It’s been a little more two months since my mother died. I’ve created an altar to her in my living room, but I find myself rushing past it without really seeing it, without actually stopping and looking or feeling its significance. Somehow, I just can’t. I think I’m open to the grief, but so far, in the first weeks of this journey of mother loss, I feel very little. The words, “My mother is dead,” come easily from my lips, but they haven’t reached my heart. They haven’t hit their target. It’s not real to me that she is really gone. Gone forever. Really dead, permanently dead.
When I think about my mother, I mostly feel relief. Relief that she is no longer suffering. Relief that I no longer spend my days worrying that she’ll forget she’s not supposed to walk, and that she’ll fall, that she’ll break her hip again, the same one or the other one. Relief that I no longer have to dread a phone call from Maple House that means racing to the ER, that we won’t have to face all the trauma that entails. Old demented people and the ER do no mix.
I am relieved that I no longer wake imagining my mother miserable and lingering, dying a horrible death in an understaffed nursing home. I’m relieved that she isn’t monopolizing all the space in my brain, that I no longer have to be obsessed with whether I’m making the right decisions or being the best daughter I can possibly be.
Yet whenever I see an old person with a walker or someone over 80 struggling to rise from a chair, I feel an ache. When I walk out of a great movie or a terrible one, I want to tell my mother about it. I miss the annoying immediacy of her critique of every film we ever saw together. She’d start ripping the movie apart the moment the credits started to roll.
But I feel much more distant from her death than I expected. I anticipated more tears, more anguish, and more obsessive thoughts. Mostly what I feel now is exhaustion-a bone-weary tiredness that dogs me. I am told this is what grief looks like, but isn’t grief the way I thought it would be.
A month ago, just four short weeks after my mother died, I had to make the decision whether to teach my classes this fall or take a sabbatical instead. I wasn’t sure whether I could handle stepping back into “being Laura Davis,” the author, the teacher, the mentor, the person who holds the space so others can write. I wasn’t sure I had it in me. But after I wrestled with the decision, I opted for teaching less, but teaching again.
It’s been a good decision. I love my students. I love the communities we create together. I love being moved by their stories and their words. Even in a time of disorientation and confusion, it feels good to still feel connected to my purpose. It’s nice to have a routine and a place to be.
And now, two months after I lost my mother forever, I am planning for the future-a retreat in Scotland next June and one in Vietnam the year after that. It feels good to dream of a time when I will once again travel and teach and take joy in the freedom of adventure. My mother was a traveler. And every time I left for a trip, even at the end when she had lost so much and needed me beside her, she always sent me off with a smile.
So I am starting to envision a future without her. I am imagining how my life might go on without the person who loomed largest no longer beside me. I am not the person I used to be, but a new me is generating inside of me, putting one foot in front of the other-one day, one week, one adventure at a time.
Dear Laura,
I am so sorry for the loss of your mother, as I had been following your posts about her from the time you had to move her out of her home. I posted on your recent post about her passing.
I hope you are gradually finding comfort, and I trust you are having a wonderful time visiting with your kids. I love the Boston area, since I went to med school in New Hampshire.
Take care,
Adrienne
thanks, Adrienne. I did have a good trip to Boston….coming back now into jetlag. And a grief group starting at Hospice this weekend.
Dear Laura,
I related to your blog entry yesterday regarding loss and the passing of your mother. I continue to find such a change requires change in me–subtle and compelling.
I am entering month six following my Mother’s passing.
Warm regards to you on your journey,
Nola
Thanks Nola….I’m sorry about the loss of your mother. How are things six months out?
Thanks for opening up your feelings and all at this tender time, or transitional time. Sending supportive thoughts and love the details about the movie critiques and being sent off to travel with a smile, and about walking by the altar. Take care…
Thanks Lee Xan. I appreciate your kind words.
Thanks for sharing your mourning and adjustment process Laura. I grew to feel close to your mom through your posts, so I miss her, and my mom is 86 and getting weaker… Being a daughter without a parent is on my horizon and so hard to bear imagining. I really appreciate you letting us in on your journey. Sending hugs. Looking forward to seeing you at Esalen in a few months.
And I look forward to seeing you at Esalen, too! I know you’re moving down this road as well…I remember with fondness your wonderful writing about your father.
Anyone else want to join us?
http://lauradavis.flywheelsites.com/how-to-write-about-what-you-cant-remember-a-weekend-retreat/
hey L~
what an amazing process you are going through. thank you for sharing!
after my dad was gone for 7 years i thought one morning that none of the cells that made up my body on that day were inside me anymore. nature just moves us right along. i am glad you are still teaching and traveling. i can’t wait to hear about your next adventure. and i know temme will be watching…and smiling!
love, p
Thanks, Trina. I’ll have to think about that cellular memory thing, but you’re right, it’s in the nature of life to move on…and to keep choosing life.
I’m always happy to see your voice on my site. Sending love…
Laura,
I remember you shared your personal writings in class, writings about your Mom, giving us snippets of your relationship with her over the years. Today as I read this, I remember those writings and get a sense of the full circle. How fortunate you are to have had the gift of time her. Thank you for sharing your heart and your love. That vulnerability allows all of us, your students, to become better writers. Bless you as you travel through grief.
Diane, thanks for your kind and generous words. How lovely to hear from you!
Hi Laura, I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. Grieving is such a strange and complex process, and having just lost my dad and how different it was for me as well, compared to what I thought it would be, I am now convinced that it really is different for everyone. My dad, too, suffered from dementia, so I understand your feelings of relief, both for yourself and for your mom. I think children of parents with dementia go through a steady course of grieving long before the parent dies, so that when death finally comes, while we may not cry a lot or at all, the exhaustion over the loss is overwhelming for a while. One day at a time, and may you come to find comfort in the memories you and your mom shared.
Thanks Miriam for your kind words….
by the time my own beloved mother died, at almost 91, after a precipitous decline and nine months of struggle, I too felt a sense of relief that her pain was finally over and the burden of caregiving had lifted, but, oh, the hole her passing left in the fabric of my life. The loss was compounded by a diagnosis of cancer I received two weeks later. I survived that but the mourning process was delayed and blunted and became an underground river of lava, breaking through to the surface in random fissures of searing grief. It’s been seven years and just now am I able to bear to read the contemporaneous record of that time in the thousand plus emails I sent and received to my brothers and closet family and friends. As part of a migration to a new email, I am archiving those memories, after rereading them all. While some of the emails were almost unbearable to reread, taken as a whole they’d were very comforting, especially the reminder of how supportive my husband and so many friends were and how close my brothers and I grew during that time. You are just setting out on your own journey into the future. You will carry your mother with you always.
Diana, thanks for sharing this….seven years, huh? before you ready to go through the archives? It’s good for me to hear that because I’m nowhere near ready to unpack the experience, to remember anything but her end, and certainly to write about it, which someday (I think) I do want to do. Sending love…thanks for writing in.
Hi Laura, thanks for sharing that, I’m still in the preventing falls, Er’s and blaming myself when she does fall, what I can say is that the desire to feel connected to her loss is obscure. We protect ourselves from the deep hurt, so even though you think you are not processing it you really are. Time, family and the sweet memories of you mom is the only thing that will help to fill the feeling of loss. Your in my prayers.
Hi Diana, You’re in such a difficult phase and unfortunately, things only keep heading toward decline. I hope you enjoy her while you have her. Every day with her is precious (as well as irritating, stressful, worrisome, etc). good luck.
Dear Laura,
What joy and pain come with traveling the journey of life. I have so often shared with grieving families the image of a pebble being dropped into a pond. When we can no longer see a person who has died- their influence on and around us continues to ripple out in rings…lapping against the shore of our hearts and souls. We can’t anticipate when one of those ripples is going to splash us in the face with remembering. All we can do is cry with the pain and laugh with the memories…letting them live beyond our sight in story, memory and love. It’s been eighteen years since my twin sister died- I miss her every day and I celebrate having had her in my life. So many people I meet now don’t even know that I had a twin. When it feels right and appropriate- her life, her love, her story are woven and spun for the world to see and hear. So it will be with your mother. Peace to you Laura.
Look at her beautiful, bright eyes and that loving smile that only one’s child can promote. Yes, it really hasn’t had the time to soak in. We are here to embrace you, Laura, as friends and colleagues, wrapping you in our strength, until the grief subsides, and yours returns.
God bless her soul.
Nancy
I can’t believe it has been since 2011 that my Mom is gone….I miss her so much, it is down right painful…I remember how excited she would get just trying out a new dish, or meeting someone new who she liked, she was a very charming, flirtatious and beautiful woman….
She would give you the shirt off her back, but if she didn’t like you…beware…..!!!
My grieving for her does not by any means imply that ours was an idealistic relationship……on the contrary….at times we couldn’t even be in the same room, yes, our personalities were quite ambiguous, as much as I loved her, I resented her for so many things, none of which I would dare to discuss….however, through it all, she was the closest person to me, who would do absolutely anything , and she did, everything, money, her time, she gave it all, and was there for me at any given time…I feel no one will ever love me as much as she did, and with her passing, a part of me has died along with her. Maybe I have many regrets, or guilt, but no one can ever compare to my MOM!!!!..To you Vera, you lovely lady….
Dear Laura,
My mother in law passed away under hospice care Sept 15 on her 93rd birthday.It was a long arduous decline. Failure to thrive was her demise. My husband was an only child and we were the primary caretakers 600 miles away. You have expressed so many of the emotions I have experienced in the death of my mother 13 years ago and now my husband’s mother. I appreciated your honesty on the toll it took on you as you witnessed your Mom’s life ebb away. The worry and frustrations about decisions to be made and the utter exhaustion of it all. The relief that neither your mother or you yourself must must continue to walk this gravel road. My condolences to you and thank you for sharing your thoughts and emotions which have mirrored so many of mine. God bless you in the New Year.
Suzanne, thanks for coming to my site and for sharing about your mom’s passing. I’m so sorry. For me, it’s been five months and it feels like I am rearranging all my internal furniture. Who am I now that my mother is not in the world? I see her everywhere and nowhere. It’s the strangest thing. I thought I’d feel really sad–but I just feel primordially altered.
Hi Laura,
I just subscribed yesterday. Was astonished to read of your loss in the very first newsletter I’ve read. Other than the book, Courage to Heal, I’ve not read anything of yours.
My Mom died in January, 2014. At first my tears were from my head, seemingly. It has only been within the past few months-passing the anniversary, that I’ve felt real sadness. I think the only wrong way to grieve is to not grieve at all-to “push it away” and “get over it” as our society likes us to do.
I’m working through it. Finally have a competent therapist and am working through complex trauma stuff. Glad to have found your site as writing is something I’m wanting to pursue now.
Hi Jen, welcome to my site and thanks for posting. I’m sorry about your mom. I really understand. I’ve just passed the six month point. And interestingly, my relationship with my mother is very alive now, even with her not here anymore.
Laura,
I only read your blog today about the passing of your beloved mother. You have my condolences.
I always believed when a loved one dies, their journey doesn’t end, but instead develops into a different form of existence. An existence where they can hear and see their beloved ones in life.
If you go to a movie, tell you mother about it. Pretend she is still here and discuss what you thought of the film. Talk to her as if she is still around. I’m sure she gets the message.
Don’t worry about not spending time in front of your shrine. You took the time to signify a loved one with a special spot. It’s the fact that you took the time that means the most and that they are never forgotten.
God bless you.
Dawn
Thanks, Dawn for your kind and generous words.
My Mom died two months ago. She was 84.
I love how people say things like, “Oh well she lived a good life.”
Ah hua.
That’s true but I would have loved a couple more years.
My mom died suddenly, she was there on Friday and went to lunch with me. Sunday morning, my Uncle called and by the late afternoon she was gone.
My mom was in a wheel chair, but loved to shop. She worked in a high end dress shop most of her adult life. You took the girl out of the dress shop but not the dress shop out of the girl. She was a constant critic of my lack of style. It’s not a lack, it’s eccentric.
She fought with me about numerous things, but not one can I remember other than that one.
I was strong and unwavering at her funeral and while we planned, I thought there was something wrong with me. But I remembered I had been emotionally preparing myself for this for years.
None-the-less, mornings are difficult, driving to work I often cry. Holidays really suck. You look at people and think, “Don’t you realize my mother is dead?!? Why hasn’t the world stop turning and the sun exploded?!?”
I wonder if I will ever feel normal again? If I will find joy in life again without feeling like I am betraying her mourning? I worry I will forget her voice and the sound of her laughter or the feel of her skin on my face when she gave me kisses on my cheek and told me how important I was to her?
I often prepared myself for the moment of her death. I prepared myself for the funeral and taking care of my dad through it. I didn’t think about the aftermath without my mom. Right now I think that I am worse off than when she initially died. If that is possible?
I appreciate your writing. Thanks for sharing. It’s nice to know I’m not weird.
Sharon
Sharon, thanks for sharing. Everyone’s grieving process is so different and the loss of our mothers is so huge. I don’t believe there is a “right” way or a right time frame for the process. I am nine months into the loss of my mom and I do feel like in the past month or so I’ve emerged from the underworld of grief and as spring begins on the earth, I too, am feeling like new life is blossoming inside me again. For me the most important part was surrendering to the grief and not fighting the parts of me that just wanted to stop and go inward. For me, it’s been an organic process, and I’m sure it will continue, at some level for the rest of my life. I’m also writing a lot about my mom now, and that really helps.
How are you doing Laura? My mom passed January 31, 2016 and I feel the same as you’ve written here. I came across this site because I was searching for something to explain why I’m not crying like I thought I would. Could it be because I already did lots of crying when she was first diagnosed? Thank you for sharing. I was wondering if something was wrong with me.
Jessica, you may find that you go through lots of phases in your grief. It definitely doesn’t have to look a certain way. I think as long as you’re open to what arises in the moment and you give yourself time to remember and feel and reflect, you can’t do grief wrong.
‘Yet whenever I see an old person with a walker or someone over 80 struggling to rise from a chair, I feel an ache’ – this made me well up :/ – i too feel a pain when i see an older lady tottering along the pavement with her little zimmer frame.. – that will never be my mum? she’ll never get to be that little old lady popping out for my dads paper..
my mum passed away in sept 2015, it’s been a rollercoaster ever since, and i haven’t had time to ‘grieve’ (it’s amazing the way your mind can ‘seperate’ things…)… and now, my life is kind of settling down, i’m really feeling her absence.
I get it. I’m sorry for your loss…and yes, I still have that stab inside when I see someone who reminds me of my mom at the end.
im 14 and my mom told me she had a hole in her lung
When she told me this my whole body died. I knew it was gonna happen but i don’t want to lose her at 14 or at all she is all ways stressed and she is all ways worried.
Tyshaun, I’m so sorry to hear this. I’m so sorry this is happening to you and your mom.
That’s completely understandable. You need support. This is going to be a long, hard journey that will shape your life. My heart is with you.
When I read your post, I thought that I could have written it–it echoes my feelings and thoughts. My mom passed away just a month ago. And I am having a hard time believing she is gone. She was 94 years old. She was such a huge, huge part of my life. She had dementia and has been in a nursing home for the past five years. And the person she used to be was not the person in the nursing home. I felt that I lost her little bits at a time. And my siblings and I have talked about this time for the past five years, knowing it would come sooner or later. So it’s not like it should be a surprise. But Mom was always so healthy. That’s how I remember her. Even at 94, she did not have serious chronic conditions that many people her age do. She had several close calls during the last five years, but she pulled through every time–until now. I know in my head she is gone, but still it doesn’t seem possible. And when people ask how old Mom was, and I tell them, they act as though it is no big deal. But no matter how old your mom is, she is still your mom. I feel as though the world around me keeps on going, but it feels like it has stopped for me–or like I am in limbo–I can’t go backwards but I can’t go forward yet either. Thank you for your post. I’m glad to know I am not alone in some of my feelings and thoughts.
Dear Dianne,
I’m so sorry for the loss of your mother. Regardless of how old she was, one of the most significant relationships in your life is over, well not exactly over, but over in this world. I guess I’m saying that because of how much my mother still lives in me almost three years after her death.
In some ways, I have finally integrated her death, but in other ways, I feel closer to her than I did before. But I’d have to say a relationship continues and my relationship to her continues to evolve.
I miss her and I also feel a deep sense of freedom in my life without her. It’s actually quite complicated!
I wish you the best in your healing journey through grief. I’m glad my words touched you and that you took the time to reach out.
Thank you, Laura!
Hi. I was led to your blog while searching about grief. My sweet mom passed away on May 11, 2017, so, just over a month ago. I cry just about every day. She was 81. I know people think, “Well, she was old, she lived a long life.” Yes, this is true, and my my mom is gone from this world. Forever. I miss her a lot. Thank you for your blog.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I remember feeling so untethered after my mother died–and she was 86 years old. It’s been almost 3 years now and I feel like she lives inside me. I’m at peace with her death, but I still miss her so.
I just typed into google ” i can’t cope my mother is gone” and saw your page its now been one month and i feel so empty sad and so lost i am crying writing this now i cared for my mother the last 3 months of her life in hospital was tough every day i spent with her watching her get more sick and not been able to do anything i lived with her for a long time and it was lovely i had her in my life but now there’s nothing only her pictures to look at her clothes etc are all here my brother lives 2 hours away i have no other family they are all gone.
i need to find a job now as i am living in her house its so hard for me to cope and focus on anything at all .losing my father was tough and this is the same feel so alone in the world yet millions of people are going through the same times as me .
i go to church and pray she’s in heaven and at peace my faith is very special to me .
The picture of your mother is beautiful saying i am sorry always seems never enough when someone dies .
I’m so very sorry for your loss. You whole world has irrevocably changed and yet life is going on all around you as if the bottom didn’t just fall out of the universe. I’m so sorry. Glad you found my post and I hope it was at least a bit of a comfort to you in your time of great jagged loss. I remember how lost I felt in the first months after my mother died. Now, three years later, I’m doing much better. You will, too.
Hello,
I lost my mother January 6, of 2019, it was so hard watching her go down over the past few months especially the last two months.
I kept praying for her to get well but at the same time I was so afraid that she might have a heart attack or a stroke or something another and make it harder on her, but to my knowledge she didn’t. God took her so peacefully, which I am thankful.
I really do miss her, I saw her every single day unless she was out of town at her sisters or something like that which was very seldom but I do look back and I wish there were things that I had did different. I guess everyone feels that way at times like this.
I wish I had talked to her more got to know her better personally, but knowing that she trusted in God makes me feel so much better.
I do really miss her, This is the 2nd month since she passed and when I think about it it seems like she’s been gone so much longer but then when I count the weeks it’s only been eight short weeks.
I remember her as being so weak and fragile and looking at her and thinking I feel so sorry for her, she is solely depending on me and my sister to make all the decisions because she is unable to.
I pray to God and trying my best to get closer to him , knowing that he is the only one that can actually get me through this and I do know that I will see her again one day in heaven.
Now I see the neatness that she had about her she always wanted to clean up the house or put things in their place if she felt well, Now I find myself doing that same thing more so than before.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
Tim
Tim, I’m so sorry for your loss. The whole world shakes when our mothers are no more. It’ll be five years since my mother died this coming summer and I’m still processing the loss. Good luck on your healing journey of grief.
In the spirit of healing,
Laura
Tim, Your memory of your Mom always tidying up her home touched me. My Mom passed away on Aug 6, 2017 at 84 years old. My Mom was the same way, her little home was always neat as a pin. It’s comforting to remember the little, everyday things about about her. I try to honor her by trying to do the same and to hopefully live my life well so that I can leave those comforting thoughts for my children when it becomes my turn to leave this world. These kinds of thoughts are what help me through my grief. I am also afraid that I won’t remember my mom’s voice or her laugh. I wrote all the funny little sayings she had in a journal. Now I just try to focus on making memories with my adult children because I used to mistakenly think I had so much more time with my Mom, but now I truly realize how fast my life is going. Blessings of happy memories to everyone who may be losing or have lost a Mom or Dad.
Hello, I loss my mother Feb. 18, 2019. Your story is exactly how I feel. I couldn’t have explained my feelings any better than what you have. My mother and I were so close. I often wondered what it would be like to live without her. She was 84 when she passed. I still talk to her. I tell her how much I love and miss her. I take care of my dad. It’s heartbreaking to see the pain in his eyes knowing how he shared his whole being with someone for 53 yrs and now they’re gone.
Dear Nicole,
So sorry for your loss. You are on the beginning of a journey of grief. Interestingly, almost five years after my mother’s death, my relationship with her is very much alive. I wish you support and patience with your journey of loss. I’m so sorry.