If You’ve Lost Her
We share a bond, you and I, if you’ve lost her. If you have watched your dearest friend leave this world, I stand with you. If you have heard the words, “She’s gone” echo throughout your existence, you are not alone. If you have felt yourself break from top to bottom with the ceasing of that once beating heart beneath your mother’s chest, you are my sister.
I do not know your name. I do not know your story. I do not know the woman you long to hug, the hands you wish to hold, or the voice you pray to hear. I do, however, understand the reaches of your grief, how it spills into every part of who you are and what you do. I know of those sleepless nights and the days you simply breathe through because you don’t know how to live anymore. I know of the gaping hole in your heart you think even strangers can see. And I’m sorry.
I imagine you have people in your life right now that are trying to help you through this. I hope you do. If they’re anything like the people I had, they’re trying to walk you through this time the best they can. They might tell you to cry. They might tell you not to. They may say it’s time to move on. They may try to tell you to hold onto the good. They may tell you to forget the bad. Remember they’re trying and trying is all they can do.
I will not tell you to cry. I will not tell you not to cry, either. I will not tell you to move on. I will not tell you to hold on. I will not tell you to forget a single thing. What I will tell you, what you need to know, my dear sweet soul, is the truth.
The truth is losing your mom sucks.
It hurts you in ways you didn’t know you could hurt. It turns your world upside down and inside out. It makes you question everything and everyone. It makes you mad. It makes you sad. It makes you feel bad for being mad and sad. It makes you feel things you don’t want to feel and admit things you don’t want to admit. It makes you a new person, sometimes better, sometimes worse.
The truth is you’ll never be the same.
You’ll never be who you were before you laid her to rest. You may look the same, dress the same, talk the same, but the loss will make you different. You’ll see things differently. You’ll feel differently. You’ll act differently. You’ll think differently. The biggest change: You’ll love differently.
The truth is you didn’t lose her.
Not really. She will forever be in your smile, in your hug, in your steps. She taught you how to do all those things, and so she isn’t really gone. You cannot see her, but you’ll forever feel her. You cannot touch her, but you’ll always be touched by her. You cannot hear her, but her words will still guide you. You didn’t lose her, but gained an angel.
The truth is it gets better.
I can’t tell you when the tears will stop. I can’t tell you why they stop when they do. I can’t tell you when the pain will end or how you’ll handle it when it does. But I can tell you that these things will happen. Your cheeks will one day be only stained and not wet with new tears. You heart will learn to beat with joy rather than suffer with ache. You eyes will readjust to this new life without her and you will see the blue sky again. There will be clouds that fill that same sky, and rain that falls, but it will still be blue and not the black it used to be.
The truth is that day will come.
Hold on to the truth.
❤ Like Baby Bear Soup