The Truth About Losing Your Parents In Your 20s.

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At no time wanted to write about grief, not here, not as often as I am. But grief doesn’t run to my schedule, it has an agenda of its own and descends at a whim oblivious to my goings on. Having lost my mother at young age, I experienced and still experience the heartache that a majority of people my age have not. My mom’s fight was long and strenuous.

The thing was that I had an excellent relationship with my mother. However, the pain and longing for just one more hug or one last conversation with my mother is what rings so strongly throughout my being. It does not matter the relationship you have to those you lost; if it is a parent, you love them regardless.

My mother was my everything. I never had a better and more reliable friend. Throughout high school, she was the only person I wanted to stay up talking about stupid high school gossip while drinking tea. I appreciated, this time, more than anything and wish I could just have one more day. I faced a lot of issues once she passed. I felt abandoned and that I could trust no one and frankly still struggle with people coming to my space. I spent much of my time alone. I am slowly on track to building myself again as someone much more independent. I am a work in progress, as most 22-year-olds are.

I should be grateful for what I have, but it’s hard sometimes to see past that envy. Family members and those close enough to you try to compensate, but this is by no means even close to being the same (but thanks so much, everyone I appreciate all that you do). The jealousy of all those who have their parents to celebrate the holidays with is unreal; it kills me to see. I cannot wait to be able to have my own family one day, just to have the opportunity to provide for them what I am deprived of now.

My mother shaped my early life though I wish she was there to see me through my transition into the “real world”. I hope she can see who I am becoming and are proud from wherever she is. She shaped me and showed me that not only do I have to care for my children and love them unconditionally (I learned this from my mom more so than anyone) but also that I have to take care of myself because your health is just as important.

The pain of becoming an orphan of sorts (for lack of a better term) does not become any easier. I know there are some heart-wrenching milestones ahead, like graduating college and getting married without my best friend there to help me along the way. The idea of picking out a wedding suit alone shatters my heart. Friends and family will always try to fill the void, but it never will be enough. Make sure to never take the seemingly stupid time your parents and family bonding experiences for granted, because once it expires, that is all you’ll ever want back. Be grateful if you have loving parents who are still with you because, in the end, they are the only ones you’ve really got.

I had thought that when my mother died, it would be like heartbreak. It would be intense and painful and follow me round with every single breath, dragging behind me like a boulder. Losing a mother is like being on a ship that has lost its ballast and is now at the mercy of the deepest ocean and all it holds within. I bob around without a foundation to bring me back to the same balanced spot each time, a spot I just can’t get right. Instead, I spend my time sideways, upside down, right-side up, sinking to the ocean floor and floating back up, taken on the current to places I have never been. I don’t long for my mother to return. I felt that as deaths go, she had a good one, and it is bound to come to us all, bringing her back would just delay the inevitable. What I miss is Just my mother and me in the room.

 

 

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