A Cycle of Grief: The Healing Effects of Burrata, Musical Therapy, and finding the Warrior Yogi

November 24, 2019

Note: This entry was supposed to be about one day. It turned into something more-not because I wanted it to, it's where it ended up going. I struggled with publishing it...until I read a piece my daughter wrote for her college publication about grief. She was courageous enough to share what she was struggling with and what she did to help herself, in hopes that perhaps she could help someone going through the same thing. Thank you to my girl for reminding me why I write-to connect.

November 10, 2019

It still amazes me how clueless I am sometimes. (And I know those of you who know me best are thinking, "It really shouldn't Steph.")

Next week at this time I will be in California attending my father's funeral. Something I never got to do for my mom.

It hit me these past few days that in so many ways, I will not just be burying my dad, but my mom too. And suddenly I'm transported to my 30 year old self with a 2 1/2 year son and infant daughter grieving for a mom that I never got to say goodbye to.

I never got to say goodbye to my dad. I barely got to say hello.

I will be meeting people who know me, all about me, knew my mom and dad, their story. Sometimes I feel like I know the least about me, the events that led to me, and the decision made by my mom to not have my dad present in my life. And my dad's decision to honor that even after her untimely death. That's when the spiraling begins. There are so many layers to this story. And the two people who know it best are no longer here. Not only do I have to come to terms with losing my mom on 9/11, and losing my dad months after we had been reunited, the reality is that I will never have questions answered about the story of me. This makes the loss of both parents hurt that much more.

I just don't get it. At all. The last 18 months of my life have been Lifetime Movie worthy. When something extraordinary happens people literally say, "Oh, that needs to go in the movie." 2018 was the second hardest year of my life after 2001. A time for recalibration and discovery. 2019 has proved to be the universe giving me the most unexpected gifts and I have to believe with all of my heart, that the timing of everything has a purpose. Discovering that the narrative I had written in my head about my dad was indeed that, and not what I thought, has given me such perspective about everything in my life, resolved so much uncertainty, such clarity.

Lately, clarity has been nowhere to be found. I want to go on record that I, Ms. Fall Asleep on the Couch by 9:00 was actually out of the house past 10 for two consecutive nights this weekend. On Saturday I wast out until past midnight (I know) listening to live jazz. At a cigar bar. And ordered a French Martini. Me, Indie concert tee, craft beer girl. I love discovering new layers of me.

After another lazy Sunday of diner breakfasts, lots of coffee, and exploring open markets, I headed home. I left the Man's place with a smile on my face after having a great weekend (I got to play the cool college mom and we took the Boy and his girlfriend out to dinner) and within 5 minutes, out of nowhere, that overwhelming sadness sucker punched me.

Welcome back grief. All my uncertainty, all my sadness, back. That's the thing about grief. It hits you when you least expect it. The enormity of my upcoming trip became too much to bear. I knew though I had to feel it. All of it. Avoiding it would be catastrophic. I've learned that. So I did just that. I sat with my discomfort. That wasn't enough. I needed to do something. Something to help me.

The kitchen. I needed the kitchen to be my playground of processing emotions. That meant I had to go to the grocery store.

I learned a couple of things on Sunday. Never go to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's at 6:00 on a Sunday. Ever. Tree hugging Vegans will run you over in their Audis without a second thought to get a close parking space.

And never go when you're feeling off because the holiday nut in you will end up buying things like Fig Blue Cheese Bites and S'Mores Bark. Editorial note: S'Mores Bark is crack:)

Look how happy I am:)

I then began the construction of the Caprese Pasta Pesto Bake. The kitchen counter was covered with basil, penne, pasta, burrata, tomatoes, prosciutto, and basil.

Burrata. Burrata is cheese therapy for the soul. The satisfaction I got when tearing it up was immeasurable.

And then it was the Goddess of Music who intervened and played Sly and the Family Stone . Immediately, I thought of my mom and dad. My mom loved Sly. I have vivid memories of her playing them when I was young. My dad was a musician and loved all music. The funky beat started to fill the house. I started dancing around while chopping basil, spinach, and pressing garlic. And that's when it hit me. It's okay that I will never know the full story of me. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I had a mom who made decisions she felt were best for me out of love and was cool enough to wear mini skirts and blast Santana, Hendrix, and Sly out of her green Firebird.

And I had a dad who though I wasn't with him, always loved me, told people of his "beautiful daughter Stephanie" always knew what was happening in my life and was cool enough to play the drums in multiple bands open for Santana and Sinatra, yes that Sinatra, and could rock a 70's print shirt.

How did I end up not so cool with such cool parents? During the first 5 minutes of breakfast on Sunday, I spilled coffee and dropped hash browns on me. Like the coffee didn't even hit my mouth and there was a trail of ketchup on my Spanx camouflage leggings (um, I need to write a blog on my love for those leggings). Hence, why I always wear black.

Next weekend will be incredibly hard for so many, many reasons. But I'm choosing to focus on the good. I'm going to get to meet my nieces and nephews for the first time. Do you know how long I've been waiting to be an Auntie?? Earlier this week the girl said, "I'm going to get to meet Uncle Vince for the first time!" I had forgotten that she hadn't meant her uncle yet. I'm going to get to know my dad more through stories my family will share. I'm going to get to know this crazy, beautiful family that has welcomed me so unconditionally into their lives. How crazy is this? My dad and stepmom are in CA and were visiting my mom's family. Some of my Garcia family was at the same restaurant and figured out it was him. Next thing I know my phone is exploding with pictures of all of them. My auntie thanked my dad for loving me and taking such good care of me. I am so very aware and thankful for the amazing family I have, old and new.

There's so much I want to ask and say to my mom and dad. I never will have the chance. But I can say thank you. Thank you for loving me the best you could. Thank you for leaving a legacy of love. And thank you for giving me the gift of music. I really hope you're both in a place where you can listen to Sly.

p.s. And I hope you are both ROCKIN the 70's fashion.

Monday, November 11, 2019

It was late when I finished writing this on Sunday and I wanted to read it again before publishing so went to bed.

And I woke up on Monday morning feeling like someone had punched me.

So much for the healing effects of burrata.

And I knew there was a reason why I didn't hit publish. Because 18 years later, I still think I can package up my grief by massaging some cheese, dancing to Everyday People, and everything is going to be all right.

This morning felt different. I was on the verge of tears for most of the morning. Insecurities I've had my entire life started to creep in again. So I did what I knew I had to do.

I went to yoga.

And like my practice always does, it revealed to me the message I knew was within me but just couldn't find.

"Listen to your body. Listen to your heart. Quiet your mind. Be still. You'll know what to do if you just listen and let yourself be. Be still."

So I did. For 60 sweaty minutes I flowed to places I needed to. I left feeling like me again and knowing that my day needed to be just like my practice. I needed to navigate this on my own. Quiet my mind on my own. Regain that inner strength that is at the core of who I am. I needed to feel strong and vulnerable at the same time.

I went shopping and bought a dress for the funeral. I didn't have time to get overwhelmed because I somehow got stuck in a dress (at least Florence and the Machine was playing in the background and I sang along while trying to figure out how to get my arm out). Strong (do you know how hard it was to lift that sucker over my head) and vulnerable (who is dumb enough to get stuck in a dress?) achieved! I was on a roll. I actually ended up buying that dress. It is so Duchess of Sussex. Oh. I have not discussed my obsession with Meghan Markle have I? Another time. But really, how can you not love her?

I'm at a good place right now. I know that the next week will be a roller coaster. I know that I can be both strong and vulnerable. I know that I can do this on my own. I know that I have people in my life so I won't have to. I guess the point of this is know that this journey is not linear but full of climbs, drops, curves, and stillness. And that in one day or even one hour you can hit all of them. It's how you show up for them that will determine the magnitude of the ride.

One year ago I didn't know my dad or that I have this large, extended, loving Mexican family. I do now. I'm going to focus on that. The gifts, the blessings. That's how I've been living my life the past 18 months and it has been so meaningful and full of gratitude. This next week will be no different. I honestly never thought I 'd meet my dad. I have. I'm ready for what I know will be a turbulent ride. I'm ready to meet it with my eyes wide open because if I don't, I might miss the gifts hidden in it.

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

For some reason, I didn't hit publish again last night. Trust me, I am tonight (Editorial note: I didn't.)

3:30 a.m. and I was wide awake. No, no, no. I went to bed full of gratitude and a positive mindset. What happened?

This time I had a plan.

Warrior Yoga.

Warrior yoga is this combination of hot yoga, weights, and cardio intervals done to loud and pulsating music. You leave feeling like.....well, a warrior.

I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours and got to the gym by 5:45.

There I am waiting for my Warrior to come back to me.

And oh did she ever. After a series of truly horrible elevator planks it was time for a cardio interval. My instructor, the same beautiful soul whose words had helped me calibrate just yesterday screamed these words, "It's time to burn some sh*t down people. That's why you're here at 6:00. Let's do it!" I thought, damn straight that's why I'm here. And then this song came on.

And all of a sudden that inner Latina warrior in me (that doesn't really know any Spanish) channeled her inner J Lo and burned the sh*t out of whatever was left of the past few days.

I was sweaty. My glutes hurt. I was back.

And she's been with me all day.

Everything happens for a reason. You know what this song is about? It's an empowerment anthem. And Ode to little brown girls everywhere. It's about being free about your individuality. What's important is what's inside you and fighting for that.

People, this was me. The resemblance is uncanny.

November 24, 2019

Two weeks after starting this..............

Guess what I made for dinner tonight?

The burrata is back. And so am I. It's amazing what 2 weeks, a lot of burrata, a lot of yoga, and a lot of reflection will do. For whatever reason, I couldn't hit publish two weeks ago. It just didn't feel right. And I honestly didn't get it until tonight. I wanted the messiness I was feeling to be gone, done with. It wasn't. I felt like I had failed. I'm the one who has run 3 Boston Marathons and raised over $17,000 for a grief program. How could I, the poster girl for getting your life back together, be so NOT together?

Because being not together sometimes is part of this journey, and it's one I needed to embrace again. What I had forgotten was that when I go through cycles like this, I actually end up being a stronger, better, and more vibrant version of myself. My advice to others; listen to you what need and do it. For me it was a lot of cheese, music, and yoga. Don't be scared to let the people around you know what's going on. Let them in, let them help, and open up. I have to smile because last night I found myself listening to live music again, at the same cigar bar. This time is was a Santana cover band. So, as I sat there with my glass of Pinot listening to the heavy bass and rhythmic drums, I thought of my mom and dad, how much they would have loved listening to the band, and how incredibly lucky I am to live the life that I do, and to live every moment with joy and zest, for the length of our time here is not guaranteed. I thought of this quote by Emily Dickinson, "Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough." Cora and Dennis; this one is for you and yes, I am finally hitting publish.