On becoming a motherless daughter

It is always worse at night. The house is quiet, Lainey is sleeping and my mind explodes. It’s been 44 days now that I have been motherless and it feels like only 44 minutes. It feels like my sister-in-law just woke us up by pounding on the door that night. Adam was at the front door before I was and I heard her say it. ‘Cheryl is dead’. I fell to my knees right there in the kitchen. Nothing has been the same since. The reality is that she had been long gone by then. We had been without our Mama for 13 hours already and didn’t.even.know.it. How can that be? How can you not know the instant that part of you is gone? They said it was instant. Painless. I am thankful for this but horrified that she was alone. My Mother died alone. She died over my lunch hour. I ate lunch like nothing was happening, when the reality was completely opposite of that. How can that be? Adam, Lainey and I went out to dinner that night at a mexican restaurant that Lainey and I ate at with Grandma just the week before. I wish I was with her instead. I wish my brother wasn’t the one to find her. We turn the ringer on our cell phones down at night. We didn’t hear his call. We weren’t there for him. We didn’t answer. The weeping was instant and hasn’t stopped since. The next day my eyes burned from having cried for so long. The skin on my forehead was tender and felt bruised-perhaps because my face was in a different position for so many hours while crying.

This is all I can write now. When we lost our babies, I wrote because it helped me to feel better. I’m hoping this will do the same. I have so much sadness trapped inside that if perhaps I get it out somehow, the weeping will stop.

5 thoughts on “On becoming a motherless daughter

  1. 220 days, it feels like just yesterday for me. Some days I don’t want to get out of bed and face the day, knowing I can’t call her ever again. Part of me died with her.

  2. My heart aches for you, know that your grief will eventually be bearable. I lost my dad 23 years ago, it was hard, but eventually my sadness lessened over the years. Now he is a memory and a promise I will see him again one day.

  3. Oh, Shana, my heart breaks for you. I shed tears as I write this, remembering the pain and sorrow of loosing my mom. There’s nothing anyone can do for you, or you can do for yourself. Just ride it out and let Lainey and Adam and work distract you as much as possible. When you’re sitting there alone at night, thinking about your mom, go ahead and ask God all those questions and tell Him how you feel. I don’t know why He chooses to take people home when He does, but I know He understands our grief and wants to bring us comfort. Sometimes it helps me to think of what an absolutely, positively, phenomenal time Mom is having in Heaven! My love and prayers to you. I wish I were there to hug you!

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