My mother died. I wasn’t ready for this. I guess no one really is. How could we be? Losing a loved one is terrible. The world stops, everything around you, close or far away simply vanishes. And you just become this consciousness that is trying to process what just happened.
You don’t feel anything, you can’t hear or speak. Your senses are muted. It felt like I was a floating spirit lost in the cosmic ocean. What just happened? Where is my mom? Where can I find her? I want to see her. One last time. Please…
After a few weeks, I started to realize slowly and painfully that she too vanished from the surface of the globe. I panicked and burst into tears. The thought of not being able to see her ever again sinking into me. I was thinking of all things she would miss, words I didn’t say and things I didn’t do when I had the chance… It almost felt like I was being punished unfairly for something I didn’t do. The feeling of injustice was so strong. I was mad. Mad at the whole world, mad at the Universe, mad at my mother for ignoring the symptoms. Her death shook everyone.
So, what now? I was wondering. Was I supposed to just go on with my life? The answer was yes. As brutal as it seemed to me, I had to get my life back to normal. I had grieved for almost two months and now was the time to get back on my feet. But being on the other side of the planet didn’t help. I had to push myself for everything. To get out of bed, to shower, to cook, to get out of house. I was missing my family, my friends. It was extremely easy to give in to grief and low self-esteem. Here is the trap. That moment where you give in. But I said no. I was still grieving but I picked myself up and started to socialize and work again. Life seemed simpler. Something had shifted. My brain was usually focusing on how I looked, what people would think, practical things and how to optimize my day. Now I was simply living. No questioning. I was at peace. The storm had passed. I was getting less and less angry about silly things that don’t actually matter. A deep sense of connection with my environment and people arose. I wasn’t feeling scattered anymore. Instead I was centred and aware.
I was thinking about my mother every day. Especially at night. I would talk to her and pretend I could hear her reply back to me, looking over me. Surprisingly, the stream of tears never ran dry. Crying was a relief. The amount of pain was tremendous and I had to get it out. I’m still working on it these days. I guess a life time isn’t enough to mourn a lost loved one. The pain softens a bit with time. It snuggles into a deep place within only to come back to the surface from time to time. That’s it. Time doesn’t heal wounds, it just helps forget about them for a while.
There’s moments where I feel my mother as if she was living through me and I’m her host. I guess we are our parents after all. It feels good though. She’s there and will always be with me, in me.
So, I live. I try to make her proud. I do my best and I know that I have to aim for the best and not settle for less. I must to live fully and unapologetically. Dare, act, try, fail, start again, do what makes you happy. What’s the point of living if we don’t enjoy it. Now I understand differently the phrase “Life is short”. Live (fully) before you die. Death taught me how to live truly.
Jennyfer Gauche
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