I Still Have So Much to Tell My Mom
Grief is one of those things we think we don’t understand until it happens to us. I lost my mom
on July 30, and I have spent the months since trying to understand how to live without the person
who made me feel the safest. My mom was my best friend, my biggest cheerleader and the
person I wanted to tell everything to. I have two older brothers, and growing up, I often struggled
with friendships and finding where I belonged. No matter how out of place I felt elsewhere, I
always had her. She was my comfort, my inspiration and the person who reminded me that I was
never alone. Everyone’s experience of grief is different, and this is not meant to speak for
everyone who has lost a parent. It is simply my experience of losing the woman I never imagined
having to live without so young.
Losing More Than a Person
For the last year of her life, I helped care for my mom through cancer treatment. Although
watching someone you love become sick is heartbreaking, I eventually came to see caring for her
as one of the greatest privileges of my life. After years of her taking care of me, I felt honoured
to return even a little of that love. In the days before she passed, she was on a ventilator. Even
before that, I could feel that something was changing. Having to watch her slip away and say
goodbye every night, I left the hospital as though it might be the last and that permanently
changed me. Now, I sometimes feel like my body has not caught up with what happened. I still
want to call her to tell her about my day, go home and give her a kiss or bring her one of her
favourite treats. My love for her has not disappeared, but the everyday ways I expressed it have
been taken away. I think that is one of the strangest parts of grief. Your life changes completely,
but your habits and your love do not just disappear with it.
Growing Up Without My Biggest Cheerleader
One thing I never expected was how much I would struggle to understand my role in my family.
I sometimes feel compelled to take over the little things my mom used to do, whether because
someone has asked me to or because I feel like I should. But I am still her daughter. I am still
young, still figuring out my own life and still trying to understand what it means to live without
her. I also struggle with how much I want to share with her. Whether it is an accomplishment at
work, a first date or a particularly difficult day at school, my instinct is still to turn to her. I want
to hear her advice, tell her every detail and know that she is proud of me. Sometimes, the hardest
part is realizing that she will never get to experience those moments with me in the way I always
imagined. At an age when most of my friends cannot imagine losing their moms, I have also
found grief incredibly lonely. My friends have tried to show up for me, and I am grateful for that,
but I understand that it is difficult to know what to say when you cannot imagine someone else’s
experience. Sometimes, I hesitate to bring up my mom because I do not want to make people
uncomfortable. But she is still part of my everyday life, even though she is no longer physically
here.
Learning to Make Room for Grief
For a while, I thought that if I kept myself busy enough with school, work and responsibilities, I
would be okay. Staying busy felt easier than sitting with the emptiness that came whenever I
slowed down. Eventually, I had to recognize that staying busy and actually healing are not
necessarily the same thing. I can accomplish things and still have difficult days. I can laugh with
my friends and still miss her terribly. I can be excited about my future and still feel heartbroken
that she will not be here to see it. I am learning that moving forward does not mean leaving
someone behind. Sometimes, it means allowing yourself to feel the loss instead of constantly
trying to outrun it.
What Showing Up for Someone Grieving Actually Looks Like
People often approach grief with the best intentions. They want to comfort you, offer reassurance
and somehow make something unbearable feel easier. But phrases like “I could never imagine losing my mom,” “she is no longer in pain” or “she is in a better place,” although well- intentioned, can sometimes make the experience feel lonelier.
Sometimes, I do not need someone to remind me that my mom is gone. I need someone to understand that I am still learning how to live with that fact. You do not have to find the perfect words or fix someone’s pain. What helps is
asking what they need instead of assuming.
It is checking in after the first few weeks, when life has returned to normal for everyone else but they are still trying to understand theirs. It is listening when they want to talk about the person they miss, remembering important dates and letting them cry without rushing to make them feel better. Grief does not end when the funeral is over, and it does not follow a timeline. Even when everyone else has returned to their everyday
lives, the person grieving is still learning how to navigate theirs.
That’s the most important time to show up for them. I am still figuring out how to live without my best friend. I wish I could call her one more time, tell her about my day and hear her voice. More than anything, I wish I had
more time. Until then, I am learning that I can carry her with me while continuing to build a life she would be proud of. And if someone you love is grieving, remember that you do not need to understand their loss to show up for them. Sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is ask how to help, sit beside them and let them talk about the person they miss.
Because even when the world keeps moving, they might still need someone willing to sit with them for a while.