Last week, I lost my mother. I have had the most difficult time in the last week in focusing and trying to get through my day.
Many of the “condolences” were in the form of a personal story about when and how well-meaning sympathizers’ own mothers died. A horrible car crash? Yep. A long, painful illness? Check. Died while giving birth? Sure. And just in case anyone was wondering, no one who provided their own personal story had gotten over the loss of their mother, regardless of how many years have passed. A family friend told me, “When you lose your mother, you also lose your childhood.” This was after she told me the story of her own mother dying, as well as her brother — who also died tragically, well before his time. Written condolences were not much better. I received a sympathy card in the mail from a friend: “I know your mom has been sick and you were expecting her death… this is a sad void.” That didn’t really give me a lot of comfort, especially when I read the words “death” and “void” in the same sentence. Some people just want you to “move on, already!” A friend emailed me just hours after my mom died: “So sorry to hear. Let’s go out for a drink soon. Really?
It’s ok to feel the pain. It is okay to allow yourself to feel the pain of the loss of your mother. I think working is my best medicine now. Taking photos is like documenting time and events of a family or person. I know this pain will past. I know I will be there to help someone else through this stage of life and I know I am a stronger person than I ever thought I was.
Blessings to my mother,
- a rose for my mother
