5 years without her

five years gone.

five.

the first two to three were rougher than rough. trying to handle this monumental change on top of other monumental changes that occurred in the 11 months prior to my mom’s passing was trying, exhausting, and numbing. i missed so much of my 2nd daughter’s early childhood as a result, and while the mind understands, the heart finds it hard to forgive. there were milestones both daughters’s met without my mom’s cheers or without her words of support. there were moments of getting blind-sided by overwhelming grief like coming across a forgotten hand-written note while looking for something else or opening the closet and suddenly getting a waft of her smell that is still on the scarves i inherited.

having to redefine and reconfigure your life without a loved one as the rest of the world hums along is one of the most challenging experiences many of us will go through.

is today as difficult as it was 4-5 years ago? no. life’s routines and responsibilities, in this way, are a saving grace. my girls were my saving grace. they were a daily reminder that “life goes on.” but the brain still seeks a “How To” book; a timeline of what happens when. we want answers. we want to know what to expect. we want to be prepared. we want to gauge others’s experiences, compare it to ours and determine if we are “on the right track.” someone said to me that i must share my grief so that they will know what exactly to expect and how it will “be.” i am here to emphatically say there is no “How To” book. this is fundamentally why grief is so God damn lonely. your grief will be different from mine. it may take years for one to reach the anger stage. it took me less than 4 weeks. some stay in that stage for a long time. i didn’t. there is no guidebook to say “On Day 46 you will feel like ‘     .’ it all sucks, and the only way is through. 

the only way is through.

it's easy to think the big events will get you: the bday celebrations that won't happen, the holidays, the anniversary of the passing... those aren't easy, per se, but, for me the hardest has been all the little things in between that i always took for granted. the letter in the mail, the phone call, the "just because" packages. i still sometimes check my email in the morning to see if she's written me. 

i recently handed off to my sister some clothes that our mom had sent me for my daughter, and as i showed them, i happened to say "Myti" out loud (which is what we called her). as her name passed my lips, i realized i couldn't remember the last time i said her name out loud. that stung. 

then, a few weeks ago, i went for a walk and found myself at my daughters's school and it hit me that soon it'll be a year since covid shut us down. i stared at the jungle gym bar that my older spent the first 4-5 months of school playing on trying to learn how to flip over. i remembered the day she met me after school excited that she had finally accomplished her goal. seeing her so happy overflowed my heart with joy. i turned it into a teachable moment about how important it was to not give up and not give in to fear when you want to achieve something. i stood there now recognizing that my daughter’s accomplishment was something i could never share with my mom. i started to cry as my grief for my mom became entangled in my grief for this last year with covid, and the crying turned to sobbing as the hole in my heart throbbed wanting nothing more than for my mom to tell me all will be ok. that i will be ok. that i can handle all of *this.* that i'm strong and will survive like i always have.

this is why there's no "How to." what hit me maybe wouldn’t hit someone else. and if it did, maybe it would happen on Day 73 or Day 5,227, respectively. for me it was Day 1,798 and Day 1,800, respectively.

despite the heaviness in my heart, i have done much emotional kneading in the last five years. i’ve always been pretty good at self-analysis, but this time it’s different because it is punctuated by, and driven by, my mother’s loss. i continuously analyze my life and my past, and how it all fits into the road that i wish to carve out for myself. i will share one thing that has become crystal clear. it is so cliché, but, for me, it is so true, and so important that i’m going to say it anyway: my life isn’t driven so much by fear now as it is driven by my desire to accumulate as many moments (memories) as possible that fulfill my soul. i am lucky that prior to my mom’s death, i already had many such memories, but it is now a purpose. often such occasions are spontaneous and i try to seize such experiences when they present themselves. it’s good to have a plan, but it’s even better to be open to flexibility. this has also been, unfortunately, a rather challenging wish to fulfill because not everyone around me feels this way, or even ever understands this. sometimes reaching fulfillment takes effort and to some, the effort isn’t worth the reward. it’s possible “reward” is viewed differently, but i have become all the more convinced that effort is in of itself a “reward.” after much self-reflection, i realized i have spent quite a bit of my life in the last 23 years or so in a passive state because of fear, allowing the trap of don’t-venture-outside-of-your-box to dictate decisions.

work, laundry, paying bills, picking up toys, organizing closets…the list goes on and on…those things are never ending. i’ve done marathon laundry days, i’ve washed mountains of dishes, had marathon cooking days…those help in the short-term, but i know that on my deathbed i won’t be thinking about those never-ending chores. you hear such things over the years, but there’s a difference between hearing and knowing. i still do all of those necessary-to-function chores, but i now view their worth differently which, based on various grief readings i have done, often comes with the territory of losing a loved one, often a parent(s), often your mom.(1)

on February 26, 2016, as my mom transitioned, i stroked her hand and told her to let go, to fly free, that it was OK and that we would miss her, but that i would always remember her and i would talk about her to my girls. i thanked her for everything; for all our times together, for all the experiences we had, for being in my life, and that now it was time for her to be free. not once did i think about all those bills we helped each other pay or whatever fights we had or how she upset me or the ways in which i felt she was being unreasonable. it was the moments and experiences we had together; the overall journey. later, my thoughts fell to wanting to sit down with her just one more time to discuss, or argue, politics, or to discuss religion and spirituality, challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we had, or to talk about mundane things like lesson plans. life’s routine and schedule will always be there. there’s no escaping the societal construct we have created, and there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. but, i no longer want that to be this tunnel vision like it has been for so many years. what’s unfortunate is that covid hit just as i began to awaken to this shift in focus and i’ve been forced to put off some of those bigger moments i seek to have. but, i accept the gift this virus has given and i try to find ways to have constructive time with family especially my girls. i’m silly with them, i dance with them, i play with them, i make art with them, we talk religion or have more difficult conversations like racism and white privilege (yes, you can have those conversations with children!), and i look forward to the many days ahead where we sit down with some wine and some lighted candles, and discuss, or argue, politics, or discuss religion and spirituality, or any challenges and/or any hopes and dreams we have, or to talk about the mundane things whatever they may be at the moment. the only constant is change, and change knows only one direction: forward. 

i want, more than anything else, for my “forward moments” to be filled with many more of my “best moments.” it is how i want to honor my mom, and it is how i want to honor me.

(1) i highly recommend The Orphaned Adult by Alexander Levy