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My most sincere condolences to riaelise and all other posters similarly affected.
I am a cancer survivor, over a decade, and I hate that disease. I only know 1 survivor of pancreatic cancer. ( very early diagnosis and surgery, she was truly blessed) Pancreatic cancer has a dismal survival rate, but I believe we will see that change in the future. MD Anderson in Houston is constantly hacking away at eliminating cancer, and being the optimist that I am, I believe we will see this happen. (Well, maybe not me personally, but my kids and grandkids for sure)
I was out running on Mother’s Day this year and a song came up on my music playlist ( music has played a part in my therapy, all my life) and it was the perfect song for that day, for me. ( I lost my mom years ago) The song was “Reckless Love’ by Cory Asbury. The song is about god’s love, but that day I keep hearing mom, every time. And that song described my mom’s love. I was on a downward spiral for quite sometime and my mom never gave up on me. A lot of people did, and some should have, I was a prodigal son for sure. I am so glad my mom lived to see me change my life and become a better person. Anyway, the song and it lyrics will be my anthem on every Mother’s Day, the rest of my life.
My most sincere condolences to riaelise and all other posters similarly affected.
I am a cancer survivor, over a decade, and I hate that disease. I only know 1 survivor of pancreatic cancer. ( very early diagnosis and surgery, she was truly blessed) Pancreatic cancer has a dismal survival rate, but I believe we will see that change in the future. MD Anderson in Houston is constantly hacking away at eliminating cancer, and being the optimist that I am, I believe we will see this happen. (Well, maybe not me personally, but my kids and grandkids for sure)
I was out running on Mother’s Day this year and a song came up on my music playlist ( music has played a part in my therapy, all my life) and it was the perfect song for that day, for me. ( I lost my mom years ago) The song was “Reckless Love’ by Cory Asbury. The song is about god’s love, but that day I keep hearing mom, every time. And that song described my mom’s love. I was on a downward spiral for quite sometime and my mom never gave up on me. A lot of people did, and some should have, I was a prodigal son for sure. I am so glad my mom lived to see me change my life and become a better person. Anyway, the song and it lyrics will be my anthem on every Mother’s Day, the rest of my life.
My prayer for you today is comfort and peace.
Too soon to rep again, latunafish, but thanks for sharing your story. I am a mom of an alcoholic with five years sobriety. Keep going.
You know I have been following your story. Your grief is just that - your grief, no one else's. I mean, my advice would be not to allow it to utterly consume your life for years but a month is not enough time in my opinion. I am wondering if you could call your work or go up there and ask them for more time off in order to grieve. Two of the three months you were off, you were taking care of your mom.
But there is comfort in returning to "the real world," a world that is not consumed with grief, no funeral homes, no caskets, no doctors, etc. It's weird to think that life just goes on, but it truly does, and at some point we have to get past actively grieving, and honestly, that does begin to feel better. Just like I've said earlier, in most cases the good memories and gratitude for having that person in our life eventually come to outweigh the horrors of their demise.
My dad was an only child and he was funny, smart, successful, all that good stuff. He was also spoiled rotten and treated like a king his entire life, though he had his work cut out for him when he married my beautiful, charming, bipolar mother (she was actually diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder). Anyway, he often talked about what he'd do in heaven, and I knew he wouldn't be bored one second there. I didn't expect to "hear" from him like I "heard" from my grandmother and others who had passed on, in dreams or "visitations." OK so fast forward, to the two year anniversary of his death. It was early morning, and those who know me know that I have to have coffee first thing, so I was stumbling into the kitchen, hadn't even THOUGHT about my dad or the importance of that date yet, and I laid my phone down on the counter, and suddenly it began to play an artist and song that I had not "searched" at all. It played Amos Lee, singing "A Little Bit of Rain." Wow, the words to that song were TERRIFIC, and it was a short song by an artist that I knew my dad liked. Here it is:
Wow, I know that was from my dad. And now even though I never listened to that song with my dad, it reminds me so much of him and of his life. I am sure he loves it - somewhere, not sure where.
As you journey through grief, Riaelise, you will find glimpses of joy in the memories of your beloved mother. Hold tight to those; they sustain you through the rough patches.
Work can be a welcome diversion through this process. I am certain that your colleagues will give you the time and space you need if you need to take a moment or so, as grief comes in waves. There are no words to express the kindness and compassion of my former co-workers that gave me the latitude of walking away for even a few moments as the tears fell. This has no timeline; even after 14 years, I still feel his presence and the tears fall, even though I'm remarried and life is good. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think and miss him.
She remains with you - the best of your mother lives on in you - I am certain of that.
Your loss is great, dear heart, and it is fresh. Give yourself all the time you need to feel, process, and heal. My heart and best wishes are with you.
hi there, just wanted to say thanks to each and every one of you for your words.
there's not a day that goes by that I don't feel the pain.
the worst times are when I'm in my mom's house. It's so empty now, just a house. I've kept it neat as a pin, have her makeup bag on her vanity top, as if i was expecting her. Only I know that she won't ever come back.
what hurts is when some well intentioned people tell me that she 'died young' because she was 75. They mean well, but it hurts because I'd like to think that she didn't "die young". Not everyone lives to be in their 80s and 90s. Truth is we both would have loved for her to live into her 80s, or even 90s. With the caveat of being in good health, because if she was demented, that wouldn't be "life well lived". My grandmother died at 85, but 6 of those years were in the throes of dementia to the point where she did not respond or acknowledge myself or my mom, the two people she loved most in the world. That was heartbreaking. That's why I can relate to FrancaiseDeutsch's post about grieving twice. The first time for us was when she was diagnosed with dementia, and the last was when she finally died. In the time in between, it was torture for all of those involved.
i feel sometimes ashamed that i felt (and still at times do) selfish. I knew that she was suffering and up until hospice she was in constant pain. the hospital never seemed to get the pain under control. one time i held her hand, that's how bad the pain was until the hydrocodone kicked in. yet (the selfish feeling) she was still with me, and "something was better than nothing". I was so scared of losing her, and ushering in the feelings that I am going through now. I even miss caring for her. It's like I've been relieved of my duty just like that.
but in my heart I know that if I loved her, I would let go. And I did. I told her I supported her and that it was ok to die.
she wanted to hear it from me, and I meant it. but it's hard. actually that's an understatement. my world is just not normal and work is causing me anxiety because i just want to be in my world.
my mom was the one constant in my life. and even though i've married, became a mother myself, she was always there. for the first time in my life, i will no longer have her love, support, guidance, and friendship. right now, the only time i can "see" her is in my dreams.
i'll check out the songs mentioned here.
this song really thinks about how things are right now. "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday"
… How do I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh
Outweigh the bad
… I thought we'd get to see forever
But forever's gone away
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday
… I don't know where this road
Is going to lead
All I know is where we've been
And what we've been through
… And if we get to see tomorrow
I hope it's worth all the wait
It's hard to say goodbye to yesterday
… And I'll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday
… And I'll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday
Your mother was not young. If someone lives to 85 or 90, you have already lived over 80% of that once you are 75 or so. Your mother just did not live into the real elderly years. But for most, being in your 80's comes with a whole host of problems. Some people do well at 85 or so, but they are far from the majority. By the time you are in 90's....well, things really go downhill for the vast, vast majority.
My mother made it to 71. She was not young at all. Yes, she could have lived another 10 or so years, but her stroke just did her in for good. Nothing we could do. My mother was not really designed for real old age anyways. My dad always said that, and I agree after looking back at her life.
What helps me settle down when I get hit hard with grief: put your hand over your heart area with a little pressure, and then take some very deep breaths.
I lost my "mom" during the Pandemic & I still have to remind myself she's not around physically.
The cold comfort in that is I keep going when life is a mess because she would have done that. She survived experiences that would have killed other people and she supported me.
I lost my "mom" during the Pandemic & I still have to remind myself she's not around physically.
The cold comfort in that is I keep going when life is a mess because she would have done that. She survived experiences that would have killed other people and she supported me.
I try to hold on to the good memories.
I give you great sympathy.
I don't miss my mother's company that much because she became a different person after her stroke. I had been grieving her 2 years before she died. What I miss is just her physical presence and voice. But the old her - I lost that a long time ago. After a few years, you accept the new reality that she is not coming back to her old self.
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