Grief, Longing and Hope on Mother’s Day
I wanted to write a letter to my mom this year for Mother’s Day. I planned all the things I wanted to tell her. How much my brother and sister have accomplished and grown. How close my dad and I have gotten. How I fulfilled my promise to travel the world after she passed away.
But I can’t.
I can’t write that letter because I’d also have to tell my mom how hard it’s been since she’s been gone. How sometimes I forget that she’s no longer with us and I pick up the phone to call her only for it to come rushing back. How much I miss her when I’m trying to cook something she used to make for me or when I’m at our favorite store.
It doesn’t seem fair to burden her –– her memory –– with all that pain.
This will be my family’s fourth Mother’s Day without my mom. Three years, four months, two weeks and six days have gone by since cancer took away my mama, my best friend.
I’ve spent a lot of that time pretty angry at people. At my mom for leaving me before I was ready. At her doctors for not fixing her and giving us more time. But mostly at myself.
I was pretty angry that I didn’t take care of her enough while she was sick or that I didn’t catch on sooner that her cancer had come back. I hated myself for pushing her so much in those final weeks, willing her to hang on longer because I couldn’t bare to lose her.
In fact, I’m still pretty mad about it. I’m mad I can’t call her to hear her voice. Mad that she won’t see me get married or become a mom.
Grief is a pretty weird state of being. It isn’t linear and doesn’t follow any sort of pattern. Sometimes it consumes you so much you know if you’ll make it through another day and other times it’s the only thing that keeps you going. Grief coupled with anxiety and depression? Now that’s something I don’t wish on anyone.
I’ve learned to live –– or simply to survive –– without my mom. A monumental task that seemed impossible in the days after her passing. Traveling helped me find my momma in places she’d never been before. I could feel her presence whenever I found myself completely at peace (and also the rare occasion I thought I was in a spot of trouble). Now, when I walk around my neighborhood, I sometimes catch glimpses of her in other people.
My momma was a breath of fresh air, a ray of light on a cloudy day. She was, simply put, the sweetest woman on Earth. My momma was caring and nurturing (even if she did think I was too clingy). She also had a wicked sense of humor and knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. Most of all, my momma was my best friend and I miss her terribly.
I hope my momma is at peace wherever she is. I hope she’s getting the chance to relive the childhood she should have gotten all along with her momma. I also, very selfishly, hope she’s proud of me.