If you listen to my podcast, 2 Chit Chat Chicks, you will know that I love a good tip or a trick. I am finding there are some powerful ones that can be employed, even when dealing with grief. These days, I am conversing with Emily more often. I have eased into acceptance that she is gone and also allowed myself to believe that her soul-self is always present, and I can access that part of her, particularly when I am in a non-resisting, peaceful state.

Several weeks ago, I was getting ready to go out for some mundane task – perhaps grocery shopping – donned in my standard these days: a turtleneck, jeans and my Blundstone boots. Since I lived in Korea some 30 years ago and was always complimented when I wore makeup and asked if I were feeling ill when I did not, I have been in the habit of putting on at least a little bit of something to give the impression of glowing vitality. Lately, it’s not been much of a priority, nor have I been getting out and about much. After my final ablutions of brushing my teeth and hair, I glanced at my cosmetics bag and thought, “Nah – why would I bother?” At that moment, I heart-heard (a new word I have just coined) the voice: But mama, you always like to put on make up. It’s fun for you. 

Emily was a girl who eschewed all makeup, except when her cosmetic-loving sister insisted she try out Egyptian eyes or dramatic brows on boring Covid days when all other entertainment options had been exhausted. I acknowledged that it was fun for me to muddle around with makeup, and has been since I was a teenager putting on globs of creamy blue eyeshadow and Bonnie Bell bubble gum scented lipgloss. It’s not like you don’t have time, she joked.

So, in the dimly lit bathroom, I began to moisturise, pat on some foundation, brighten my eyes, dab on a bit of lip gloss. During this meditative regimen, I spoke amiably with my Emily and felt lighthearted. The next time I wondered about applying makeup, there she was, encouraging me to go for it. So we chatted again. These days I’m rather excited to gaze into the mirror  because I know it’s a time we can easily connect. I’ve anchored it as a little tidbit of time to chat with my youngest daughter in a playful, sunny way.

Shortly before my mama died five years ago, I told her she would be on my shoulder so often that I’d probably see her more than I would if we were living down the road from each other, rather than me being halfway across the world in China. She laughed and acknowledged this to be true. My mama is anchored for me in colourful birds that I see all the time and also when I glance at my phone and it comes up with 12:34 or the beginning digits of our old phone number or anything that feels in any way significant. I will just smile and say, “Hi, Mommy!” It gives me such a joy-spasm (another new word!) that it can carry me forward with positive intention and happiness for hours. 

This is my intent for my ongoing relationship with Emily: to find those moments that occur frequently and afford me some space, and use them to commune together. I also desire to have those serendipitous times when Emily is called to mind and I can just say easily and without longing, “Hi, Sweetie,” and I’ll know that she is sitting on my shoulder along with my mama, protecting me, loving me, and being a part of me as well as a meaningful part of my life. Logic is not a part of this anchoring game, rather I’m finding that faith combined with a bit of fun is what is needed for me to go forward with purpose.