A heartfelt reflection on grief, loss, and resilience after losing my mom. Explore the emotional journey of healing and hope.
They tell you they are sorry for your loss. What they don’t comprehend isn’t so much of a loss but a hole that digs deeper as time passes. Even if you do not look at the hole, it gets deeper and never fills in. It is formidably difficult to look at that hole. We are expected to move through the stages of grief on our own time, but what is time when forever you can’t see someone again? It isn’t just one goodbye but a goodbye for every day you do not have them in your life. When I was 17, I lost my mom suddenly to a heart attack while I was over two thousand miles from home. I had not seen her since I was just a child and she lost custody of me. I began living with my dad at age eleven and always wondered what my life would have been if I had lived with my mom. Furthermore, I do not think she would have been able to give me a life worth living, as she had her demons of addiction she fought and the past that haunted her from all the pain she had endured.
Often, she would fight in silence and have moments of bliss, only to be reminded that life is finite and her life had mostly been consumed by poverty and anguish. She fought so hard. She was her hero in the end. Just like that, she had been clean for three years and was living a quiet life. She needed to heal finally, and I hope in the end she felt at peace in those moments when she was alone. I am sure it was terrifying for her to experience a sudden death. I think every day she looks down on me and is proud. Not only that, but I hope she sees how far I have come. On my mother’s side of the family, I will be the first to earn a college degree, fighting to end generations of poverty and stunted growth because of the circumstances and woes of life.
One memory sticks out to me when we were going to buy school uniforms downtown. We had not owned a car, and we had to walk everywhere. We went to get uniforms, and I felt so happy that I would be like the other kids for once. The time she bought me a Game Boy for my birthday, even when she had not bought herself anything in years. She planned a birthday party, complete with cake, and made my day special even when I did not have friends to invite, and the kids I did ask did not show up at the party. She always looked at me with such admiration. I was going to be something one day, and I knew she believed it despite fighting the hurt in which she had been locked into the shackles of not finishing high school and working jobs to make ends meet, barely.
She was the mom I dreamed of because no matter what, she had hope and love in her heart. My tattoos are attributed to her strengths, so I can carry the torch of a life worth living and fighting for. Through hope, I have overcome homelessness and my battles in finding my footing in the world. At the end of the month, I will visit her grave, place a bouquet of roses on it, and once again sit down to have a sandwich with her and tell her everything that has been my life since seeing her a year before. She is probably singing in the choir up there if heaven does exist. I know she made it because, despite having hurt others for her pain, she had a heart of pure love that was meant to be shared with the world, with the world taking bits of her every day without replenishing the resources it had depleted.
I think back to all the moments she would take me to the dollar store and let me pick out office supplies. When we had pennies to make dinner, we would visit the dollar store and shop like millionaires, but she fought to get me out of the shelter and into a home where I had my room for the first time. She would show up to my school events and make my costumes. She would comfort me when I felt the world had left me behind, only to find me one day and test my strength. She taught me perseverance, not just for obstacles, but to live authentically, no matter what; be there in the moment with others; and bring brightness in the darkest days. I carry the song she would sing, “Light Your Candle,” by Kathy Tracolli, and sing the tune to remind her that the light will always burn on through the depths of despair when I face them.
She left me with the parting gift that life is precious and that we must care for those around us in the same way we must care for ourselves. She was a gift, even with the burdens she faced. You knew Dina would bring brightness and laughter to the mixer when she came around. She believed in worshipping God like no other and stood by her faith that there must be a higher calling for everyone and that meaning is within us, not the objects we share or own, but the possessions we create through memory. She valued life despite hers being cut short at the age of 41. She would always tell me, “I will be there,” and now that she isn’t, I yearn to meet her again one day, whether in my afterlife or the next one where when I meet her I will share a laugh and say, “How have you been? It’s been a little bit, but I have so much to catch you up on.
Grief comes in waves and moments that we often become consumed by emotions like guilt that we lasted longer, sadness that we can’t hold hands one more time, or singing another song on the radio. When I think of grief, I think of the iceberg. There is merely just a surface, but so much has formed below. Sometimes our ships hit those icebergs, and we fight to bail the water of our tears from the boat, barely floating. Overcoming a loss is a lifelong journey, not a goal. Moving on will never be a goal, but a moment to reach out again and say hello.
Grief is the natural emotional response to a significant loss, most commonly associated with the death of a loved one, but also encompassing other forms of loss like divorce, job loss, or even the loss of a dream. Grief impacts our lives in many ways, such as emotions, behaviors, social interactions, and thoughts. Grief releases cortisol, affecting our immune system and preventing it from efficiently fighting infections and sickness. When my mother passed, I experienced months of colds forming in repetition. I began thinking this would be my life in the future, sickness after sickness. Inflammation increases when we grieve and can affect those with chronic conditions like cardiovascular disease and arthritis.
Digestive issues arise with grief in some individuals, creating uncertainty like poor digestion, loose stools, and frequent heartburn. The best way I have found out after grieving a loss, whether a loved one or a dream, is to eat a whole foods diet and ensure I am getting the proper nutrients through supplements and vegetables mixed with proteins such as beans or tofu. Mainly, I maintain a vegan diet mostly, which helps in many ways, not just for my health but also for my mental clarity. This may be another topic about diets, but it is super important to maintain a healthy and balanced diet to overcome life and struggles.
When we cry, we feel exhausted. Grief is like no other. It can cause depressive features like prolonged fatigue and even sleep disturbances. When my mother passed, I experienced severe depression. After a few months I was hospitalized at one point, ensuring I could begin my path to recovery. I experienced nightmares of me in her situation, or a moment where I could have had a heart attack. I am glad those fears were only in my dreams and I didn’t experience a heart attack. It can still feel terrifying and real. As a child, I would sleep in my parents’ bed when I got scared and always felt safe. It created an environment that was welcoming and warm to exist and seek shelter with the people entrusted to protect me. My childhood life often could be experienced with instability in many ways, such as housing, domestic violence, and addiction. I picked up quite a few unhealthy ways to cope and have committed to a journey of unlearning those strategies and working through them in the best way possible.
Processing emotions is the most essential part of feeling. When we lose something, we experience a range of emotions, like confusion, sadness, and guilt. When my mother passed, I experienced confusion around her death and uncertainty about life. I could not ask all the questions I needed about developing or learning to handle difficult conversations. Everything seemed hard to navigate. My father was physically present, but never really comprehended his feelings, or maybe it was just avoidance on his part. I did not have the skills; their responsibility was to teach me. My parents have not set me up in ways I needed, and I experienced anger that my mom left me behind to get through this alone. My father never empathized and would blame me for my emotions as if they had been a bad thing to experience. Children experience emotions in ways that can seem very complex. Without processing and understanding how to move through them, it creates a future of anxiety and fears that are untold. Life will unravel one day, and those emotions lead people to react in extreme ways, resorting to substances or overcompensating for all the qualities we feel are our weaknesses.
Sadness is never easy to cope with and can dampen the world around you. Letting sadness go unchecked may lead to bouts of depression or worse, suicide. I experience sadness when I think of my mother’s passing. I am not confident that it will ever go away in any aspect. Has there ever been a moment in your life when you felt sadness? How did you overcome it? What were the circumstances that created this emotion? In all aspects, sadness can be overcome. It takes a community of those who care about you to work through these difficult emotions. It may not be easy, and for many, it is daunting, but the outcome will benefit you and your loved ones. Sharing your sadness with others may help those who feel alone. Sorrow and loneliness often go hand in hand with one another as the stigma around sharing depressive feelings creates pressure for those to get over it, especially for people who do not have a strong support system. Growing up during this time, I did not have a powerful support system to lean on, and I resorted to self-mutilation in the form of cutting to get through and feel something other than what I was feeling. It is never the right way, and I am glad I overcame that before the outcome was too drastic. For sadness you may feel. I hope you overcome it and have others to share with in your community. Hang in there.
Shock is also standard when experiencing a sudden loss. I remember when I got the news of my mom’s passing, I didn’t at first hear everything. I remember my father on the phone delivering the news, and that was about it. I then went about my day, as I was currently in training for the military, and a Red Cross message is never a good thing in hindsight. I am no longer in the military, but I had peers who supported me in those moments. I went to have a meal, and all of a sudden, within seconds, I lost all control of my emotions and began sobbing. There must have been over a hundred people around, which did not matter to me. Tears rushed down my face, and I could not gather myself to eat the meal in front of me. I loved mashed potatoes and could not muster the strength to take a bite.
I walked back to the barracks and sat there for a while on the bleachers and repeated to myself, “She’s dead.” The last thing I told my mom when she was alive was calling her a piece of shit. Expressing this was out of anger, and I lived with the guilt for many years. I had a lot of anger toward my mother for not fighting harder to give me the life I needed when she was going through active addiction or even fighting to keep custody of me. I was just a child, and up until those moments of her addiction getting worse, I experienced love, but that left when the drugs were introduced to her. She had become a different person.
I hold on to the positive aspects, but guilt is a forceful feeling that creates immense amounts of emotions. I had to reflect on myself in those moments and try to gather what strength I could dig from within. I shared with my peers around, and the news circulated on what happened. I could see how others looked. They looked at me as if they pitied me, not so much offering condolences as looking for support through the emotions I could see in their eyes. While so many people supported me, I felt guilty and alone.
I flew home the next day for the funeral, and at the time I was dating a boy named Tom. His mother, sister-in-law, and he accompanied me to the funeral. It was the first time I had seen my sister in years. She planned the whole funeral and, of course, asked for financial support. I was only 17. I had no financial assets and guilted my brother and me. I had a rocky relationship with my brother, and for a period of time my mother had custody over him as well. The funeral was a blur. I remember looking at my mother, whom I had not seen in years, and recognizing the damage drugs had done to her. She looked nothing like the mother I knew. I thought for a moment, “This cannot be happening; that is not my mother.” I thought I had been at another family member’s funeral, but it was, in fact, my mother. I carry my mother with my brother at the front of her casket to the hearse. After the cemetery, all the family went to the diner. I experienced shock, and nothing jogged my memory of what happened.
After all of this, we went to the diner my family went to after church on Sundays. We can call it the golden nugget for now. I distinctly remember my boyfriend’s family commenting and looking down on the establishment. I felt lower in class than they did. I had experienced restaurants with them before and always could see the privilege. The diner was our family’s happy place for two hours every week. It was fine dining, according to me. The place had changed, though. The exterior had been weathered, and when you walked in, nothing changed. Memories began flowing about the times I shared with family there, and I started remembering my grandmother, whom I had lost not too long before this. I used to play on the gaming machines or try to get a bouncy ball for only 25 cents from one of the vending machines.
After all of this, I began making my way home. I spent a few days with my boyfriend, and the rest is a blur. I headed back to Oklahoma for Fort Sill and finished my training. The months following, I began growing more and more depressed, and this is when I was hospitalized and placed on Zoloft. I came to find out Zoloft is not a good match for me. The feelings of grief have never left me, and with the anniversary of her passing coming along, with all of this in mind, I look back and notice it was not just one goodbye but a forever, everyday goodbye.