What do you want to say to the person you lost

[cvvillamar]

Probably the one recurring theme in my life would be the thought, “Mom, I wish you were here.” Nothing as deep and as sincere a longing has ever been felt in my life as this wish.

My mom passed away a week before Christmas on a cold winter in my part of the world. When I found out, I felt both a sense of finality and fantasy. She has been sick and suffering for so long, that deep inside, I already accepted that the end was near. But when it finally happened, I felt like I was in some weird fantasy land, because I somehow could not believe it was real. I have been orphaned. It is not a disservice to my father to admit that I grew up and was cocooned in my mom’s warmth. She was the parent of my heart, the one written in my soul. My father provided the means for this body to grow and become a healthy adult, but it was my mother who nurtured my spirit and made my heart feel free, and yet secure. When she left, the heart that she cradled crashed and broke. The wound is deep, and although it will heal, how can I become a better person after all of this? That is my mother’s wish for me. No matter what, no matter what life brings you, take it and mold it to become a person better than what you are today. But how do I do it mom? How do I do this without you?

Now the question I grapple, almost a year after her passing, can I truly ever be happy again? Can I be happy with myself or with anyone? I feel that any mission, any goal that I set for myself so that I can develop and share my gifts to the world, is because I am trying to fill an empty hole she has left in my life.

I ask myself, are all motherless children like this? Are we all walking with a gaping hole in our soul? If so, what do we do about it?

Right now, I can only imagine a time when I no longer feel incapacitated by the thought of being motherless. I supposed this is what psychologist would define, the stage of denial. I still can’t believe it, and I still can’t fully face it. Until I could visit my mother’s grave and not feel wronged that I have to go there instead of hanging out with her in a restaurant or going shopping with her, then I will continue living in a state of limbo.

She has always been the energy that could somehow calm my restless spirit. I was the child who could not stand still, who had so many ideas, and had so many thoughts that caused anxieties. She was the one who would listen to all my worries, who didn’t tell me that everything will turn out the way I wanted, but who tried every time to convince me that everything will be alright. Now I need to hear that voice again. Without you mom, how can I believe that everything will still be alright?

One obvious good I can see happening in my life right now is that her passing made me more fearless. If I am still living, breathing, thinking, and feeling after going through probably one of the greatest tragedies in a child’s life, then I can do anything. Now I want more. I want more because I am less afraid to risk or to be hurt. How much more hurt can a person really experience after this? Whereas before, I could not imagine myself as a mother and having a family, now I even know where I would like to raise my children, and how to raise them. These dreams used to be like something I would just watch on television. They look real, but they’re actually make-believe. Now, the screen is gone, and all that is left is reality. After my mom left, reality does not have left that would scare me, but it does have a lot to offer that I want to reach out and experience fully.

These realizations have become my life’s breath. My mom gave me security when she was with us, and with her passing, she inadvertently gave me wings. With her gone, there won’t be someone who is constant in cushioning life’s blows, but I no longer perceive the blows as tough as I used to, because I am surviving the hardest one of all.

I love her. She was the one. Without her, I have to learn that I am the one as well.

[Lor1]

I can so relate - that pervading I wish you were here thought is with me much of the time. I had the kind of relationship with my Dad that you describe with your Mum - it is I think a relationship that can never be replaced. On good days I feel blessed to have had him and on bad just raw and heartbroken and lost.

I never knew the meaning of heartbroken until I lost him yet I had worried many years before it happened about it happening and like your Mum he just wanted the best for me - when his kidneys failed he said to me he loved me and for it not to affect me - but that has been impossible. Adult orphan is a horrible place to be but your post was inspiring - I think becoming more fearless is a good way to be but for me I have lost faith, trust and become more anxious - I hope that too is just a phase. It is just so hard.

I'd like to say sorry to my Dad for not being at his bedside when he passed. I'd like to say to him how much I love him and owe him and thank him for all he did for me. I'd like to make him laugh again (he did not get much of that in last few months). Thankfully apart from the first thing I did get the chance to say those things.

More than saying things though I wish I had a time machine and could make him here and young again with a body that works and a spirit that wanted to take on the world.

Feeling very alone in my Grief and my husband just does not understand - cannot blame him as he has never lost anyone. My Dad and I went through so much together (difficult childhood - who hasn't though?) so was my best friend too - I miss someone always believing in me and having my best interests at heart - he was a lovely selfless funny bright caring man and at the moment I just don't know how I will get through the next 30-40 years without him.

I have a beautiful 9 year old girl and promised my Dad I would try to do as good a job with her as he did with me so I can and will go on - but in my heart and terrible as it sounds if I did not have her I would want to be with my Dad. Dying doesn't frighten me any more (just any pain) - my Dad used to say that there is either some thing or nothing and in a way I think well if there isn't I won't know but if there is - seeing him again - nothing could compare.

At night before I go to sleep I imagine going up my old drive, all our old routines - and that and dreaming of him feels like all I have. Thanks for listening all.

[lemc87]

I wish my mom was here every single day. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her. I talked to her the night before she died and am so very thankful I was able to tell her I loved her. I want to believe so badly that there's an afterlife, that she's looking down on her babies and watching us, protecting us.

I want to tell her how she's the most amazing person in the world to me, that she is the best mom I could have ever asked for. I want to thank her for always being there for me, regardless. I want to talk to her one last time and tell her how much she means to me. I want to apologize to her for not being able to give her grandchildren before she passed.

I want to ask her how she expects me to do this alone, how she thinks I'm supposed to survive without my best friend by my side. I can't even begin to fathom how I'm supposed to get on with life with the realization that I won't be able to pick up the phone and call her when I need someone.

But most of all, I want to hug her, tell her I love her, and how she is the most beautiful, selfless, kind, and nurturing person I know.

I miss her so much... my heart is breaking and I don't know where to go from her.

[ameliae]

I wish I could tell her I'm sorry I made her wait 24 hours before I found her, that I am so sorry she had to lay there all alone and as much as I wish I could remember your happy smile face I don't, I remember the tortured look that was on your face the day I found you and no matter what I do that image won't leave my mind. That when I had that bad feeling in my heart that something was wrong when she wasn't answering my calls I should have drove down that day instead of waiting until I had to go to work the next day-but she hadn't been sick and was only 54. I wish I could tell her I love her one more time and that she was the light in my life that kept me going and without that life seems pointless and I miss my mom, my best friend, my confidant. I wish I could tell her I would switch places with her in a heartbeat and she had so much more to live for. I wish I could tell her that her 5 year old adopted son Jude was the best werewolf ever for Halloween and everytime he asks to go to Heaven and visit her my heart breaks a little more for both him and me. I wish I could tell her I've lost my faith in God. It's exactly a month today since I found her but instead of the days getting easier they are getting harder and little more of me continues to die along with her every day.

[May21612]

I guess I would tell my mother: I love you. You gave me so much, all of my acheivements are because of you (I think she already knows that). I've said what I needed to say to her, I just wish I can hear her tell me what she thinks as her grand-baby reaches milstones. I wish she was there to hold my toddler, I want her to know the magic her grandmother had. I want my daughter to feel that crazy love from her grand-ma who tells her how exceptional she is and the best little girl that every lived in her usual way. I want my father to stop missing his soulmate. I want my younger siblings to still have their mother. She saw me marry, graduate, and have a child. I was her eldest of four, I was right by her side. Nobody see's your best and your worst like your kids and as a child, growing up it was hard to understand why she had to do the things she did with us 4, but now that I am a mother I'm starting to understand. It's hard,all of us miss her. She died Jan 5th. I was able to spend the last night with her, alone in SICU. I left my husband with my baby and flew to her, that night I volunteered to stay with her in SICU so my dad and siblings could get some rest. She was talking that night, conversing and as the night passed on, I think I felt her soul leave. Again, I got to pray and say what I needed to say to her. She was not responsive after that night and lasted until the next evening, just breathing. My dad came the next morning for his turn to sit with her, and she stopped talking. She spent her last night talking to me, even after my dad spend days and nigths by her side, washing her face, even fixing her make-up. I feel so fortunate to have had that opportunity. She visits me in dreams - they help. But my father has so much trouble still. He's had only one dream of her which put him on cloud 9, then it wore off. I wish she was still alive, happy and healthy. I wish she was here to spread her good spirit and thought for others and especially for my daughter.