Tracey Elizabeth Webb Associates

What I Have Learned About Loss...

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My Mother died a little more than a year ago. My Father died 35 years ago. Walking the earth as an adult orphan is a strange, disconnected feeling. My Mother has been a part of every birthday, every holiday season, and every major joy and loss in my 56 years on this planet. So how does one navigate when that maternal connection is gone? When that unconditional acceptance vanishes?

My Mother was my North Star. No matter how much success I garnered or how many accolades came my way, Ms. Mary had a way of keeping me grounded in my authentic self: that smart and scruffy kid who grew up in the hills of Berkeley, California. I could have on my finest business suit with the most gorgeous pair of Italian high heels. None of that matters. She could still reduce me to that gregarious and sometimes annoyingly inquisitive girl with pig tails and the big heart. Thankfully, she could reduce me to my most innocent and unpretentious self: a child who needed her mother.

My Mother was fierce. She fought through cancers, MS, and finally a stroke. In the end, her central nervous system was simply worn out. The arteries could no longer carry enough oxygenated blood to her brain, she couldn’t stand due to a drop in blood pressure upon rising, and she became bed-ridden.

She came home from the skilled nursing facility for the last three months of her life. She tried to regain her strength, but her body was giving out from under her. 2016 was one of the hardest years of my life because I was trying to save my Mother against all odds. She had always fought back—surely she would this time—she just needed our encouragement.

It became apparent, after two major seizures, Mom would not recover. Three weeks after those consecutive trips to the ER over two days, we put Mom in hospice. I remember falling into the arms of my boyfriend’s sister when I told her what we had just done.

My sister called me three days before Mom died to tell me that the hospice nurse told her that death was imminent in a matter of days, a week at the most. She told me to come right then. I delayed for two hours—taking a long, hot bath, packing a bag with clothes that didn’t match, forgetting my heart medication. None of that mattered. I was going to my Mother’s house to say goodbye to the woman who gave me life.

Mom died two and a half days later at 2:45am on Saturday, January 14, 2016. The day before she died, she woke up in a rare moment of lucidity and thanked me for taking care of her. I told her that it was an honor. My God, this was the woman who gave me life and who supported me through every nanosecond of this journey. It was the hardest thing that I have ever done—but it was the most rewarding next to the birth of my only child.

I have learned that love and grief can exist simultaneously. I have learned that we discover things about our loved ones long after they are gone—things become clearer somehow. I realized that my brilliant Mother took charge of her end of life experience by ceasing food intake during the last month. She knew what she was doing. And I respect her for it. She has given me courage to face and to orchestrate my end of life and transition, given the chance.

I have learned that we keep the spirits of our loved ones alive by paying homage to their traditions. This holiday season I cooked all of my Mother’s special dishes. I prepared and served them with love and care. I remembered her lessons that she gleaned from the Tao Te Ching. Her most important teaching: softness wins over hardness every time. So I cooked, I tried my best to be kind, compassionate, and gentle, and I tried to honor my Mother.

I was driving on the Bay Bridge the other day. Roberta Flack came on my Sirius Radio singing, “Killing Me Softly.” I began crying as I remembered my childhood Saturday mornings with that song cascading throughout our home.

I have learned that grief is a welcome emotion; it is a necessary part of the human condition if we have formed meaningful connections in our life. I am learning that love courses through our veins alongside grief, joy, hope, fear, and peace. Ultimately, it is about accepting the complexity of this journey. Life is far beyond three-dimensional. In fact, I don’t think that we can quantify the dimensions.

What I do know is that the deeper we love—the harder we grieve. And that is a very good thing. It means that we have forged connections that transcend physical constraints. So, I stay tethered to my Mother, but this time she is in me. My North Star is now a part of my soul.

The Journey...! Check it out: http://vsta.pr/Nulq4Y via

We provide the following services: -Executive coaching regarding communication/presentation skills and organizational strategy; -Profesional and executive team building to encourage authentic dialogue and innovation;- Creation and implementation of organizational strategies designed to accelerate the performance of human capital through work infused with passion and meaning; - Discovering and developing the organizational DNA--determining where the organization can compete with passion, strength, and the instrinsic ability to win;--Strategic business development consulting designed to increase the organization's bottom line with emphasis on authentic dialogue internally an with clients/customers.