Life Without My Mom

I am able to see the good things in my life that still remain. I am not that far gone, my friends.

I have my daughter, I treasure her every moment of the day.

I made the right choice and was then presented with the gift of my boyfriend, who brings me sunshine, kindness and love…things that I have never had in a romantic relationship before.

I have a handful of loyal friends who haven’t abandoned me in my time of intense sadness. I look up to the heavens and am thankful for their faithful presence in my life.

I’ve felt the touch of God upon my bowed, sorrowful head and have found my faith in Him again, after so many years of traveling on the wrong path filled with evil men and wicked deeds that I readily tolerated.

My life without my mom, it’s something that I always knew would come. When I was younger, the thought would creep into my mind, mostly at bedtime, that one day she would be gone.

The years passed as they do, she turned 60…65…70. I’d roll over and shut my eyes so tightly, until the idea melted away and then I would sleep well in the knowing that in the morning, she would call me like she always did.

Why do I try so hard to pretend that I’m okay when in reality, I am so full of heartache?

My life without my mom, it’s a lonely vista of unspoken emotions, filled with my regrets and my deep desire to hold her again with every cell in my body.

My grief is unbearable.

With What Lumber We Have

If it wasn’t for my beautiful, smart, kind and sensitive daughter, I’m sincerely not sure how I’d find my strength to continue shuffling down this painful path right now. I love her with every fiber of my being and we’re actually closer now since my mom died (first time I’ve typed that word.)

I don’t mean to say that she’s my only reason for living. That puts way too much pressure on her, of course. But she is my main purpose at the moment. She needs her own mother to help her through losing her beloved grandmother. That’s my job. They were extremely close and my dear B is heartbroken and grieving, too.

My own emotions are all over the map. The dull ache and relief I initially felt is starting to subside, replaced with a hollowness and intense pain that seems to be crushing my heart into a bloody pulp.

I have other family, but besides my one cousin who reached out to me, I am flying solo on this journey. My younger brother just doesn’t discuss his feelings and I’m used to that. The two of us are so different, like night and day.

Some families are close and stick together, but mine mostly keep their distance. I’ve somewhat accepted this, but I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t make me very sad.

I guess we rebuild with what lumber we have and shit.

My boyfriend has been fucking amazing through all of this. I call him my sunshine because he brightens my days with his positivity and love. He also has little family to lean on during times of sadness, so he’s able to empathize with me. I’m so grateful that he’s in my life. He makes all of the bullshit that I’ve dealt with over the years worth it.

She read my blog sometimes. That’s why I never wrote in detail that my mom was so ill. I didn’t want her to be upset with me, although she had stopped reading the last few months as her health declined.

But, there have been some happy moments on and off since May 20th. I’ll share some of them with you guys.

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Steven and I recreating our first date on June 3rd.

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My dog Maya coming back from her bath at PetValue. (That’s my daughter driving.)

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Me after trying on some new make-up my daughter gave me. (Photo taken by my boyfriend.)

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Steven at Edgewater Beach last Saturday, right before it started pouring.

I know that my mom would want me to live my life to the fullest, so these photos would make her smile.

But I’m so lost without her.

Training Wheels

trainingwheels

The wound is the place where the light enters you. – Rumi

We honor the dead more by choosing to live well. – Dr. Laura

Grief needs to be heard. – Random SourcesĀ 


I’m finding it difficult to cry. The tears start to form and I personally get a slight tickling sensation in my nose, but then nothing but wet eyelashes.

I have no more tears left, I guess. For now, anyway.

I’ve dreaded her death for an extremely long time, but strangely enough, I’m holding up better than I thought I would.

For now, anyway.

I was dealing with something called anticipatory grief. For the past 4 or 5 years, I witnessed her slowly becoming more ill. She’d been isolating herself and began pulling away from the people who loved her.

She had felt useless and nothing that anyone ever said to the contrary changed her mind on that subject. It breaks my heart knowing how much she suffered emotionally, as well as physically. She wasn’t able to see how we all loved her, just as she was.

I know she’d been angry and depressed. Although she had some hope right up until the end, it was dimmed much of the time. She started to lose interest in what was happening to other people and started to distance herself due to her continuous, intense stomach pain.

I started to look for other ways to soothe myself when I became distraught and in need of her care, instead of calling her to complain, seeking comfort from my mommy like I had always done in the past.

It was akin to taking the training wheels off of my childhood bike.

Was it an unintentional blessing?

My grief and sense of loss is tremendous, yet the relief that came 3 weeks ago when she passed away still remains.

She endured so much suffering. Watching her struggling so bravely to be well again, to never succeed in that goal and the sheer misery of her day to day life makes me grateful that she’s no longer here to be plagued by a body that could no longer contain her shimmering light.


Mom,

I will try so hard to allow the light to enter through my wound of losing you.

I will attempt to honor you by living as well as I can.

I will try to not stay too quiet about my immense grief.

With all of my love,

Merry