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Browsing Tag: loss
Raising a daughter without your mom… An essay about raising a daughter without your mom. I roamed the streets of Dublin in a haze that shifted from confused to mad to heartbroken with every step. When I saw a small bookstore with signs in the window advertising a going-out-of-business sale, everything only 5 euros, I went inside, leaving my emotions on the street. They didn’t belong in such a sacred space. I found a book smeared in shades of lavender, a color my mom painted our downstairs bathroom. It was called “Love’s Last Gift…
Grieving the loss of my mom It’s been a little over two months since I lost my mom to cancer. Dealing with my mom dying has been the hardest task I’ve ever faced. When I say the words “I lost my mom” out loud, they don’t seem right, because a lost sock can be found again. This isn’t just a missing sock. This is a huge hole in my gut, which will never, ever go away. Losing a parent means you’ve joined a club with people who understand that just walking out the front…
We had prepared for this day, as a family. We knew what was coming. We knew what her wishes were for after. Because, there would be an after – a time when her wishes were all that was left. I held steadfast to the idea that she would outlast the numbers. When she was first diagnosed with stage 3A ovarian cancer, I remember sitting in the cream-colored chair in our living room, my knees pressing into my chest. She was sitting on the couch across the room from me with my dad. “Fifty-five percent,” I said. “If you do…
*Please note this post may contain affiliate links from which I make a small compensation. If you purchase anything from these links, I truly appreciate you supporting this blog! Things do get easier. At least, I tell myself this constantly. Today. Today is EASIER! I shout at myself. Sometimes it sticks. Other times, I squish my eyes close and try to disappear. I have more happy days than sad days now. I really do. But the sad days are heavy. The moments are bold. They outlast my memory of the good sometimes. I can’t help it. I can…
I sit down on the chair at the island, dropping my backpack to the floor beside me. My mom has a newspaper in her hand and we chat about how my day was. She looks down at the paper and then back up at me, her bangs falling into her eyes. “Do you remember JJ?” she asks me. “Of course I do,” I tell her, wondering why she’d ask me a question like that. He was my first real love. He was the first boy I ever said those terrifying words to. I love you. She slides the newspaper…
My mom passed away eight days ago. I was traveling already when she passed. I actually had gotten engaged the day prior, and my dad likes to reassure me that seeing my engagement pictures was the last big smile she produced. She had waited until I left and boarded my plane for Europe, holding on at least that long, telling me, “I’ll do my best,” prior to me leaving, before she took a terrible turn. I knew those words were meant to make me feel okay about leaving. A month before she had told me she promised to hang…
I hear it again and again from friends, kind strangers and even from family sometimes. “At least you know that she is dying, so you have that time with her,” or, “you’re lucky you get this time with her.” I have probably even said these phrases myself over the years to friends who were losing loved ones. But until you go through something like this, you really just don’t understand. So, let’s talk about this for a minute. I totally get that by saying these things, you are trying to be helpful. I’m not trying…
I’m at a loss. I am terrible at comforting people. I’m the girl who asks one of my best friends “how are you?” when her mom just passed away. Who does that? Me, apparently. Because what do you say? What do you say to someone who just watched their world shatter to pieces? Her and I were going through something similar. I prayed we both would keep our moms. I prayed that neither of us would have to lose the person that matters most to us so young, in our mid-twenties. Life is…
