retirement years. Whose child is now in college. Who needed a vacation. But it was inevitable that we would eventually get around to talking about what has brought us together on this balmy afternoon. 

Each from different walks of life. Each living in different parts of South Florida, drawn together by this simple fact–we had each experienced the loss of our mother. I didn’t quite know what to expect. I figured a meal and a margarita wouldn’t hurt. Anywhere there are beautiful sistahs would also mean great convo. It was that and so much more. 

It is the gentle reminder that loss is a natural thing. Be it ten years or ten days, it’s as fresh as yesterday. It is knowing that one’s experience is mirrored in the eyes of another. It is the stories that ring with so many similarities and differences all at once. It is the feeling okay with where you are in the grief process. It is being able to speak without watching your listener squirm. It is laughing and holding back tears all at the same time. It is knowing that life will never be the same without your mother. 

As we each grab our purses to leave, I know the collective sigh we breathe is thankfulness to be heard in a safe and welcoming space. 


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