People around me have experienced vivid dreams about my mother. I have not. One family member had a dream that she was still here, like normal, but could not speak. Another family member dreamt that she was on vacation with my mother. All dreams were experienced as if they were in real life and present time. I have not had a dream.

I emphasize that I have not had a dream because I am envious. I do believe (I think) in life after death because I am a Christian (I think), so I feel as though my mother should come to me in a dream. Or maybe I just crave that connection with my mother since I no longer have a connection with her on earth. However, I have had nightmares.

Last night I dreamt that I went to call my mother to invite her to something, an important event if you will. In the “dream” I attempted to her call her, but then I realized that she was gone, and I would never be able to contact her or invite her to another special moment in my life again. The pain in my heart seared through me and I almost lost my breath (in the “dream”). I awoke to that same searing pain in my heart, my mind, and my soul. It hurts so much that the nightmare is actually my reality. Sometimes I can’t comprehend not seeing my mom again, and other times the realization comes so quickly it nearly knocks me off of my feet. I miss her. Even though we weren’t best friends, I miss her, and I want her back.

I had another dream that she had never left me, but my father took her place. In “dream” my father had passed away and my mother was still on this earth with me. She was still mentally and physically sick. I begged her to get better because I had already lost my father, but she didn’t, and she never left her bed.

When I first lost my mother I thought I saw her everywhere. I saw a thin woman with bleach blonde hair and I was sure that it was my mother. I would even hold my breath until the mystery ladies would turn around and I could see their face. It was never my mother. I exhaled.

I pray that one day I will be able to have a connection with my mother again, in any way, because I miss her, and I have so much left to say.

Lost in Grief



When my mother passed away my father told me “this is the hardest pill you’ll ever have to swallow.” I knew it was going to be hard to deal with my mothers death, but I didn’t know to what extent. I now know that the amount of pain I feel is indescribable to anyone who has not lost a parent.

For the past five months I have not been grieving for the loss of my mother, but rather what happened to her. I was in the hospital with my mother every day, and I have seen the physical struggle and pain she had to endure. I witnessed how scared she was every time a new doctor came in, or any time something changed, whether good or bad. I had to see her face when she felt defeated, because all she wanted to do was go home.

I had to ask my mother numerous times whether she wanted to live or die, and pray that her answer was life. Like me, my mother suffered from depression, and I was terrified that she didn’t want to live. I got down on my knees and thanked God that, yes, she wanted to keep fighting.

Guilt has overwhelmed me since she was admitted to the hospital. The guilt first came because I didn’t go to the hospital immediately, and she was in there for hours by herself in critical condition. Then guilt came because I didn’t know the right questions to ask the nurses or how I could make sure she was getting the best care possible. Then I felt guilty because I couldn’t save her. I begged God to take away my apartment, my car, and all of my money. I told him I wouldn’t care if I was homeless, I just wanted him to heal her. Not to mention the monstrous amount of guilt I had for our poor relationship in the last 10-15 years. Why couldn’t I just have been a better daughter?

While I still hurt every day because of all of those things, I now mourn for her lack of presence. I have fleeting thoughts of never being able to see my mother again. The pain that I feel when those thoughts are present is too deep to depict. Heart wrenching is far too much of an understatement. It feels more like a piercing of my heart, mind, and soul, while sadness floods my entire body. I will never get to hug my mother, have her tell me she loves me, or even just sit in the same room with her and see her goofy smile. I will never see my mother again. As soon as these thoughts materialize in my mind, I rid them, because even just in a moment, the pain is to great to bear.

During the wake, I was visiting with guests who were attending, and my father walked over to me and said “Go spend time with your mother, this will be the last time you’ll see her.” I look back at those words  and they carry a much heavier weight now than when he spoke them.

My biggest desire now is to see or feel my mothers presence again, whether in a dream or any other way. My mothers favorite prayer was the lords prayer and she taught it me as a child. I now use that prayer a few times a week, hoping that I will feel her praying with me.

Lost In Grief

July 27th, 2015

First, I would like to start by saying that I am not writing this blog for anyone’s entertainment. I am writing this blog to make sense of my life, that is currently in shambles, and for the possibility of my loved ones to understand (just a fraction) the grief that I am currently engulfed in. This may even be a peace offering for my constant isolation that I place myself in because “no one understands.” Realistically, the majority of my friends and family do not understand the amount of pain I face daily. I am a 25 year old woman with no mother. However, most days I find myself feeling like a 5 year old girl looking for her mothers comfort after a terrible nightmare.

On January 27th, 2015 my father, brother, and I had to make the painful decision to take my mother off of life support. Three weeks prior, my brother informed me that my mother was going to the hospital while I was at work. I was mad. I was tired of her not taking care of herself and constantly having to worry about her. I couldn’t keep rushing to her aid and helping her. I chose to stay at work. Hours later I discovered she was in the hospital, by herself, in critical condition. My mother had stopped breathing on her own. I immediately drove to the hospital. Two and a half excruciating weeks (ten of those days with a breathing tube down her throat), my mother was in the ICU. My mother was sedated half the time but she slowly regained her strength, and as a result was transferred to the Recovering Unit. Then, one day, she just gave up. My mothers life was fully dependent on machines and medication. She wasn’t responding to anything. She passed within a few minutes after removing the life support.

July 27th, 2015 marks 6 months of her passing and is also her 59th birthday. My mother did not reach 60 years old. My mother will never see me in a wedding dress nor meet my future children. My mother will never see the first home I purchase and more importantly, she will never tell me to “be careful” when I leave the house again.

I hated those words; “be careful.” Of course I was going to be careful, I’m not an idiot! I also hated her hugs and her neediness just to be my mother. Now, I’d give everything I had to have that again. That’s the thing about losing a loved one though, you can’t bargain your way out of it, and material things won’t bring them back.

I was able to tell my mother how sorry I was for every mean word I had spoken to her, and I had the opportunity to encourage her and love her one last time. It will never be enough. I will always being praying to God to relay to my mother that I am eternally sorry and that she is loved.

Lost in grief.