Seven years ago today my life changed forever. Usually you think these words at the birth of a child but today my thoughts are towards the passing of my mother.
It amazes me that seven years have gone by since that day. There were moments I wasn’t sure I’d continue to breathe. There were moments that I would have gladly stopped my breath than deal with the pain and isolation that I felt from her loss.
It just didn’t seem long enough.
When she first passed my pain was mostly due to losing my identity as a daughter. My mother had been chronically ill so her death was not a suprise really, a bit of a relief to know she was no longer in discomfort, but never the less, to lose such a relationship permanently changes a person.
For years I was privately envious of anyone who had a mother. I know, right? I pretty much hated any mother-daughter moments and steered away from most Mother’s Day activties.
Eventually, I began to see that the worst of it all was simply already over and done with. I would never again be my mother’s daughter in this life. I would never again participate in a relationship with my mom. Never to call her again for advice, never to hug her, to chat with her, or even to fight with her. It was just over.
Now, I don’t mourn for the identify of being a daughter, I mourn instead for memories that will never be created. My mother was able to know two of my four children, however, my heart aches that she never got a chance to meet my two youngest. She would have loved them. They would have loved her. My daughter, who is four, only sees me speak of my mother with a tear in my eye. If she does see me upset she automatically asks, “are you missing your mom?” It’s almost common for her. I wonder how this will shape her idea or future behavior when it comes to death or loss. Will she be more comfortable with mourning a loved one by witnessing my actions or will she somehow twist my pain and not understand how much love is/was behind it all.
And this is where my thoughts typically end. They begin like an eruption and then drift off. Life comes back to me, the drier rings, the kitchen timer goes off, and my daughter jumps up and down to announce the pie is ready. My pain must take yet another back seat to life and time will again move forward as it always does.