A Healing Journey Through Grief

Standing there.

Like an out of body experience I could tell something was different. Something was very different.

People were standing there. All lined up in rows waiting for their turn at the till.

The sounds of voices were muffled and the movement of hands placing and exchanging item after item, seemed to be blurred by the absence that was weighing heavily.

My head sat on the top of my body like a rag doll, curious about life but no life to give or to express other than a blank gaze glazing over so many people just standing there.

My bobbled head looked down upon my one year old daughter Megan who was sitting in the cart with her little tiny legs dangling and smiling the brightest smile. Wiggling and giggling sounds of silliness as she played with the clinging key chain.

Slowly transferring my gaze back to the stationary bodies and pausing for what seemed to be a reality check. My hand reached for my 8 month growing belly to say hello to the little being inside me.

Eyelids closed and opened,

c l o s e d and o p e n e d.

Trapped in stillness with shallow breathing, the force within felt like a dense black recking ball trying to get out. Repeatedly hitting a stonewall of grief against my rib cage.

My eyes closed and opened once again, placing the pieces together in my head, as the heart wasn’t available to hear the message one more time,

“My Mother is dead. My Mother … is dead.”

The bundle of joy before me and in me, contrasted so painfully with the shock and absence of my first love.

My Mother was no longer the living centre of my world.

And I remember vividly thinking – surely to God, I’m not the only one standing in this pathetic line up … suffocating in silence.

Grief.

Lets just let that word stand alone for a minute.

My Mother, Jacqueline Louise, died of a massive heart attack 23 years ago at the age of 55. I was pregnant with my son Dylan and my daughter was 10 months old. As I was beginning my life in Motherhood, I lost the woman who was the centre of my existence. The person who gave me life. The person who was my first love.

Susan Seitz | 2021 Collection
Up Close & Personal – A healing journey through grief

My initial contemplation for my 2021 Collection was going to focus on my Momma and honour her life through my collection. I turn 55 this year. My Mom was 55 was she died. This year has so much meaning and possibilities to explore in my creative process. I have since then realize that grief as a whole needs to be explored and honoured, not for just myself, but for my community & our world, shining light on the healing properties and to give hope a visual voice.

Give Hope a Visual Voice

What images will I choose to explore grief?

What colours & style of brush work will come through?

Mother Earth will be my muse once again!

It is my hope that through my process of sharing, you might receive permission to shine some light on your heaviness and find comfort that you are not alone. That your pain has meaning and is valid and that together, we can support each other in ways that make sense to you and to me.

Grief is a personal journey and we all live & experience it differently. My grief is ready to do some shifting and as I write and begin to conceptualize my process … I am already seeing the light shine through. Hope is waiting for me. Healing is there too. I wish for us to share this together.

Thank you for being here. You witnessing my stories unfold will be a part of my healing.

I can’t think of a better way to honour my Mother and the blessing to be alive entering into my 55th year.

Sharing love & faith as we step forward in this journey. I know it will be a challenge at times to dive deep – but the light and healing that I will receive will be so worth it.

I can do this.

We, can do this.

Your love & support means so much to me.

Blessings my friends,
Susan