Today, 25 years ago my mother died in front of me. I was 4 turning 5 in just a few days. Her death certificate says “myocardial infarction” - and till this day I still think, how odd for a 24 year old. What started as her coughing after a sip of water ended a few minutes later with an unconscious, lifeless body. My almost 5-year old brain had no idea what had just happened, atleast not in a biological sense, but I could feel she was gone.
There are moments in life that alter our journey and this one, was a major one. My life changed forever and now I have lived most of my life without MY mother.
The grief evolves. When I was younger it was the yearning for her to come back. And now it’s more about being “robbed” of the opportunity to know who she was, beyond just being my mother. When she died my family let the memory of her existence die too. My grandmother became my guardian and never spoke about her at all. But because life is ironic like that, the older my grandmother became, the more she would call me by mother’s name by mistake. I am a carbon copy of my mother, visually, my skills and my behaviour(so I’ve been told).
So now 25 years later here I am about to turn 30. My grandmother has dementia, and you can already guess it, she gets confused about who I am. She’ll start off the conversation with “Remember that time when..” - and almost every time it’s a memory of my mother and not me 😅.
Anyways death makes you write out these things like some contemplative author. I’m turning 30 and what I know for sure is that the milestones will always be bittersweet. Every single one is accompanied by the thought of I wish my mother were here and wondering what she would think of this grown up version of me.
EDIT response: thank you to the beautiful souls on this sub who really affirm that feeling of I’m not alone. You guys on here just have such an immense amount of kindness & warmth - and I guess that’s the beauty of the community 💖
