Six years ago, when I was 25 years old, I received a call from my parent’s neighbor informing me that my mother was found deceased in my childhood home. I was with my mom the night before and there were no signs of her being ill, let alone having catastrophic heart problems. She was only 61 years old. My best friend, the woman who raised me, was gone.
Grief is personal. If you’re wondering why I’m sharing such difficult memories, it’s because writing has always been how I process my emotions. I journal several days a week to get the words out. The more I write, the easier the words flow. Over the past six years I’ve discovered that sharing my experience can help others process their emotions as well. In 2018 I wrote a blog post titled, It’s Been Six Months Since My Mom Passed Away and still receive private messages to this day from strangers who come across it. When we’re going through something hard, there’s power in knowing we aren’t alone.
The role that will never be replaced
My mom was so much more than a mom. Her name was Sandy. She was a devout Christian and loved God and her church community. My mom loved children, especially her own three daughters, but there were so many children in my mom’s heart. She devoted much of her life to working with children of all ages.
My mom was brilliant, witty, and kind, but her greatest power was making others feel seen. I usually found her on her recliner, cackling on the phone with her sisters or friends. So many people came to my mom for emotional support or a mood boost. I never once heard her say a bad thing about her sisters or friends, a sense of loyalty I always admired.
For years I mourned the loss of a mom who was so much more than a mom. Now that I’m a mom, I see the beauty in having a hole in my heart that will never be replaced. There’s only ever going to be one Sandy Madura and I was lucky enough to call her my best friend.
My support group
The traumatic loss of my mom required me to lean on others like never before. Sadly, many of my friends at the time said nothing, avoiding the topic of my mom’s death entirely. Whether or not they realized it, many only responded to the news of my mom’s death by “liking” the obituary I posted on Facebook. I take partial responsibility, I didn’t treat the subject with the gentleness it deserved.
If I could go back to 2017, I would handle the news of my mom’s passing for what it was: Personal, heartbreaking and life-altering. I wish I would’ve called my friends and told them my mom died unexpectedly. I needed support, and I wish I said those words out loud. Home was the only place I felt safe crying and I wish someone stopped by to check on me. Most of all, I wanted my friends to step up. I lost my mom and I needed them to put their egos aside and check-in. I wasn’t looking for solutions or wise words, I just didn’t want to be alone.
The last six years have taught me how important friendship and community is. Now, I see how beautiful life can be when I make a conscious effort to be vulnerable in my relationships. The more authentic we are, the deeper our friendships become. I am so lucky to have a handful of women who really know me, whom I also consider my best friends.
Give yourself time to grieve
Death is a natural part of life yet it is such a taboo subject. When my mom died, I was a 25-year-old marketing specialist at a corporate office. Our workplace allotted two days of bereavement to grieve, so three days later I walked into the office and told my colleagues what had happened.
I’m not going to sugarcoat this, I didn’t take care of myself the way I should have following a life-altering event. As a lifelong people pleaser I was terrified of dropping the ball at work. I cried only in the privacy of my own home and did all I could to compartmentalize my emotions. When my emotions could no longer be contained, I disconnected from my body, running from the pain.
Our bodies need time to process emotions. Over the past six years I learned the hard way that ignoring emotions causes illness, fatigue, and resentment. Due to years of emotional neglect, my body was trained to ignore the signs of distress, especially if it would affect others around me. I have been working on checking in with myself throughout the day to see what I need. Some days I need rest, some days I need to move my body, other days beg for me to be creative. Whatever it may be, I’m proud to say I’m not ignoring my emotional, physical, or psychological needs any longer.
Dad started dating again
My dad started dating four months after my mom passed away. He told me the news via email. From my dad’s point of view he was sharing good news. Unfortunately, the delivery felt impersonal and whether or not my dad realized it, the timing felt cruel. I had just received my mom’s autopsy report in an email the day before.
My parents were happily married for 36 years. By today’s standards, my mom died young, leaving my dad a widower at 66 years old. Some would say my dad dating again was inevitable, but it came as a complete shock to me. I didn’t know how to express myself and lied, telling him he had my support. He took my support at face value and began to share personal details of his dating experience. I grew numb, nodding along and tuning out his words to avoid the pain. A few months later I moved out of state away from my dad, hoping the physical distance would act as a makeshift boundary.
Holding back our truth has a price. I can see that I avoided telling my dad I was hurt to keep the peace. I let my fear of conflict, or the possibility of conflict, prevent me from having an authentic relationship with my father. For a while I told myself if our relationship matters, he will see my discomfort and approach the topic of dating with more discernment. It was unfair of me to assume my dad could read my mind.
As a result of me writing this blog post, I reached out to my dad and asked if we could attend therapy together. We have our first session this week.
Bonding over shared trauma
After we lost our mom, my sisters and I bonded over our heartbreak. I was the youngest by 8 years and felt like my sisters were practically strangers at this point. For years mom had been filling us in on each other’s lives.
I had high expectations of my sisters. I thought we could become best friends overnight without putting in the work. After all, society had led me to believe that sisters are born to be best friends. We unconsciously skipped learning each other’s interests, setting boundaries, and establishing the ways in which we best communicate.
In 2022 we got into a fight. If we had a solid foundation of friendship, the fight could’ve been over in a day. Unfortunately, our fight revealed how little we knew about each other. Old unresolved conflicts were brought to the surface, uncovering a history of unhealthy relationship dynamics. The repercussions of conflict avoidance once again showed up to teach me a valuable lesson.
Bonding over shared trauma is tricky because for a while it can be therapeutic. I wanted to heal alongside my sisters. I’ve learned many valuable lessons following my mom’s passing but this one might’ve been the most heartbreaking. Sometimes family is just family. We can’t all be best friends and we can’t force closeness. Regardless of how things turned out, I hope both of my sisters know I love them.
Signs and visitation dreams
I will never forget the darkest days of grief. Losing my mom made me question everything, including what I believed about heaven and God. I wasn’t finding my mom in grief despite pleading to God to prove that she was still with me. The message I received was to be brave enough to sit still with my feelings and be curious. So I started meditating, and that’s where I found the most peace.
Today, I feel my mom’s presence without begging God for it. Sometimes I’ll smell her bath oil, or hear her voice in place of mine, or see her in my dreams. When she appears in my dreams she shares advice, holds me in her arms, or just walks with me. One night, in line with her witty sense of humor, she even acted as my taxi driver in Cuba!
I believe my mom communicates with me through signs, too. In the book Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe by Laura Lynne Jackson, Jackson recommends asking for specifics when communicating with loved ones who have passed. The more I asked for guidance, the more signs appeared. Soon, I was seeing “angel numbers” like 11:11, 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, everywhere. Signs and synchronicities feel like my mom saying hello, reminding me I am on the right path.
2023 Update
I have been in therapy through BetterHelp.com on and off since the fight with my sisters in 2022. I also joined the local gym in 2022. I’ve seen firsthand how taking care of my emotional and physical wellbeing has allowed me to take better care of those around me.
My son, who turns four in February, has a mom who is modeling how rich life can be when we listen to our bodies and feel the entire spectrum of emotions. While my healing journey may never be complete, I truly feel I’m doing my best. I am so proud of the progress I’ve made, internally and externally.
Conclusion
If you are in the thick of grief, remember you are not alone. When you lose someone who means the world to you, you might feel like you’ve lost your world. Give yourself time to heal and remember that healing looks different for everyone. I pray you find people who make space for you as you navigate grief and that you see signs reminding you to keep going. Most of all, I hope you find peace during this difficult time.
Thanks for reading,
Emma