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