I never know exactly when it’s going to hit me, but I know that it’s often when I’m driving. When I’m home, life is so crazy that my mind is protected from the sadness that always lurks just beneath the surface.
Today it happened at the lights at Broadview and Danforth. The first time, however, was on the Bayview Extension – and I was floored. My kids fell asleep in their car seats, and I was alone. My thoughts immediately wandered to my mother, my once-idyllic home in southern New Brunswick, my peach room that I occupied for years, and the remembered feeling of being completely taken care of and nurtured by my parents. That intense longing to go home triggered an onset of tears that caused me to pull over onto the side of the road.
When I lost my mother, I also lost that ability to go home. Toronto and Montreal were where I went to go to school, but they weren’t home. Home was a little town in New Brunswick, walking distance to the U.S. border, where everyone knew everyone. Home was the house that my parents built when we were babies – a house so well-planned that it accommodated our needs perfectly as toddlers and as teenagers. Home was a 90 minute flight away, and knowing that, no matter what time it was, my parents would be standing there waiting for me when I got off the plane.
After I lost my mum, my dad moved here, which is wonderful, but it also meant that our house in New Brunswick was no longer practical. We kept it for 3 years, thinking that it could be a summer home and that we would go there every summer. But, houses need to be lived in, and it soon became apparent that the house was lonely and sad. After it sold, I haven’t been able to go back . The thought of going home to my little town and staying somewhere other than my pretty house just doesn’t work.
So instead, I long for my home. What I miss is not the structure or the town on their own, but the life I had there with my family and all the security and love I gained from being part of that unit. Our family bond is still strong and loving, but often it feels like we’ve lost our leader, our anchor.
My kids now know why I sometimes cry in the car. They ask me if I’m okay and if I miss my Mummy. Often, it will trigger a conversation about where exactly my Mum is which inevitably leads me to changing the subject (the easier alternative to answering their difficult questions). I’m usually able to bounce back to normalcy knowing, however, that it never really goes away.
I’m sorry for your mother Amreen, for your pain…
I haven’t lost a parent so I cannot compare, but I do understand the longing for home. The need to feel “completely taken care of and nurtured by my parents”, the load taken from my shoulders. Could this be growing pains?
I experience the same feelings and usually it hits me too when I am driving. My Mom has been in the hospital for 3 years now with a neurodegeneritive disorder and cannot move or communicate with us but still has all of her mind. My daughter, who is 4, thinks the hospital is Nana’s house. My Mom was definitely the anchor and my heart aches for her. Thank you for sharing your story. It helped me to know that I am not alone.
This makes me want to cry. I just came from a weekend with my parents. I was thinking about how much comfort my mom brings me. Mom=comfort=home. I understand that. I’m so sorry that you live with this underlying pain, loss, absence. ((Warm hugs))…. This was a really special, beautiful post, Am. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful post Amreen.I have the same feelings about my father. Especially in the summer when I am at the cottage, which was his love. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have that structure that was so important to my family and childhood. Friday will be the 12th anniversary of his death and sometimes it feels like yesterday.
beautiful post, Amreen.
i often think about you when i have issues with my mother – and then i think, at least i have my mother to fight with. i cannot even imagine what it must feel like to lose a parent, to lose a mother. i send you hugs upon hugs. i know this took a lot for you to write.
Amreen, what a heart-rending post. I agree, your kids are so very sensitive and understanding. I can only imagine your sadness and nostalgia. Keep writing to help preserve your memories and to share with your children as they get older. Oh, and enjoy the next little while as they will still let you change the subject to avoid the hard questions…it won’t last long!
Amreen – THANK YOU. I know how incredibly difficult this was for you. What a wonderful tribute to your mom and what true insight into you and what you hold dear.
That brought more than a tear to my eye and a big surge to the heart — you have captured a part of the human condition and humanity so eloquently.
Amreen – I completely understand how you feel. Sometimes I’ll be driving and hear particular song or be watching something on TV and I will burst into tears from homesickness for Toronto!!! And the kids always run up and cuddle me and ask me what’s wrong. And yes, it hits really unexpectedly too :((((
You know, my mom died in 1993 and I still can’t believe it – before she got sick, I always thought that no family could love each other more than we did and that cancer “happened” to “other” people, how naive was I?
Your children sound so sweet and sensitive. That was a lovely tribute to your Mum. My parents, for a very long time, felt the same way about going back to their hometown in northern Ontario after my grandparents passed away. A few years ago they returned for a high school reunion and were surprised to find that they didn’t experience the pain and loss they expected to feel, but rather felt a sense of calm and warmth over the wonderful childhoods they had in this small town.
That was very heartfelt and I just wanted to thank you for sharing it. I can only imagine I would feel the same way but I’ve never lived anywhere else but TO.