In my life and the organizing work, I do with clients, letting go can be accompanied by loss and intense emotions. Loss can be of a loved one, a move away from a treasured home, a change in family structure, or a job.

Even when a change is something we want, letting go of what was, is inevitable. Because without letting go, we cannot move forward and remain stuck in the past. For some, letting go can be freeing. For others, the process is painful. It depends on the person and circumstance.

Letting Go Slowly

My mom died last month. I’ve been thinking a lot about the ways I’ve had to let go in these years. There has been letting go of her as her dementia worsened, along with the physical stuff that she owned. About four years ago, we moved mom from her home of almost 60 years into a memory care unit in an assisted living facility. At that time, I cleared out and sold her house. This was the home I grew up in and that our family gathered in for almost six decades. 

There was so much letting go that happened then. While the family wanted many of my parents’ belongings, there were many things they didn’t take. The leftovers were sold, recycled, donated, or discarded. We let go of the house contents and then the actual house. It was necessary, but I felt a profound loss and shift. 

More Letting Go

By the time I moved my mom into The Ambassador, her possessions fit into the contents of one room. She had just what she needed. No more. No less. I decorated her room before moving in so she would feel comfortable being surrounded by her favorite art, music, family photos, and piano.

After she died, I cleared out her room. It struck me how simple the process was compared to clearing out her home. The most challenging work I already did. But I noticed something interesting. While I had loving offers from my husband and kids to help pack up her room, I needed to do it myself. For me, part of letting go included touching her things one last time. I carefully packed up the framed pictures. I washed and gently folded her clothes before passing them on. For so many years, I had taken care of my mom and all of her things. I wanted to give them one last loving touch goodbye as I packed them up and routed them to family or the donation place.

“Letting go requires patience, time, readiness, and space to get there.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®, CVPO™

Balancing Loss

Grief isn’t something you get over. It’s something you live with that never entirely goes away but varies in intensity. I said earlier that one reason we let go is so we can move forward. And I get that. I believe that. But I also know that letting go requires patience, time, readiness, and space to get there. To help balance the emotions and grief, I’ve spent a lot of time these past weeks taking walks, resting, meditating, writing, talking with family and friends, getting fresh air, noticing the spring flowers, and being in the woods or near water. These help me focus on the present, reflect on the past, slowly let go, and move on. 

Some types of letting go are more energizing. This one, losing my mom and wrapping up her life, feels different. I’m being gentle with myself as I continue letting go, handle the remaining details of mom’s life, and find my way forward.

Is letting go a challenge for you? Does it feel different when it is accompanied by loss? What helps you let go? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

Letting go is never easy, even when it’s anticipated. On March 27th, my beautiful 92-year old mother, Wilma Simon Machover, died peacefully in the morning light while listening to Mozart. While her passing was expected as she had been fading these past few months, none of us thought it would happen on that day. But she was ready. As some of you may know, this has been a long goodbye. Mom was diagnosed with vascular dementia eight years ago, a year after my dad died. Her dementia presented many challenges but also learning opportunities and so much love.

In this time of grief, I am deeply moved by the outpouring of messages, support, and loving gestures from family and friends. Thank you so much for your kindness and the beautiful ways you have helped me and my family honor and celebrate my mom’s life.

It’s impossible to summarize her extraordinary life in a few words because there are so many stories and ways that she touched our lives. Instead, I’m sharing a few stories, and the legacy mom left us. 

Mom’s Legacy

When I think about the legacy mom left us, four words stand out:

• Love – which was visible in all things she touched

• Family – which was her everything

• Music – which was her passion

• Community – which she created wherever she was

Mom Stories

1. Love

Love was part of every conversation, decision, and choice mom made. It was present in her relationships and how she loved my dad, siblings, grandkids, family, friends, and me.

I remember after Allison was born and I was pregnant with baby #2, our beautiful Cassie. I was worried and scared, so I talked with my mom. Would I have enough love for another child? She assured me and said that love is an amazing thing. There is no limit on how much love we have. It keeps growing. And she was right. The more you love, the more love you have to give.

Always the teacher and role model, I watched mom. When each of her seven grandkids was born (Allison, Ryan, Cassie, Allegra, Hana, Halle, and Noa,) I saw mom’s heart expand as she welcomed them into the world with open arms and abundant love.

2. Gratitude

My mom was a grateful person. For years, maybe decades, I spoke with her at least once a day. Our calls were frequently about how grateful we were for the people we loved and the time spent together. She’d say, “That’s the good stuff!”

She always communicated a profound sense of gratitude for her family, friends, music, art, and the preciousness of time. Even as her dementia worsened and talking wasn’t always a viable way to communicate, she continued to express gratitude and appreciation in so many ways.

3. Mindfulness

For a brief period, when I was about 9 years old, I remember my mom told me that her friends, Jack and Erva Zuckerman, joined the Gurdjieff Society. The group encouraged a philosophy about life that fascinated her. One of the things my mom described was their belief in living mindfully, although I’m not sure they called it that. She gave an example- if you are making your bed, focus on just that one thing- smoothing the sheets, feeling the fabric, appreciating, and being in the moment.

Mom used to experiment with that idea and sometimes talked aloud to share it with me as she practiced mindfully washing the dishes, folding the laundry, or making the bed. I realized how in mom’s later years, she became my mindfulness guru in another way. Her dementia journey was long. Eventually, Mom lost her memory of the past and wasn’t aware of the future. With those changes, she modeled mindfulness and presence. She found joy in the present through playing piano, listening to music, singing, dancing, smiling, being with people who cared about her, exploring the garden, holding hands, feeling the sun on her face, or being playful.

When I was with her, I entered her world wherever she was, and we experienced the moments together. She helped me appreciate the now even more and savor the precious time I had with her.

4. Lifelong Bond

Mom loved telling me my birth story, which she shared often. She was fully awake when I was born, and the nurse handed me to her right away. She said, “You wrapped your tiny hand around my finger and squeezed it tightly.” Then she said, “I know we’ll be friends forever.” And she was right. We were always close.

Towards the end of her life, she hummed but barely talked. During one of my last visits with her before she died, I held her hand and sang her songs that she loved and used to sing to me. She swayed our hands gently to the rhythm of the music. Then suddenly, she squeezed my hand tightly and placed our hands together over her heart.

At the beginning of my life and the end of hers, there were no words. We shared touch, connection, and beautiful moments of love.

Letting go is never easy. Yet, in our letting go, the stories about those we love live on. Have you experienced letting go challenges or loss? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

The whole day was before me. It was my day to sit and write this post. However, instead of focusing next on writing, I felt compelled to delight in spring’s arrival. Outside beckoned me to walk in the warm air, bask in the hot sun, hear the birds chirping, and discover flowers and greenery gracing the landscape with bright spots of color. I also carried with me some ideas that surfaced during my morning mindfulness meditation. It was the combination of the practice, the week’s events, and my pull to be outside, leading me here. 

During Tony Brady’s meditation, he said, “We are doers and fixers and move impatiently from one project to the next.” I had to unpack that one. Doers and fixers? The “doer” struck me. Each day when I wake, I have a goal to do something. I rarely have a don’t-do day. The “fixer” resonated too. I recognize I don’t have to fix or solve everything. However, my tendency is to find solutions for others or myself. It’s how I’m wired.

Moving “impatiently from one project to the next,” I connected less with. I’m pretty darn patient. I like having space within a project to think, appreciate, evaluate, and readjust as I go. I never feel like I’m hurrying to that next thing. I actually don’t like to rush (or run). But Tony made me think about this.

Then he said, “We have lost the gentle art of waiting.” Those words hit me. We are accustomed to fast and instant everything. Do you remember when we used dial-up to access the Internet and how long it took? Now, if we don’t connect in a split second, we are annoyed. How about ordering from Amazon? I’ve ordered items that arrive the next day at standard free shipping. What about our conversations? Do we really listen to the person that’s talking? Or, are we thinking about what we’re going to say next before they finished speaking? 

“We have lost the gentle art of waiting.”

— Tony Brady

Tony’s statement about losing the art of waiting made me think about presence and mindfulness. Being here now. Focus on where I am and what’s happening around me. Don’t fast-forward to the next thing on my list.  It was with those thoughts that I approached this glorious spring day. Yes. I eventually wrote this post, as you can see. But before I wrote, I used most of the day for embracing spring. This included:

• Taking two walks- one by myself and the other with my husband.

• Enjoying a conversation with an adorable three-year-old kid who was happily sloshing around in a mud puddle.

• Watching geese waddle into the river and then glide along the water.

• Eating leisurely my brightly-colored salad as I sat in our greenhouse.

• Shooting photos of flowers, water, trees, and the Croton Picture Tunnel.

• Savoring the super cold Yasso fudge brownie pop as I sat in the hot sun.

• Reflecting on the two bookends of life this week as my great-nephew entered the world and my mom continues to fade.

There is doing and not-doing. There is life and death. There is being present and missing the moment. For this moment, this day, I chose to be here now. I’m also OK to wait and pause. I’m grateful for the arrival of spring, the birth of my great-nephew, being able to hold my mom’s hand, and this day. 

Is next calling you? Are you feeling content with things as they are now? What are your ideas about waiting, patience, and rushing? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

There are times each day that encourages me to pause and notice. These mindful moments prevent me from moving to that next step on my daily to-do list. They remind me that while it’s helpful to be productive and get stuff done, stopping for a gratitude or reflection break is essential too. Have you experienced this?

I have an Anna Quindlen quote displayed on my desk, which says, “I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.” I extend this idea to the quality of my days. The next step often implies taking action that will further our project or goal. That’s essential. However, we can also interpret action to include reflecting, appreciating and noticing life’s treasures.

What made my next step be a stop and notice?  There were several things I’ll share with you. I’m curious about what you’ve been noticing lately, too.

3 Ways to Embrace Mindfulness

Next Step, Spring

It’s still officially winter, but signs of spring are all around. Some days I’ve gone coatless. And considering that only a few weeks ago, we were knee-deep in snow, and with freezing temperatures, a no-coat day feels pretty darn spectacular. But the spring sign that speaks, “spring is almost here,” more than any other, is when outside of our dining room window, the first purple crocus emerges from the earth. From the time our daughters were little, they were always on the lookout for the first crocus. I remember the joyous sounds of squealing and delight when they’d see it bloom. They’d rush to tell me in excited voices, “Look, look! The first crocus is out!!!” We’d run to the window together to appreciate the change. Then we’d go outside to take a closer look at this beautiful flower.

This past week, the purple crocus appeared. I felt just as excited and hopeful to see it as I have all of these years. I went outside to admire and appreciate its beauty and sign that spring is on its way. Life will once again begin to bloom.

Next Step, Hugs

Has anyone else seen the news articles that have been surfacing lately about how people isolated because of the pandemic are spending money to visit unique farms to hug cows? Yes, cows! This wellness trend of cow hugging or koe knuffelen, which originated in the Netherlands, has made its way to the United States. Apparently, cuddling a cow can increase our oxytocin levels, which is the hormone released in social bonding.

While my husband and I have been together during the pandemic and get to hug each other frequently, we have truly missed being with our children and embracing them. This past weekend, our daughter, Allison, visited us, and before the walking, talking, cooking, or eating, we stopped and hugged. It was the best next step ever! It’s not that I forgot. I was reminded how important and meaningful physical contact is to me. It’s the simple exchange of a hug or holding hands that express love, connection, and appreciation.

“Next can mean mindfully appreciating the moment.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®, CVPO™

Next Step, Inspiration

Walking is part of every day. I love getting outside to move and explore. I tend to be a creature of habit, which extends to my walking routes. I mix it up sometimes, but most frequently choose a path along the Hudson River. When Allison visited us, she wanted to explore another spot in Croton. We ended up at this hidden beach, which my husband and I had only been to one other time. Aside from the gorgeous east river views, the landscape was covered with driftwood, reeds, rocks, and shells in unusual patterns and colors. Visual inspiration was all around as we stopped to capture the images and as I paused to appreciate being together with Steve and Allison.

Your next step doesn’t have to equal accomplishment. Next can mean mindfully appreciating the moment. Was your next step a pause to notice? What has captured your attention recently? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.