I had a cup of tea with mom last night in my dream. it was very real. it was like a day in our life all over again. starting with the sound of clink against cup. Watching her wrap the tea bag string around the spoon to strain out the last of the water. Whistle from her teeth as she was making toast and taking her daily concoction of pills. The house is exactly as I remember it. frozen in time down to the stack of phone books and notes from phone messages taken but not thrown out yet, microwave, Coffee maker, yellow cups in the cabinets everything preserved in my memory like ancient artifact in a museum. everything that I seemed to drink in as my mind strolled through the house quiet and contemplating, a day from my past. blue corduroy pants, white v neck shirt with red ban and the waist. I was young and beautiful. music from Willi played quietly in the background, polka, I believe. My mom’s cat was aware of the observer me watching and kept staring at me. jumped into mom’s lap for pots all the while an eye on me. It was a weekend. My sister in her light blue 4 door arrived and flew into the house with short hair, tired and exhausted. Two Toddlers in tow. My neices. Dropping them off with at Mom’s so she could go to work at the vets office down the road. The day was on fast forward from there until I started getting ready to go out for the night. putting on my green army jacket and brown shows from the overflowing mud room, so many jackets and shoes. Nikki horn outside, and I barely said goodbye as I ran out the door. An uneventful night of driving around in Nikkis car. A part of me somehow in the back seat observing the silliness of my teenage life, and all the intensity of each emotion. When I arrived at home there was mom. The cat seemed to see me and usher me in. I wanted to be with Mom. I wanted to talk to her, so young and beautiful, and I barely paid any attention to her. Now, after her passing, I was riveted by everything she said and did. The cat seemed to tell me it was time to go. pushing me slowly out and back to my body. I woke up feeling sad but happy. Love you, Mom. Miss you.

This is a painting from the Worcester Art museum- I went there recently and it really helped heal my soul – I felt Mom in it….that bond of Mother & Child.

My winter has been a hard one. I’ve wanted many times to reach out to the #SWONE Spiritual Women of New England, but I just haven’t had the energy. I tend to go inwards and need quiet contemplating before seeking healing or advice. There’s something magical about this shadow time – darl winter time of the year and being able to go within….as a leo The sun is my world and I need it to thrive…. I feel winter deeply, as my shadow time,my new moon dark phase- just as I feel the solar return of the Sun around my birthday in August as full moon… Imbolc is on February 2nd: We are moving into a quarter turn of the wheel of the seasons, halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. I can truly feel the return of the Sun, the rise of sun in my horizon of life once more – which is why Imbolc and Groundhog Day have always meant so much to me. It feels like my heartbeat starts to pump again and life begins to rebloom in my veins after a very deep shadow time.This winter was especially hard because I’ve been dealing with the loss of my mother. It will be one year since she passed away at the end of March. The day she got sick was around her 80th birthday on March 3rd, and as I get closer to this time of year, I feel her deeply. Today I received her death certificate in the mail, and it felt very real—like closure for a year of grief, walking in the shadows of myself and the hauntings of our relationship. What it was, what it could have been if only we had both forgiven each other and moved just a little bit further toward understanding.I love my mother deeply and always have. Our early years were quite magical, and in these last few months of the dark shadow night, I’ve been reliving my childhood in many ways, looking in as a voyeur to those days. I say “our” childhood because, being a mother myself now, I know my child(ren)doesn’t remember all the things I remember. Just as my childhood was fresh and alive to my mother, their memories are fresh to me.I have three older siblings I don’t talk to much, mainly because of the age difference—they lived a different life and had a different woman as a mother. My mom had me when she was going through her rebirth, figuring out who she was as a woman and her worthiness in the world. She implanted that seed of possibility within me, something I’m not sure she was able to give my siblings. While our childhood was filled with love, blessings, and connection, the teenage and adult years separated us into a deep cavern we never quite bridged.Some of that separation came from the independence she planted in me and the spirituality she taught me to grow, even if she didn’t understand my version of it. My mother was a Jehovah’s Witness, and she did not see the world spiritually the way I did. I think she was, in some ways, afraid of me, but she still loved and supported me even while telling me she didn’t understand. Looking back at our life together and how we interacted, I wish I’d been more open, honest, loving, and authentic with her instead of always trying to hide who I was. In my mind, it was out of respect, but in many ways, it was just me not being able to see her true potential.Now I am sitting and slowly unraveling from the winter darkness, emerging like a tiny root just beginning to send shoots down, long before I’m ready to pop my head out in the Sun again. I’m here and realizing a rebirth in my life, my business, and my marriage. I’m starting to feel okay again. It’s taken me a long time in this grief process, and part of me didn’t even realize I was grieving this year because my mom and I had not been very close. I felt guilty about feeling grief, guilty about not doing enough while she was alive, and ashamed that I missed her so much now that she was gone, when I barely paid attention to her when she was here.But as the quarter turn of the wheel comes, I see myself rebirthing into a new aspect of who I am, who I want to be, and how I want to connect with my children, my husband, and the people I love. I’m discovering how I want to show up for my clients and be present in my business—how I want to be more authentic, honest, truthful, and loving. That includes showing my fragility, being humble about my needs as a human, acknowledging my desires as a woman, and embracing my gifts as a healer.I am rebirthing myself with the death of my mother. Living in a world where she no longer exists means that I am the one to carry on the line from my lineage. I feel deeply my maternal line pushing me forward—an ancestral lineage of change-makers and way-showers, women who lived ordinary lives in extraordinary ways. Though we might not be famous or walk the red carpet, we are making shifts and changes every day for the betterment of the entire world.My mom’s mother, in a time before divorce was even really accepted, saved money from a part-time job under her mattress until she had enough to leave an abusive man and buy a house. That’s the house I grew up in—the house that, when my grandmother died, my mom was able to move into and leave her own abusive husband. And here I am now, a woman navigating the strength of my ancestors and my mother, knowing that I am the next generation, the standing generation passing the baton to my daughter and to her children.I have a healthy marrage wityba loving man in a home we have built together. I hope much children do more and improve our family line and advance it one more notch down the road. I’m living authenticly. I’m doing this by living an ordinary life in an extraordinary way—by loving my children each and every day, by being honest and humble with them when I make mistakes, showing them the frailty of my humanness. I show them what it means to acknowledge mistakes and ask for forgiveness. I demonstrate that every day I’m learning and growing, that some days are hard and dark and shadowed, and that’s okay. Grief is okay, sadness is okay, anger is okay—they’re all righteous emotions flowing through me with grace and love for the betterment of myself and the world.I forgive myself for being messy, and I want to show an example to myself and to the world that we can be messy and beautiful at the same time. That we can be strong and soft, that we can be lovable and loving while having clear boundaries. I want to set an example for myself, my family, and my clients that I’m here to do the work for myself, and I’ll never stop. It’s a promise I make: I’m here to heal, and I’m here to help others heal as well.Even though this past year I haven’t been showing up in the way that I wanted to, everyone has accepted me exactly as I am. It’s in that messiness and honesty that people have accepted me, and through that acceptance, I’ve begun to accept myself. I am okay. I am enough. Even if I’m only shining at half-light, I don’t need to be full-on and full-amp for the rest of the world, because I need to save and shine that light for myself. It’s okay for me to want health and happiness and healing for myself, and by giving those things to myself, I help others.It’s curious to me that my business has done better this year than any other year, even though I’ve tried so much less. I think I’ve just been more authentic with my energy and myself. That authenticity has allowed the world to see me for who I am, and I see that they accept me. In fact, I think we’re all craving authenticity in this world. We gravitate toward people we see and trust and know. That’s why in this group, I haven’t posted as much—because I wasn’t able to post happy pictures and smiley faces. I have only been able to show up as I am: a woman moving through grief.I’ve never known grief before, not like this. My father passed away when I was 15, but I didn’t really know him enough to grieve him. This experience with my mother has shown me so much about myself and who I am in this world—the daughter of Sharon, I am a healer, an entrepreneur, and an authentic soul, ready to rise and rebirth, rooted and grounded.If my journey through grief and transformation resonates with you, know that you’re not alone in navigating these shadow times. Every experience of loss, growth, and rebirth is unique, yet we share these profound human experiences in ways that connect us deeply. As a healer and life coach who has walked through the dark and emerged transformed, I offer a safe space for you to explore your own journey—whether you’re processing grief, seeking authenticity, or yearning to step into your power. Together, we can honor both the shadows and the light, finding strength in our vulnerability and wisdom in our wounds. Feel welcome to reach out and share your story. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is simply begin the conversation, and I’m here to listen, support, and walk beside you on your path to healing.Email me @ luvnl888@gmail.com or PM me on Facebook PS: I did edit this with AI but the writing is moi.