“I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought, and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.”
This quote by Leo Buscaglia was sent to me a few days after my mother passed by a dear friend. Honestly, I received so many thoughts and prayers from those who loved me that it was almost one of those things you are grateful for but don’t really pay attention to.
My mother was a part of my everyday life. She was my everyday life before I became a mother myself. We were inseparable and the best of friends. I feel like it was always that way. The thoughts and feelings of my mother somehow became my own. If she was happy and joyous, so was I. If she was having a bad day, I felt that too. It was almost like we were one.
That may be weird to some, and its not to say we agreed on everything or didn’t have our spats. My mother being a Gemini was very strong willed and opinionated. Generational differences were where we bumped heads the most. Or our taste in men.
I miss those fights. When I found out that my partner and I were expecting a baby, she couldn’t have been a better Glamma! All the typical mom things you would do when your daughter is expecting, she was my main support. Just the best mama. When I gave birth 3 and a half weeks early, she was right there with us. I wouldn’t have thought of anything different. Our minds and hearts are funny that way. It was the first of many milestones as a mom myself, and I am blessed she was there.
As the first year of my son’s life began, I clung to my mother, even more than I had ever in my life before. More time. I just needed more time. I would call for everything, annoyingly, I’m sure. She never let on. I don’t know why, maybe it’s who I was but decisions that seemed daunting or difficult. I would come to her and lay it out, and she would have a solution. I hardly ever made a move without considering her opinion. She was my person.
As a Black single mother with two girls, my mother raised us to be powerful and capable women, loving and joyful! I sure didn’t feel that way before. I needed her; I still need her.
That beautiful warm September morning; the day the world turned upside down. Realizations begin to set in. Milestones, memories of my 1-year-old. That unwavering faith she had and tried to impart on us. Will he know how magical and wondrous she was, she is. Losing your best friend and mother on the same day, no way to prepare. No mater how much time we had.
The disassociation began. Being a single mother myself at that time, there aren’t expendable funds or time/energy to search for grief therapy. I bury it then. The anxiety and fears then creep in, and I start to worry about my own life.
I want to be here for all the triumphs and heartbreaks of his life. I want to know my grandchildren and for them to know me. I have to live, for my son. I spend the first year or so trying not to alienate myself, during a global pandemic. I’m not sure that worked. I don’t know if it worked for any of us. Life goes on.
Life is funny that way. We keep moving and living. My career and love life blossom. The great and major moments that life has to offer are all happening for me. It’s amazing. Yet, there is always something missing, I think. I know.
I still have occasions when I want to call her, go by her home. Those are the hardest. It took me over a year to go back to that quote that my girl sent me. When I did, my heart swelled with that joy that I know she wanted for me. I was able to see past the depression and finally find my way into loving life again.