I lost my mom 3 months ago today. Three months. A quarter of a year without her. I can’t believe it. It still seems so ridiculously impossible. Despite knowing that she’s gone I can’t shake the lifetime of her near me. Sometimes I take out a picture of her and stare into her smiling eyes trying to bring it back, the feeling of her with me. I sometimes feel, even though I know it is impossible, that she has simply been away and that soon she will be coming back. It is not easy to put aside a whole life’s worth of need.
And right there lies the problem, I still need her. I’m not ready to be without her. This week, after selling his home, my dad bought a condo in the city near us. I tried very hard to fill at least a little piece of the void she left but, honestly, it will just never be enough. I know we’ll start to adjust and we’ll even find new ways to cope and we’ll build a different, likely stronger, relationship than we had before but right now I just don’t care. We didn’t ask for this. My dad should be with her, his lifelong love, enjoying their retirement and my sisters and I should have her to turn to.
The other day when I broke down in tears my daughter, hugging me, said “are you ok mom? I’ve never heard you cry so deep”. And that is exactly how it feels. The ache, the loneliness, the longing. It runs so deep. It is a primal need, a child’s love for their mother. Her love has always been my constant. The one sure thing I could depend on.
But now I’m thrust unwillingly into a new life without her. A new journey, a quest for my New Normal. Sometimes it feels too hard, too far away, too unachievable. I will never get there. Other days I can see a light, a flicker of hope but as soon as it comes, that hope turns to dread and I resist. I am not ready for this. I’m not sure I want to “move on”. Because with every step we leave her farther behind and, right now anyway, I just can’t.
So my quest for the New Normal is fraught with doubt and fear. For every step forward I take two back. Back to her.
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Thanks for writing and sharing this Jen. From a different perspective it’s been almost 16 years since I lost my Father and since that time I’ve gone on to build a successful career, marry an incredible woman and become a Father myself to our busy but phenomenal triplets.
Every day I wish he had had the opportunity to meet and enjoy them but every once in a while I see a photo or a mannerism that reminds me of him so I know he’s not far away.
Hope the outpouring of support here helps to soften the void (I’ve never found anything to quite fill it) for you and your entire family. All the best,
Andy
Reading this, and all of your posts about your mom, makes me feel even more deeply about my own mother, who I thankfully still have here even though she is many hundreds of miles away.
But with lots of support from those around you, you’ll be able to find that New Normal and still always carry a piece of her with you in everything you do.
Thank you for continuing to share your story. It’s really meaningful for your readers, too.
Thanks for writing this and these are all such amazing comments. Such validation of what I feel. I don’t think it is possible to move on, not without her. She is coming with me every day. My thoughts of sharing a recipe or a funny story are constantly present with me and I think they always will be, as a reminder of how important she is to me and how she will always be in my heart.
Most of the time the New Normal sucks compared to the Old Normal. In the ON, I was happy, carefree, spoke to my mom four times a day, and still slept in her bed when i went home. In this new regime, I gave birth to three children without her here, I weep uncontrollably at the smallest provocation or thought of her scent, skin or voice. the sadness is always there. however, quickly i realised that to let it take over my life would be bitterly unfair. to my kids. to my husband. to me. to her legacy. she (and your mum too) raised us to be strong, happy, confident people – engaged in life and our families. it is that life lesson that will be bring to surface, just when you think you’re drowning.
Me too. Crying deep. Afraid. Unwilling. Me too.
i haven’t experienced what you experienced but i really don’t think you can move on. with the loss of some friends, grandparents and inlaws i think one more “goes on” not moves on. you just do what you need to, not what someone tell you. big hug to you….
Oh so sad. Sorry Jen. You don’t “move on” I think. You just move. You just exist with this new relationship with her, one that lives in your memories and one that continues as you realize you can even love her more after her death. It has been almost six years since my mom died and one thing I know, I am forever changed. Two months since my dad died and it is the same. Forever changed, loving them, but never moving on. I hate that phrase really as it suggests we stop feeling or crying or missing.