It has been two weeks since we celebrated my mother’s life. Over 30 days since I sat on the bed where I listened to the death rattle coming from my mother’s body, watching for her to make her final exhale. There are moments when it feels like she’s just away in the hospital, or even on vacation. Like she was never sick and the last 10+ years was just a really bad dream. Then, of course, when I order two dinners and fill two pill boxes instead of three, it’s painfully obvious that she is not here anymore and she is not coming back.

Am I grieving right?

Since my mother’s death, people have been asking me how I am doing… “no, really… how are you doing?” I am doing well. I’ve been spending time with friends and taking in some local sites. I hardly ever cry and most days, I’m not particularly sad. Which leads me to ask the question: “Am I grieving right?”

When people ask me how I’m doing, I typically say that I’m “hanging in there” or “taking it one day at a time.” And that’s true, to a degree. But really, what I want to say to people is that I am doing exceptionally well. During the time I cared for my mother, I was unable to care for myself in many ways. My mental and physical health went largely neglected, I didn’t have much of a social life, and I was not always in a position to take on new academic or career opportunities. Now that my caregiving role has shifted to my father and his more minimal needs, for the first time in my adult life, I am taking care of my needs. I am in therapy, I visit with friends, I am pursuing new academic pursuits, and even making travel plans.

Do I miss my mother? Yes. Of course, I do. I miss her laugh, I miss her hugs and her loving touch. I miss her. What I do not miss is the weeks of sleepless nights, the months of delusions and hallucinations, the years of loneliness and isolation.

Leaning into celebration and pursuing joy.

Maybe it appears to some that I am “moving on” rather quickly. That I am not “sad enough.” To that, I say that I have spent more than a decade of my life being incredibly sad watching frontotemporal dementia steal so many parts of my mother from me and cause her unimaginable pain. Also, grief is neither linear nor is it one size fits all. Right now, my grief looks like leaning into celebration and pursuing joy.