Bereavement
In these posts, Sam Buti discusses some lessons learned about bereavement, the loss of his mom, and how to better navigate the temporality of life. Most of all, whether the bereaved is you or a loved, there's help...
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The gift of grief
Lessons from Grief: What My Mother’s Death Helped Me Understand About Living Just over two years ago, my mom died. Hard to believe it’s been that long. If you’d like, you can read more about it here. And yet, on the anniversary of her passing, I found myself feeling…good. Though odd, this seemed positive. Acceptance, of course, is the final stage of grief (but grief is neither resolute nor conclusive). Yet for me, acceptance wasn’t just about my mom’s death; it was about my life. Since her passing, I find myself saying more and more: “I’m so happy to be here.” Why this matters: it’s easy to be negative. In fact, it’s…
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Tree of Life: a few lessons on living with death
The tree of life and a dream about death Straddling the ridge of the roof, my dad stretched to cut the top of a dead tree with a saw. I was on the ground, holding the ends of a rope looped around the trunk. Once cut, I was to pull the tree away from the house. This was late February. My mom died the week prior. No longer a tree of life, my dad was afraid that this dead thing might bring the house down. The night before this, I dreamt about a gnarly and squat living tree. In the dream, I dangled from a branch that ran parallel to…
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Through my mother’s eyes: the October Personas Project revisited
Sons and Mothers And here now is a twist to the October Personas Project: it was, in more ways than one, about my mother. Save the few sports, school, or recent photos, my mom was often the one behind the lens, snapping thousands of candid pictures. But pictures weren’t her only medium. My mom was crafty and very good with many things. Professionally, she was a recreational therapist who worked with the developmentally disabled. Personally, she was an exceptional seamstress who made quilts, scarves, and costumes (see the scarecrow image below, a personal favorite). Plus, when she lived in Germany I’m told she began making leather purses and belts. My…
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A few thoughts on the death of a parent
The meaning of life and death of a parent My mother died in February. The simple, clichéd truth is that the death of a parent changes your life. It’s not that everything changes exactly — many things stay the same — but rather that one’s experience of everything is altered. In losing a parent, the buffer between myself and my mortality is thinner. It’s always been thin, I suppose, but my understanding is more pronounced. In my mom’s death, my life is underscored. It will end. It’s hard to state the depth of this meaning. The feelings are much more complicated than a fear of dying (though the fear is…
