First, let me say I’m not a professional. I’m not here to tell you what to do or how to do it. I’m just here to share my experiences. Good and bad.
Grief is a journey. And it’s nothing like what I expected. Not that I’d spent much time considering what it might be like. My opinion now is it’s one of those things in life you have to experience yourself to have a clue. And even then, grief changes the rules on you, sometimes on a daily, hourly, minute…ly basis.
I’d never purposely invite anyone along for the ride, but if you find yourself in a similar place and you’re looking for something to let you know you’re not alone, you’re in the right place.
I am a motherless daughter. Not by choice. Never by choice.
Nearly three years have passed and I have decided to share my experiences. Not because I think I’ve tapped into some great source of zen over losing my mother, but because I’m still learning to navigate this world without her. Each time I meet someone else who has lost their mother it’s like looking in the mirror. Sure, we don’t look exactly alike, but somewhere deep down we all carry the same scar. The scar someone can only be gifted with when you’re struck down by the death of your mother and somehow, some way, you manage to survive it. A scar means you lived and begun to heal.