I’m in Japan and while it is an amazing trip I have been reminded that grief tends to travel with you - wherever you go. This past week a thick layer of grief has coated my mind and heart knowing that two years ago on October 22nd, my dear mom would take her last breath and with her hand in mine, the light would dim and fade from her beautiful brown eyes.

And while my grief has shifted and softened, it is very much with me all the time. Most days it’s humming softly in the background but on these milestone days, the tears come easily and memories of those last October days hurt and I miss her more than any words could say.

With that being said, to be surrounded by the beauty of the mountains, lake, and backdrop of the fall colors in Nikko have blessed me with the ZEN and peace I needed to carry the weight of sadness that I feel this time of year. There is, without question, something spiritual about this beautiful place and I can feel the presence of my mom here.

But I also feel an emptiness. A deep void that has come to rest in my soul as I continue to navigate the journey of my life without the woman who gave me life, and was my biggest champion and lifelong friend. It is hard for me to believe it’s been two years since the warmth of her hand turned cool in mine. In some ways it feels like yesterday yet it seems like forever since I last saw her and I was forced to say goodbye.

What I do know is I will always grieve for her and no amount of time will completely wash the grief I carry away. Yes, the pain has dulled but the reality of what it means to live life in her absence has landed quite hard this week.

The reality of what “no more” means has become all too real and I’m struggling to accept so many things.

There will be no more daily phone calls and I miss the sound of her voice.

There will be no more conversations while sipping on our Vanilla Soy Lattes from Starbucks and enjoying a cream cheese pumpkin muffin on a crisp fall day.

There will be no more going for rides to breathe in the beauty of the stunning fall leaves.

There will be no more going to weekend matinees and sharing a bucket of popcorn, chocolate, and a glass of ice cold soda.

There will be no more hugs from the woman who made me feel loved and safe - regardless of what was happening in my life.

There will be no more moments of listening to her contagious laugh that made our entire family laugh so hard it would bring us to tears.

There will be no more cheering on the Vikings wearing purple (her favorite color) together on a Sunday afternoon.

There will be no more pictures taken with her or capturing the pure joy and smiles on her face as she held her great grandchildren.

There will be no more unconditional support from my biggest fan - a fan that always encouraged me to follow my dreams and loved me even when things were falling apart.

There will be no more of so many things that I long for and miss every single day.

Honestly, the reality of no more has hit hard today and I would give anything to see her, talk to her, hug her, and tell her how much I love her just one more time. I would give anything to share the beautiful fall colors of Nikko with her, because fall was her favorite time of year.

Oh how I miss you mom and nothing can ever take away the love I have for you. Even in separation, the love you gave and the love we shared sustains me and keeps me connected to you regardless of where I am in the world.

I am sad today. I just am, but I’m also soaking in the beauty that surrounds me on this sacred milestone day. And as I immerse myself in the peaceful surroundings of Nikko, I can’t help but think about Kintsugi. Kintsugi is an ancient Japanese tradition of repairing broken pottery with a strong, sealing bond that is mixed with gold.

In the hands of a Kintsugi artist, a broken bowl is transformed into a unique piece of art in which cracks are not disguised or thrown away but, rather, strengthened to honor the bowl’s history. It is somehow stronger in the broken places and with time, it is a transformation of beauty despite its cracks and imperfections.

When ready to open your heart and mind to the possibilities of life after loss, the art of Kintsugi can offer a powerful metaphor for grief.

It symbolizes the way that grief often strips us down to a place of vulnerability leaving us exposed and then asks us to rebuild. It symbolizes how broken we as human beings feel after a heartbreaking loss. Grief asks a lot of people and in part, encourages us to find a way to shine a light into the dark spaces born out of loss and pain. And, this sacred art form holds a story with the hope that healing all that feels so broken allows us to emerge from the darkness stronger and more beautiful.

Grief takes patience and hard work, but with time I have found it can also join our broken places together with those parts of us that hold courage and strength; it unites the past with our present. And what if healing those broken pieces of ourselves can eventually transform us as we learn to rebuild a new but different life. A life that carries our scars while honoring those we have lost?

I find myself clinging to this possibility and while my heart is still broken and I grieve for my mom every day, I am determined to move forward in life and choose to NOT let loss destroy or define every part of who I am. I am determined to piece the broken parts back together and while different, emerge stronger while honoring my moms legacy with love.

Trust me when I say I’m not minimizing how hard and painful the journey of grief is. But I do believe it’s possible to weather the darkest of storms, rebuild, and live a full and beautiful life again, cracks and all. I know it can be hard to see this depending on where you are at in your own personal journey of loss and grief. But it is possible. I have seen it time and time again. Human beings are hardwired to cope with and survive even in the face of unimaginable tragedy.

If you are grieving and your heart is broken into a million pieces, I’m sorry. I know how much loss hurts but it’s also my hope that you can move forward to a place that shines a light into the dark places of grief and while it will look different, I hope you can piece all that feels so broken back together again. It’s my hope you will once again see the beauty in life despite the cracks and imperfections. It’s my hope joy, resilience and peace will find their way back to you.

As I write, I am looking at the most vibrant of colors blanketing the mountain that looms in front of me and even though sadness remains and I miss my mom so much, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace today.

The reality of “no more” hurts and I will continue to miss my mom and grieve for her but I also know she is with me in this sacred place and I will always try to be the best parts of who she was and live my life in a way that would make her proud of me.

I love and miss you mom.

With love from Japan,

Michele