Processing My Moms Death, a Year Later
One year ago today I lost my mom unexpectedly. That morning she sent me a text which made it more shocking to my system. It’s normal I guess that a person is breathing until they aren’t. But for some reason the idea of hearing from someone one moment and then to be told hours later they are dead, is very shocking to the system. When my Uncle told me the news I remember just screaming no. Over and over. I’d never found myself having such a volatile emotional outburst. Abi had raced downstairs because she thought I had some type of accident and hurt myself and was in physical pain. It was like I was impulsively rejecting my reality. If I said no loud enough and enough times it couldn’t be true. But of course it doesn’t work that way.
This loss destroyed me mentally and emotionally. From that day until February of the next year I was in and out as far as feeling like myself and feeling like a zombie, emotionally mute. When friends and colleagues made jokes or tried to have sarcastic banter, I felt confused and didn’t even know how to engage. I was riddled with anxiety of bad things happening. I typically feel very confident in weighing risks and I don’t worry about what’s lurking in the shadows of uncertainty. But now I was finding myself afraid of everything that could go wrong, happening.
During that time period my daughter wanted to go to a fair-like event at her school. I took her and my son. She wanted to hang out with her friends while I hung out with my son and I agreed. But each time I could not see her, I panicked. Thinking something might happen to her. Even though this was a safe environment at the school filled with parents and faculty I was scared something bad would happen. Knowing a thing logically but not being able to reconcile said logic with my emotions made me feel crazy.
A year later I am in a much better spot with my mental health. Shortly after losing my mom I confided in a co-worker and he told me that when you lose someone close to you, life is never the same. You have a permanent hole that cannot be filled. While you can’t fill it, you can learn to navigate life around it. Each day I get a little bit better at navigating the wound. What I’ve come to realize is that memories are the only thing left when we lose a loved one. And each time I lose a loved one my mind seems to scan these memories in search of answers, comfort and general reflection. This sort made me realize how impactful each moment is with my own kids.
When I was six or seven I remember my mom tried to start a new tradition where she would look up a funny sounding word in the dictionary and read the definition to me. I only remember doing this twice. One word was grushie and the other was shuttlecock. Either I forgot the other times we did this or she only did it twice. But either way I remember it. For her it was probably some random thing but for whatever reason it stuck with me 30+ years later.
I’ve come to realize that for parents, the random or trivial might be a core memory that sticks with their children. And my takeaway here is that everything I do with my kids matters. It’s not that I had not been intentional with how I spend time with and show up for my kids. It’s more so that I know there are times I am sort of on auto pilot going through the day without thinking twice.
This type of reflection has made me hyper focused on being in the moment. Every ball or frisbee I throw, every water gun fight, every game of Uno..matters. It’s not just passing the time. It’s not just “doing the thing my kid wants to do”. It’s creating an inventory of memories for them to reflect on and enjoy when my own existence ceases.
On social media it’s really common to see people reminiscing about simpler times. Memes about how the 90s were great. Going to Blockbuster and renting a movie or a video game. Playing outside with friends until it gets dark. I think it’s less about the activity and more about the reminder of simpler times. The days where Mom or Dad solved the adult problems and kids mostly had to worry about school and having fun. Times we didn’t have to worry about meeting financial obligations or companies deciding whether or not we are worth their investment as an employee.
So now I tend to parent this way. I don’t take the seemingly trivial and mundane for granted. I aim to bask in every second I spend with them. My primary goal as a parent is that when my kids look back, memories with their Dad bring them a smile and feelings of comfort. I’m agnostic about an afterlife. I’m even more skeptical about an afterlife where people can read blogs from their loved ones. But in the rare chance my thoughts or words can be conveyed somewhere beyond, thank you Mom for leaving me with nice memories to hold onto. I love you and miss you.
