There’s a tale in my family about my great-grandfather and his seven brothers who promised to reunite in Nova Scotia after leaving the “Old World.” My great-grandfather, however, ended up in St. Paul, MN — the root cause of our family’s notoriously bad sense of direction. I have found myself lost multiple times a week since I first got behind the wheel two decades ago. I’ve relied on maps, transitioned to MapQuest, and now depend on GPS and Waze. Navigating life without these tools would be impossible.
In many ways, my mother was my compass. She was my guiding star, the person I called 3-5 times a day. She was present for the births of both my children and was my go-to person during moments of decision-making. When asked in a job interview how I tackle challenges, I’d say, “I first consult my mom — she’s my sounding board.”
My mother had an incredible knack for being supportive while also holding me accountable. I married my soulmate, but I always felt that my mother was my true confidante. Just last week, I watched her take her final breath. Now, I’m navigating life without her guidance, grappling with the loss of the most extraordinary person I’ve ever known.
What will I do the next time my daughter performs an amazing lip sync routine and I long to share the video with my mom? Who can I turn to when facing a conflict with my husband? When I feel like I’m failing as a mother, who will I call? While I have friends, my brother, my dad, and my husband to support me, none of them can fill the void my mother has left.
In the past couple of weeks, I have shed countless tears. Yet, amidst the sorrow, I’ve found perspective. I witnessed my mother’s passing; she didn’t have to endure watching me go first. Although her life ended too soon, I recognize that I was fortunate to have her for 16 years, 14 of which she spent in good health after a devastating cancer diagnosis. She attended my wedding and formed bonds with my children — moments I didn’t think would happen when she first received her diagnosis. These memories are precious, yet they don’t fill the aching void in my heart.
In the week following her death, my community has rallied around me. The love poured out for my mother from her lifelong friends, and even those who only knew her through my stories, has been overwhelming. I returned from Florida to hold shiva, and my home was filled with people for three straight days. My community has been a lifeline, providing meals, rides, hugs, and countless check-ins. Still, the question lingers: how do I navigate life now that I’m without my mother?
I know I’m not alone in this experience. Many have the blessing of having been raised by an incredible mother. I can only express how deeply I miss my mentor, my best friend, and my hero. People say, “She’s always with you,” which feels like a platitude at times. I believe it, but right now, I’m just trying to learn how to walk through life blindfolded, pretending I can see.
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In summary, losing a mother leaves a profound emptiness, and even with the support of loved ones, the absence of that guiding presence is deeply felt. As I navigate this new reality, I hold on to the cherished memories and lessons she’s left behind.
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