I’m right back there. Thoughts overwhelming my brain. Tears trying to escape. I want to scream. Stomp my feet. Throw hissy fit.
I want my mom back! I WANT MY MOM BACK!
This was the day I brought my mom to my house. I made my bed with her sheets and bedspread, so she’d feel at home. When she asked, “where am I?” I said well who’s bed does it look like you’re in? It felt good when she said “mine.”
I miss her. I long to hear her voice or feel her hand in mine.
I’m struggling with my mom today, well last night too. I’m so mad, frustrated, upset that I didn’t communicate with her before she died just how much she meant to me and how much I loved her. I didn’t tell her how much I was going to miss her. Why didn’t I do that? I KNEW she was dying, how stupid of me not to tell her those things. I’m little bit upset with her for not saying good bye. She knew, she was telling people and giving her things away but she didn’t like stop me and wake me up to what was really happening. I wrote on facebook almost an entire week before she died that she was dying but I didn’t accept it? I know she knew those things, but I so wish I would have told her. It feels some completely weird to have literally watched my mom die and to have not done anything to stop it. Why didn’t we stop it? Because it was what she wanted but holy crap, it so sucks. It’s not what I wanted. I wanted her with me.
When my mother was dying I knew it was happening but I somehow didn’t accept it. So when she died within a couple of weeks I was shocked and unprepared. Not that a person can ever be prepared for the death of a loved one.
My mom was something special to me. Like no other person in the world. I love her like I love no other. We were partners in crime, we were equals, we were like each others halves. She was my better half, smarter, knew how to do so many things so well. I was her better half, patient and kinder. We became a team and we were tight.
Not having my mom around means I don’t have a part of myself around. There is a giant hole in my heart and I don’t even know how to be me. Who am I without my other half, who am I without my mom. My mom was my last adult connection. She kept me stable and I knew as long as I had my mom I would always be safe. Now I’m lost and vulnerable. I am also filled with regret and disappointment.
I lost my mom on April 21, 2017. I literally watched my mother die in my home, in my bed and it was the worst day of my life. It’s been almost 5 months since I lost my mom and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to completely move on. I miss her every day and I miss her more and more as each day passes. I rarely went more than a couple days without talking to her and never more than 3-4 days without seeing her. Each day that passes reminds me how much I miss her. I long to hear her voice, to see her happy face when I walked into her house.
My mom loved me more than any other person ever could. No matter what I did, my mom always loved me and though I was wonderful. I can’t yet even begin to think how I will ever get through the next 30-40 years without her. The sun still shines everyday but it just isn’t as bright or as warm as it once was. Life still goes on, but it feels muted and dull without my mom. I still laugh but it’s empty without my mom.
My mom was a wonderful person, not without faults but wonderful in spite of her faults. I am who I am today because of my mom. I am a lot like my mom and that’s a good thing. Shortly before my mom died I told her that I was a lot like her, she apologized and said “I’m sorry about that.” I told her I wouldn’t want to be like anyone else and I was glad I was like her.
Each and every day I wake up without my mom is like a slow death of my own. I will always miss my mom but possibly someday it won’t hurt as much.
Four months ago, I watched my mom die. I miss her terribly and think of her daily. I have panic attacks when I think of never seeing her again. I see her face in my mind and long to talk to her, to touch her, hug her and laugh with her. Somedays, I go through the motions of living but most days I just exist. Living without my mom is the hardest, most painful thing I’ve ever done. Most of the time it doesn’t seem worth it. I hold on, push forward and think of my children. Please don’t comment if it isn’t helpful. I’m only making this public so everyone truly knows what I’m feeling. When someone dies, everyone shows up, within days people tend to start leaning away. Within weeks almost everyone has disappeared and you’re left alone to suffer. Losing my mom didn’t go away, the pain hasn’t lessened and the hole in my heart continues to grow. The sun still shines without my mom, but like today’s eclipse it’s a weird kind of light, dull, colorless, lacking warmth and not at all bright.
My mom had this plant that a friend had given to her when she had heart surgery. The plant had been struggling the last 6 months or so of my mom’s life. I brought that plant home and I did everything I could to keep it alive but it died, just like my mom. It’s symbolic I did everything I could keep my mom alive and I couldn’t, just like I couldn’t keep that plant alive. The plant given to my mom when my father died I have been able to keep alive for almost 30 years. I’m going to replace my mom’s plant, with something. In her memory..
Do “things” hold meaning for you? Going through my mother’s things, I find so many “things” that hold meaning, have memories attached. I found a pill splitter, who cares about a pill cutter? But both Ashlee and I distinctly remember buying it for her when we brought her to our house after her heart surgery. I came across all her cross stitch stuff and lost my wits. You could almost always count on my mom sitting somewhere (her couch, the hospital, your couch, road trips) doing cross stitch. This piggy bank, I gave to my mom in 1997 when I worked at Hallmark (I was 17 years old). My mom loved him and filled him quite a bit full, someone robbed that money but the piggy stayed. She had planned to fill it and take a trip with it some day, maybe I’ll do the same. Behind her piggy is the purse I bought her for valentine’s day. I haven’t cleaned it out…. These things aren’t THINGS, they are pieces of my mom and they are everywhere. No one really understands the connection she and I had. She was a part of me and I a part of her. Tomorrow I’ll go to a butterfly release to celebrate my mom at Heart’n Home Hospice as the last grief counseling group. Friday will mark three months (13 weeks, 92 days) without my mom. It hasn’t gotten any easier for me, to live without her.