First Mother's Day Without a Mother
I was asked by the Alliance of Hope for Suicide Survivors Blog to write about being a child who lost their mother for mother's day. Below is a copy of that blog post.
For twenty-nine years, my mother was my closest person (family, friend, enemy, etc), we lived together twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, with no time off for holidays or annoyances.
When she died, on September 4th, 2010...my world crashed down around me.
It's a scary moment, when you sit there in the cold fall morning, and realize you've been left behind to pick up the pieces. When you realize your childhood died when you weren't looking, and suddenly everyone is looking to you for the strength to carry on...it was always something my mother had done for me, and I wasn't ready to take on her mantel.
As May dawns, and with it the eight month of grief and a holiday dedicated to the one person I would trade anything in the world to have back...I've been left to reflect on my Mother's life, her death...and the pieces I'm still trying to fit together.
I've been left with a lot of why's (Why then, why not talk to me, why couldn't I save you, why....too many why's), and a lot of anger that has no cause or reason, but exists simply because she's no longer here for me to get mad at. I deal with a lot of 'If only she had lived...” (where in the end of that sentence is usually selfish and me not wanting to deal with life).
My mother taught me many lessons in life, but with her death, she taught me the most. I couldn't be Peter Pan forever, and as much as I wanted to curl up in a ball and let my grief take me away from life, the world keeps moving on and I had to go with it (often kicking and screaming). I will never have all the answers to everything, despite how many questions I asked (quite a shock for a know-it-all) and that in the end, nothing stays the same, no matter how much we wish it.
I turned thirty, a few months after mom died (something she had taken delight in, as I considered it 'old' and refused to admit it was about to be my true age), her birthday passed (she would have been fifty-six in March), and I've already survived the 'worst' of the holiday's to have without her (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, my birthday and hers). But for each holiday I get through, each moment of the day when I make it through each moment...there are times when I completely break down and sob. Times when I want 'my momma back' to take some of the burden off of me, to be my mom and to take care of things.
When I simply want her arms around me, telling me it will be alright.
Someone once told me the other day, they were surprised how well I was doing, because they had expected the death of my mother to kill me. I never told that person how close they had been to the truth, shortly after my mother died, but life move on after death, and I know (even if it doesn't seem like it) that there is a life after grief.
May 8th will be just another day to me, simply because it has to be. Because right now, I can't celebrate my mother, without the pain. But everyday that I can smile, every day that I can remember her without crying (which are getting to be more and more as the days go on), every moment that I can think of my mom, and thank her for what she gave me both in life, and in her death, I know that those moments are better then any one day, and that in living my life, I am celebrating hers.
No, no mother is perfect...but I got the best one out of the bunch....love ya Mommy.
For twenty-nine years, my mother was my closest person (family, friend, enemy, etc), we lived together twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, with no time off for holidays or annoyances.
When she died, on September 4th, 2010...my world crashed down around me.
It's a scary moment, when you sit there in the cold fall morning, and realize you've been left behind to pick up the pieces. When you realize your childhood died when you weren't looking, and suddenly everyone is looking to you for the strength to carry on...it was always something my mother had done for me, and I wasn't ready to take on her mantel.
As May dawns, and with it the eight month of grief and a holiday dedicated to the one person I would trade anything in the world to have back...I've been left to reflect on my Mother's life, her death...and the pieces I'm still trying to fit together.
I've been left with a lot of why's (Why then, why not talk to me, why couldn't I save you, why....too many why's), and a lot of anger that has no cause or reason, but exists simply because she's no longer here for me to get mad at. I deal with a lot of 'If only she had lived...” (where in the end of that sentence is usually selfish and me not wanting to deal with life).
My mother taught me many lessons in life, but with her death, she taught me the most. I couldn't be Peter Pan forever, and as much as I wanted to curl up in a ball and let my grief take me away from life, the world keeps moving on and I had to go with it (often kicking and screaming). I will never have all the answers to everything, despite how many questions I asked (quite a shock for a know-it-all) and that in the end, nothing stays the same, no matter how much we wish it.
I turned thirty, a few months after mom died (something she had taken delight in, as I considered it 'old' and refused to admit it was about to be my true age), her birthday passed (she would have been fifty-six in March), and I've already survived the 'worst' of the holiday's to have without her (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, my birthday and hers). But for each holiday I get through, each moment of the day when I make it through each moment...there are times when I completely break down and sob. Times when I want 'my momma back' to take some of the burden off of me, to be my mom and to take care of things.
When I simply want her arms around me, telling me it will be alright.
Someone once told me the other day, they were surprised how well I was doing, because they had expected the death of my mother to kill me. I never told that person how close they had been to the truth, shortly after my mother died, but life move on after death, and I know (even if it doesn't seem like it) that there is a life after grief.
May 8th will be just another day to me, simply because it has to be. Because right now, I can't celebrate my mother, without the pain. But everyday that I can smile, every day that I can remember her without crying (which are getting to be more and more as the days go on), every moment that I can think of my mom, and thank her for what she gave me both in life, and in her death, I know that those moments are better then any one day, and that in living my life, I am celebrating hers.
No, no mother is perfect...but I got the best one out of the bunch....love ya Mommy.