In my family, there’s a tale about my great-grandfather and his seven brothers, who all agreed to reunite in Nova Scotia after departing from the “Old World.” My great-grandfather, however, ended up in St. Paul, MN, which is where we trace our family’s unfortunate tendency to get lost. I have found myself disoriented several times a week since I began driving twenty years ago, relying on maps, then MapQuest, and now GPS or Waze. Navigating life without these tools seems impossible.
For me, my mother was my guiding compass. She was (and still is) my constant source of direction. I would reach out to her three to five times daily. She was present during the births of both my children. In a job interview, when asked how I approach problem-solving, I stated, “I first consult my mom—she’s my sounding board.”
My mother had an exceptional talent for being supportive while also knowing when to challenge me. Although I married my best friend, my mother was my true soulmate. Just last week, I witnessed her take her final breath. Now, I find myself navigating life without her guidance, grappling not only with the profound loss of the most incredible person I’ve ever known but also the absence of my guiding star.
What happens the next time my daughter performs an impressive lip sync routine and I wish to share the video with my mom? Who do I turn to when facing conflict with my husband? When I feel like I’m failing as a mother, who will I call? I have others—friends, my brother, my father, my husband—but none can fill the void my mother has left.
In the past few weeks, I have shed countless tears. Yet, even amid my grief, I have gained some perspective. I witnessed my mother’s passing; she did not have to endure my death. Although her life was tragically shortened, I recognize this as a blessing—I am grateful she did not have to bury me. Moreover, she lived for sixteen years following a devastating cancer diagnosis, with fourteen of those years spent in relatively good health. She was present at my wedding and built relationships with my children, which seemed unlikely at the time of her diagnosis. These memories are treasures, but they do little to fill the aching void in my heart.
In the past week, my community has rallied around me. The flood of love for my mother from her lifelong and newer friends has been overwhelming. Upon returning home to observe shiva, my house was filled with people—many who had never met my mother but knew her through my stories. My community has stepped up, bringing food, offering rides, sharing hugs, and checking in on me. Yet, this kindness does not help me navigate the uncharted waters of life without my mother.
I understand I’m not alone in losing a mother. Many are fortunate enough to feel they had the best mom in the world. All I know is that my mentor, confidante, and hero is no longer here to share in my joys, laughter, and struggles. People have offered the comforting notion that “she will always be with you.” While I believe this to be true, right now, I feel like I’m attempting to maneuver through life blindfolded, pretending I can see.
If you’re interested in exploring the topic of home insemination, check out our other blog post here. For those seeking authoritative resources, Make a Mom provides comprehensive information on home insemination kits, and NHS is an excellent resource for pregnancy and related topics.
In summary, losing a mother is an indescribable journey filled with a mix of grief and gratitude. The memories and lessons shared linger on, yet the absence is a profound challenge. As I navigate this new reality, I lean on my community and cherish the moments we had together.