Mole

My grief is a mole on my chin.

I face it in the morning as I brush my teeth.

I examine it at night after I take off my make up. Wondering if it has grown, is it infected? Or just irritated? Many times just irritated. Volatile little thing.

At times it is HUGE and it takes over my entire face. Perhaps the first thing people notice.

At times it is small and I think only adds to my character.

Regardless, it is there everyday.

And I stare in mirror and pick at it and say 'What will I do with you today?' 

Will I try to cover you up? Will I let you consume who I am? Or add to my character? 

What will I do with you today?  

The last couple weeks have been heartbreaking and soul searching. Ironically, I have also become close with some amazing Mamas who have recently lost their Littles and are navigating through life with strength and tears and grace.

To look at these beautiful Mamas, you would never know they examine the mirror with scrutiny; examining their grief, wondering how it has changed them, wondering if it will consume them. 

They look just like you or me. 

Crazy thing about grief. 

And so I thought we should meet for brunch; Eggs Benedict, Mimosas and a hearty helping of Grief al la mode. 

Of the eight of us, four of us have lost, three have a Little with a life limiting disease and one poor woman came along for the ride. 

And I know what you are thinking.....Heather, I would love to join you all but sadly I have a pap-smear, mammogram followed by a session of sticking bamboo up my toenails and that just sounds like more fun. 

I get it. And no judging. 

But I had a wonderful time. We told stories that would make non-mole carrying people shudder. And we told them with wild abandon, honesty and empathy.  We could be each others reflection; bouncing ideas, tears, anger and laughter off each other. 

"Do you see it?" I said pointing at my chin, "It's soooo freakin' big! I think it has taken over my face." 

"Nah, it's there but if you didn't point it out I would have never noticed. Does it hurt?" 

"Some days. Some days it hurts like a mother f*#cker. Most days I'm just aware it's there." 

Crazy thing about grief.