Maya as a toddler

What I know is that love overcomes grief. It will be 30 years since my daughter Maya was declared brain dead on April 6, 1992. She was only 19 then. This is the year she would have turned 50. How mind blowing is that?

What keeps me going is “love in the trenches,” the kind that demands fortitude and commitment – not the easy breezy romantic ideal.

Weeks before she died, Maya thanked me for always being there for her.

“You never gave up on me, Mom,” she said, “Even when it got so hard.”

Then she squeezed my hand. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I describe this scene in Chapter 14 of my memoir Swimming with Maya.

The Work of Loving

In that moment, I felt the joy that comes when someone we love recognizes the hard work of loving. It cuts both ways – our love for them, their love for us. That’s what I mean by “love in the trenches.” Between mothers and daughters, that acknowledgement is special.

When I remember Maya’s sweet face, I also think of the millions who miss dear faces of their own. In the spring of 2022, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the cruelty of war, the millions of displaced people, the scenes of destruction. Moreover, there’s an ongoing pandemic circling our planet. Plenty to grieve over!

Maya as a teen

Deeper Love, Deeper Grief

Yet I know that with loving attention, support, and time, grief softens. I’m living proof.

As we follow the paths mapped by our losses, we learn that grief is really love. The deeper the love, the deeper the grief.

When I feel my love for Maya, I also feel the energy to move forward.

I feel lucky to have watched her grow, to hear her first words, and watch her first steps.  At six years old, she was a dancing sprite, blond hair glistening in the sun, splashing in the Yuba River on a glorious summer afternoon. Her later self, brash and witty, made jokes at my expense. No one made me laugh like Maya did. And no one was better at pushing my buttons. Our conflicts were fierce, emblematic battles.

Thankfully, we made peace before she left for college. I’m grateful she lived long enough to show herself – and me – where her acting talents might take her. In Swimming with Maya, I write about those final months of her life when she aced her audition at UCLA and earned a place in their theater arts program as a community college transfer student.

A fall from a horse that left her in an irreversible coma happened while she was home on spring break. She left this earth blazing above us like a lightning strike.

Embrace Love

By cosmic coincidence, April is also National Donate Life month. As April 6 approaches, I think about the the ways Maya’s gift affected the lives of the recipients.

Save a life! Become an organ and tissue donor.

They received a second chance at life with a new heart, a new liver, or a new kidney. Maya’s corneas restored sight. And many more people received bone grafts and skin tissue.

Our “gift of life” also made a huge difference for her sister Meghan, for our extended family, and for me. We were able to navigate through grief knowing that a miracle had emerged from a tragedy. I hope you will consider signing a donor card to help save and improve lives. It’s easy to do. Visit the Donate Life America site to register.

More than anything, my message is this: Love overcomes grief. When you feel all the way to the bottom of your grief, love will be waiting. Embrace it!