Natalie’s Story
To those who have just lost their mother: I am sorry.
I know that this is an incredibly hard and difficult time for you. It might feel like you are numb or electric, or both. You may find you can’t eat, and can’t sleep, or are doing too much of both. You may feel wrecked with despair and sadness, or guilt, or relief. You may feel completely uprooted. I would say this is completely normal. Everything seems off - your schedule, routines and rhythms.
Losing my mother over twenty years ago, I’ve learned a few things on this winding road. Here are five that I hope can bring comfort as you mourn the death of your mother.
Expect the first few months to be rough. Sorrow makes you feel completely out of sorts. You will likely be processing a whole range of emotions: shock, sadness, anger, despair, depending on the relationship. Those feelings are real. However you can, be with them. If you need to cry, do so. If you need to scream, I recommend it. Holding space for you, and others, to feel their feelings is a powerful act. These feelings need attention; they will fill your corners. They will eventually ebb, but in the beginning, these feelings are sharp and acute. It can feel like a pointy, prickly place. The missing can feel overwhelming, Deep breaths are encouraged.
Take time. I did what was best for me: I stepped away from work in a big way. While that’s not always possible, find ways to be away in your mind. Take work leave. Take days off. Find space. Step away from parenting responsibilities. You are allowed to. You might not have energy for daily life, and that’s perfectly ok. You can also be alone, if you need to. Your mother’s death will change and transform your DNA. Holidays will be hard. There will be a reentry period, a transition into more “normal” (whatever that means) life, and it could be rocky, but you will work through this period in your own way. Your grief road will look like no one else's.
Receive help. Whether it’s a casserole, or a gift card, people will offer their support in myriad ways. Even if you think you won’t need it, it’s nice to know it’s there. Some will send flowers, or cards. Others will just sit with you. Having people show up for you is love. They are thinking about you and will let you know, which will surprise you. They will show you a depth of love and the many layers of this connected life. In addition, if you find yourself needing professional support from a licensed therapist, that is highly encouraged.
Friends won’t know what to say, and perhaps your kids won’t either. Some people will say the weirdest things; they might be clumsy with their words. And some will share wisdom you never imagined. Know what they’re all trying to say is “I love you,” and are showing up in whatever way they can.
Sometimes, you might just want to sit and be with friends, and not talk about anything. My early grief preferred listening to my friends talk about their lives. I got unstuck by hearing about my friends’ lives, seeing their vitality, seeing how the world carried on. It was hard at first, but it nudged me in a new direction. Their zest made me focus on small moments in my life that brought joy and peace. Finding beauty in my day helped me to harness the energy to live more fully.
Life is an exquisite mess. I say this with confidence. Grief, like anything in life, is beautiful, messy, alive, and non-linear. The more we understand about death the deeper we understand life. And ourselves. This is a time for reflection and observation. Your grief will allow you to deeply examine your relationships to find clarity and new truths. It will show you a new way to exist.
You will miss your mother: her smile, her support, even her annoying habits. You will feel like you’re in a generational grief sandwich, between you, your mom, and, perhaps, your children. There will be a duality to your days; loss is toggling between past and present. But sharing your mother’s love with others keeps it aflame.
For me, my mother might be missing in my daughter’s lives and mine, but she is definitely part of our family’s conversation. She’s in picture frames scattered throughout our house, and part of our holiday rituals. Honoring your mother's memory continues your collective story. You can find hope in writing the next chapter.
Tell others about the mother you miss. This loss, her love, her legacy will change you; it becomes a new lens to notice what’s around you. Listen for possibilities. It will help you find a path forward.
I wish you peace and strength. Even though you might long to hear the words, “I love you,” again, know that you are loved.
