I signed up for grief art. I don’t usually do that: sign up for things I have never done with people I have never met.

But something (or someone) compelled me. The Hospice group that provided care for my mom in her last two days life offered me bereavement services. I received mailings from them: a lovely brochure, sweet looking grief counselors, and a myriad of different opportunities. I was drawn to the grief art. I hadn’t done art in so long, and I love to be creative. I would also receive a free flower pot and rosemary plant. Sign me up! But I hesitated and thought the business of life would brush the opportunity under the rug where it would be forgotten. Then I wouldn’t have to put myself out there.

Months went by and I couldn’t get the grief art out of my mind. I really thought I was supposed to be there. So I called and signed up myself and my neighbor who had recently lost her dad. The only problem was my neighbor didn’t know anything about the grief art…yet.

A couple weeks was all I had to devise a plan. Get a card. Find a gift. Search for appropriate wrappings. Drop a sympathy gift and card (asking her to come with me to grief art) on my neighbor’s front step.

She enthusiastically and immediately agreed to go. I was so surprised!

Greif art, here we come!

We arrived on the day of the event to find a large room with quite a few people already gathered. There were flower pots, all kinds of markers and paints plus everything you could think of to glue on your pot at the many “gluing stations”.

An artists dream!

Then the food started to arrive. Carts and carts of food! Oh yeah, lunch was included. I could hardly eat anything for the excitement I felt at being creative again.

My mom was on a mission at the end of her life, to complete as many adult coloring pages she could and give them away to bless others. Her colorings became more and more bold with brighter and deeper colors. I thought of the amazing pictures of hot air balloons that she had colored and passed out to different family members. I wanted to recreate that on my pot.

We were supposed to design our pots to give honor to our loved one. When you have art to concentrate on, conversation flows easily. I had lovely conversations with my neighbor and the lady who sat beside me. I asked one of the older gentlemen who his pot was for and he replied, “My wife.”

“What is her name?” I asked.

“Connie,” he said the with such love. He could say no more for the raw grief and tears that came with just uttering that precious name. I was arrested by tears and couldn’t say anything either. What could I say? But I looked at him with the compassion of God and nodded my head. I hope he received the message that I could not speak out loud.

“I see you. I have sympathy for you. I understand your grief, at least an infinitesimal part of your grief, and I applaud you for coming here today.”

I worked the entire time until the sweet grief counselors seemed ready to leave. All that time and I didn’t create a masterpiece. But I was happy with what I ended up with. Similar to my mom’s coloring but softer and lighter (like me). It makes me happy to look at it, and it reminds me of my mom.

I set it up on my kitchen window sill, along with the sunflower jar that used to nurture the tiny yellow flowers that brought my mom such joy. It was the only kind of plant that I could buy for my mom that wouldn’t die. The sunflower seeds would sprout and grow in water and wouldn’t shrivel up in the 80 degree habitat mom lived in. A Mother’s Day gift for mom last year.

Today is mother’s day. I received a rose at church this morning. A brilliant rose of yellow whose petals looked like they were dipped in crimson. I got it home and knew I had the perfect vase for it. It was a vase of my mom’s that I have totally forgotten about. This week I was able to attend the funeral of my best friend’s mother-in-law. My best friend has been with me since first grade and she knew my mom better that most. With all that she had to do, she remembered to bring the vase to give to me at the funeral. She explained that this vase had been sitting in her mother-in-law’s window sill for many years. My mom had stopped by her home long ago to bring her flowers in this fiery vase. Now it was in my possession.

It was as though I had received a gift from my mom from beyond the grave.

I have the hope that my mom is living in indescribable joy right now!

I know that Jesus is taking care of her body, soul, and spirit.

I have to remind myself that I don’t have to carry the burden of being her firstborn and her power of attorney anymore. I am free to enjoy my Mother’s day with my children without worrying if I am visiting my mom enough and getting her a gift that is sufficiently meaningful.