When You Miss Your Mother (But She is No Longer Around)

While the rest of the world is listening to Ed Sheeran’s entire Divide album, I have been drowning myself in one song - Supermarket Flowers.

 

“Hallelujah, you were an angel in the shape of my mom”

 

Hearing the song did not just let me remember things. It also made me realize how much I still miss my mother. It has been two years already since she left us, but I still have so many questions that I know I will never find the answers to. Some people probably have it figured out but I still have not. Maybe because sometimes, it is easier to just throw stupid questions out in the air than face the answers right in front of us. 

 

How much of your character is taken away from you when your mother dies?

 

I am pretty sure that I am never going to be the same person as I was when my mother was still alive. I am not certain if it is a good thing or a bad thing. Honestly, I do not care. But I want to know how much of my whole being did she take with her and how much is left with me now. I read once that us- the children- were inside our mothers’ tummies only for nine months but in their hearts forever. I think it is true because I felt it. But if she kept me in her heart for so long, what happened when she died? When she left this lonely cruel world, did she take a part of me that she loved the most? And if yes, does that make her happy up there? Does being allowed to take something from the earth- from the people she loved- make dying worth it?

 

I also ask sometimes, how exactly can you move on and live a life with that gaping hole in your chest?

 

They say you cannot really get over a loss of a loved one- that you just get used to it. But do you, really? Do you really just get the hang of not ever talking to the person who witnessed how you achieved your greatest successes and made the most unforgivable mistakes but loved you all the same? Then why do I feel so terrible when something great happens, and I just realize that I can no longer call my mother to tell her about it? I can tell other people, yes. But no one can replace my mother. Her soft and warm words of encouragement and pure adoration. The assurance that she is proud of me no matter what. The hugs and kisses translating that everything is going to be okay- that it only gets better. Even if it really does not.

 

How is it possible to finally accept that you are going to spend the rest of your life without her?

 

It has been a while, but I still find myself tearing up because I hear a particular song, see those scarves she used to cover her head with, wear the bracelet she gave to me, or just remember a random thought that I can connect to her existence. Just why, can't things ever be the same again? I lived past the morning the doctor announced her time of death. I am standing tall now. I am going places and living my dreams. But sometimes, the absence just hits me. It stuns me, and I cannot run away from the stabbing pain in my heart and the uncontrollable tears that streams down my face.

 

Sometimes I feel so sick, and the only person I know that can make me feel better is no longer here.

 

“I know that when God took you back, he said Hallelujah you're home”

 

I find comfort in knowing that she will never feel any pain anymore. Yes. There has been an episode of jealousy. Because I was the one left behind. It is so much easier when we leave first, right? It was such a selfish act- a feeling that I could not avoid. But I know she has forgiven me.  Because she always did.

 

Two years have gone by, and grief remains. I will probably live with it forever. The sudden halts when I hear her favorite songs. The confusion when I thought I smelled her scent. The painful memories of hurting her and taking her for granted. But that is okay, I guess. I can live with it. The huge pile of regrets about all the things that I have and have not done will not be buried. Grief and Regrets- two sad words which are now constant reminders of how much I love her. The proof that I will never forget her.

 

Someday, I will see her again. I know I will see her smiling like how she used to whenever I would come home from work. But someday is not yet today and I have to keep living and dreaming. I may be living with grief, but I can also celebrate for the both of us. Regrets may have knocked me down, but there is still time to become a better person- better than the daughter that she was already proud of.

 

And someday, just like her, I will also be home.

 

 

P.S.:

Ed, this song makes me want to hug and curse you at the same time. Thank you. But also, screw you.

 

 

Note: Also published by Thought Catalog at www.thoughtcatalog.com