• Dana Sayre

I'll see you in another life...


January 4th will be the one-year anniversary of my mom’s passing. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago. My therapist advised me not to give this day “power”. To get out of bed, honor her and be part of the world that day. I’ll do my best.


PTSD is part of my grief. Remembering the two weeks in the hospital. Sleepless nights, demanding care from nurses, the worst news, grateful to be beside her. Remembering the nine months of anxiety. The fights with my brother. The struggle to balance cancer, work and me. I remember an outpour of emotion, greater than grief- praying for more time.


I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve spent a lot of time in pajamas in front of the tv. I’ve said “no” to social activities, keeping my life simple in a way that feels nurturing. I am completely ok with this break. It’s just a phase. I’m in the hole and I am completely ok there. Don’t worry, it’s just part of the process.



On the eve of 2020, I’m reflecting on the past year.


Last year on New Years Eve, my husband made shrimp cocktail and homemade Chex-mix. Rob, Kate, Uncle Ricky and I, rallied in Mom’s room minutes before midnight. The ball drops, we cheer, and I hear Mom say, “I made it to 2019”. A gift. Another day, another year, this is all a gift. Cheers to more time on this planet in our humanly bodies… Let us not take our time for granted.


My Mom was always spiritual. She never made us go to church but instead encouraged us to explore whatever feels right. When cancer came, I remember her mentioning that the Serenity Prayer would echo in her head at night. Today, it echoes in mine. Courage. Have courage.



2019 was filled. I celebrated a year of marriage, parted ways with corporate America, started a business, taught yoga at my favorite studio, cried a lot, went to therapy, took more walks, took time. I grieved. I am still grieving. 2019 was a challenge. I miss my Mom.


I’ve never been big on resolutions (too much pressure). I typically workout all year long with yoga, running and swimming. Special diets create weird obsessive behaviors, so I don’t change that (anymore). As 2020 approaches, I have decided to just do the best I can. Sometimes that might mean slaying dragons and sometimes that might mean time in bed with Netflix and cats.



As January 4th approaches, the family plans to embrace the day with the courage and strength that my Mom would. Wake up, go for a walk, teach yoga, enjoy a meal out with the family, a round of Tequila shots in her honor. Cheers. We will do the best we can.

My mom taught me how to take a proper tequila shot. She taught me how to dance, to fight back. She taught me to embrace, to breathe, to go after my dreams and then keep going…She instilled in me to always listen to my inner voice. When she was sick, she encouraged me to go to yoga. When I was defeated, she encouraged me to rest. This plan, these lessons, I will take with me into 2020. I love you Mom. I feel you. I feel you.


Losing this big has been a lot to digest. I remember my friend Lyndsay sharing with me that we carry ten generations of DNA from our ancestors in our bodies (or something like that). Either way, it meant that my Mom was in me. I feel that more than ever. The way that I react to things, sometimes my voice, my conversations with God…I feel you.


I’d like to believe that when my Mom passed, a part of her shifted into my soul. That I carry her with me, always. I’d like to believe that I will see you in another life.


Cheers to my tribe, you know who you are. Embrace 2020 with courage, grace and whatever else you’ve got.



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