What I Would Tell My Younger Self About Life Without A Mom
I'm 32, here's what I would tell little me about grieving and living
I hated growing up without my mom, especially in the springtime. April and May made me dread the inevitable conversations at the HS dismissal bell that involved questions like, “So, what are you getting your mom for Mother’s Day?”
I wish I had the guts to say, “A card that I’m taping on her tombstone,” but apparently my dead mom dry humor didn’t unveil itself until my early twenties.
But, I digress. Growing up without my mom is hard and I know others can relate when thinking of their own loss. I want to find ways to make it less lonely for those who understand the pain personally.
I pulled together a few things I would tell my younger self who was just starting on her grief journey.
You will feel strange when mother-daughter moments pop up. Some events will be marketed as “mother-daughter,” others will just feel like they are because that’s all you see there, like shopping for bras or brunch on Mother’s Day weekend. You will feel strange and you will call it grief, longing, or jealousy.
There is no replacement for your mom, but others can gift you mom vibes. It’s taken me years to feel comfortable accepting motherly energy from other women in my life, but I’m all the better for it when I do.
You will be angry at times for what she’s missing or for what you’re missing because she’s not here. In the lead up to major milestones, I’m never sure which one hurts more: her not being here or that I’m once again without a mom at such a pivotal moment.
Your grief will look and feel different depending on the circumstances. Over the past two decades, I’ve learned that grief expands and contracts depending on the moment of life you’re in. Let it. Get to know it. Find ways to live through it.
You aren’t broken just because others don’t understand you. There will be people you meet or date who won’t understand grief, so they will make it a ‘you’ problem. They may make you feel like you’re wrong, broken, or dwelling. You’re not. You’re learning to live alongside grief and looking good doing it.
Things don’t happen for a reason, but you are stronger because of the things that happened. Your strength, character, and determination were strengthened by your life’s circumstances. Sure you would trade them in an instant for your mom, but since you can’t, you should feel proud of who you’ve become as a result.
Life will feel good again. Your life isn’t grief and grief isn’t your whole life. Along the way you’ll start to notice all the new aspects of your life that make you smile and encourage you.
You will smile again when you talk about your mom. It may take a few beats before you smile when talking about your mom, but it can happen and eventually will. You don’t have to be sad to be grieving. Releasing that limiting belief allowed me to be grieving and really happy at the same time.
I know that weekends like this one can feel especially fraught with “my mom is dead, now what?” energy. I am sending love to anyone who is feeling overwhelmed.
Here are a few suggestions if you want to feel like others ‘get’ your grief:
The Life List (Netflix) - This movie will wreck you in the best way
Promise Me Sunshine by Cara Bastone - This was a griefy read, but it’s also a romance, so there’s a happily ever after guaranteed
Andrew Garfield on Anderson Cooper’s podcast - I return to this podcast anytime I want someone to re-explain grief to me in a way that feels like a hug
My goal is to keep this newsletter free and open to anyone with big feelings for as long as possible. Your support can help me make that possible.