How I've Dealt with My Mom Being Dead

So, here goes. My mom is dead. Obvious, if you read the title. She has been for 4 years. Again, same if you read.

My mom was taken from me as an adult. I was 20 years old. While some people think, "Well, you're an adult it's not that bad," I think otherwise.

She was ripped apart from me too late for it to make it a sob story. But too, too early. I wasn't prepared for living without her. See, my mom was my best friend. She had the purest heart. She would go out of her way to help anyone and everyone. She hurt a lot, inside and out, yet she always managed to have the biggest smile on her face. I always wondered how she was able to do that, but with the years of adulthood, I've learned that I inherited that trait from her. With strangers telling me I'm always smiling or how nice of a smile I have.

Back to what I was talking about. She was stolen from my life too soon. So after she passed, it was hard for me to keep living, to keep smiling, or moving forward. For months it hurt me to talk about her. To remember her. To think about her. Other times, she was an obsession. There were times where I couldn't stand people touching me or giving me hugs because the pain was too great.

People would try and talk to me and quickly stop because my replies were dry or short. I felt bad for my friends because, even if I've always had a hard time talking about, or expressing my feelings, it was worse after March 29, 2014. That's when my life changed.

That's when she died.

I would say that I used God as my crutch, but to be honest, as much as I wanted to follow my roots and seek Him. I found it hard, being as I blamed Him for letting her die on me. Oddly enough the hardest part of everything was thinking or wondering how my little brother was going to handle life without my mother there.

See, growing up I was very independent. I pushed my father away for reasons I'd rather not explain since they'll take too long. But because of him I also pushed mom away so my brother would feel that affection from somewhere. I didn't have to but I subconsciously did. I realized this as an adult.

So instead I'll tell you what happened.

My friends helped me see that, the guilt I felt for feeling happiness after, was a form of grief. My family wasn't a good option for me talking about my pain because they were grieving and I hated to burden someone with it. But my friends no matter how much I pushed them away they never gave up on me.

They would ask me about how I felt and listened to my broken record of a story about how I felt.

To this day it's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that she's gone. The pain never really goes away. It almost simmers down until something triggers it and suddenly your chest hurts and your crying your heart out while driving and trying not to crash your car.

It's unpredictable. But it's manageable.

The best thing to do is cherish her. Cherish the people in your life that mean something to you. Make memories. Forget that argument, it was dumb. Call your parents, tell them you love them. Never take them for granted because no matter how 'annoying, bad, or unfair' they may seem chances are you'll regret it when they're gone.

And if you're like me where she's not there anymore, then just know everything will be okay.