Losing My Mother: A Journey of Grief

It has been more than a year since I lost my mother, and I am unsure if I have fully processed the loss. It is said that there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, and only after experiencing each can we find “closure.” I have definitely felt some, if not all, of these emotions, and there is one thing I do know for sure: our grief is as individual as we are. There are so many dimensions of grief, and finding what helps us cope personally can be a grueling undertaking. I am focused on trying to push through the awfulness of the last year of her life and zero in on the positive times we shared together, which has been essential to my healing process.

Finding Gratitude in Chaos

After some time, I can see there were bright spots in the journey. There is much to be grateful for; she didn’t suffer from a long illness or serious cognitive issues. Some families deal with aging parents for years. Her problems began in January, and she passed away in December, but until then, she was mostly independent and socially active. However, when she started to decline, it happened quickly, and my sisters and I struggled to keep up with the next steps. Initially, we arranged for family and friends to visit daily, but she soon had a bad fall, and it became clear she needed round-the-clock care. The tasks ahead were daunting, including finding a suitable place, sorting through finances, and cleaning out her home. This proved to be one of the most stressful experiences I have lived through.

Letting Go of Guilt

Years ago, when I asked Mom if she would consider moving to Colorado to live with us, she told me that she didn’t want to leave Kansas. When the time actually came, with her condition being what it was, I knew being her main caregiver would have been too much for me anyway. By then, I was in Arizona, which made it even harder to help. I made trips back to spend time with her over the course of that last year, but I have still spent many months wondering if I did enough. I question if I should have been there more during her final weeks. I wish I could have known exactly when she would go. I don’t think it’s uncommon to feel we are doing our best in the moment but later question our choices, no matter how much we have done. Overcoming guilt has been one of my biggest challenges in dealing with my sadness.

I regret not eulogizing my mom at her memorial. It was such an upsetting time, and frankly, public speaking terrifies me. The weight of loss felt overwhelming, making it difficult to gather my thoughts. But I wish I had shared the things that made her special. Really, though, much of what I might have said was obvious. Mom was loved by many, and she had strong friendships that lasted through many years. She had a loving church family, and the pastor, whom she adored, gave a beautiful sermon, incorporating some personal anecdotes.

Now, with emotions less raw, I can share some memories of her presence during different stages of my life.

Memories of Mom

My very first memory is of Mom when I was three, standing next to her as she hung curtains in our new house. That house held my childhood and many memories of her. Mom was an incredible seamstress. I recall wearing her carefully hand-sewn dresses, which often matched my sisters’. She personally gave each of us haircuts, somehow keeping those bangs perfectly straight. I will never forget her love of Christmas and its true meaning, teaching us to celebrate it to the fullest. Managing five girls (especially through our teenage years) must have been exhausting, but she somehow guided us into adulthood unscathed.

Later, when I had my own family, she was there for every holiday and birthday, loving the times when we all gathered together. She helped me decorate my newly built home, allowing us to spend many weekends together; and during a period when we both worked in downtown Wichita, we would meet for lunch a day or two each week. These seemingly ordinary things we did together I truly appreciate now.

When I became a single mother, she took a bigger part in my boys’ lives, staying with them when I traveled for work. I am grateful they have those special times with her to look back on now. I will always remember our trips to Kansas City, where she loved to shop or sometimes catch a Royals game if they were in town.

She was a talented artist and gifted her family so many of her beautiful paintings.

She wasn’t too happy when I told her I was moving to Colorado, but we had some great times when she would come to visit. Later, when I remarried, I was excited to have her come and join in on the Christmas celebrations with our new blended families.

As the years went on, it became more difficult for her to travel, but I continued to go see her in Wichita. What a great time we had surprising her with a party to celebrate her 80th birthday! In more recent years, as she slowed down, my visits consisted of leisurely dinners out or just sitting and talking in her living room as she knitted. And these quieter times are now cherished, too.

Ebb & Flow

As the months pass, more and more I remember these times before her decline. Memories of her come to me unexpectedly through sights or sounds. Sometimes, I hear her voice in my mind, saying my name. These unexpected memories can bring me joy or comfort, but at other times, I only feel a strong sense of missing her.

I’ve faced losses before—my father, a sister, and a niece—but this loss brings a different kind of unrest. I still forget sometimes, and there is a natural inclination to pick up the phone and call her when something important happens. I want to hear her voice on the other end telling me I did well or that everything will be okay. I think the loss of a mother is one of the most challenging experiences a person can face. Nothing else compares to a mother’s unconditional love, and her absence leaves an irreplaceable void. Grief after this loss is deeply personal and multifaceted. Not everyone experiences five emotions and then moves on. Grief ebbs and flows, and the best we can hope for is that the joy from our memories will eventually outweigh the sadness.