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Am I “Over It?”

[1]My mother died 36 years ago this past Saturday, January 9th. That is a LONG time ago. Her death has been more a part of me than her being alive.

January 9th is not a hard day for me anymore. My mood doesn’t change, I don’t do anything particularly special, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I know what day it is. On January 9th, I reflect from time to time on it being the day that changed my life the most, and I then go back to my present world in 2010.

Am I over it? In many ways, yes.

I have no idea what it would look like to have a mom. I can’t imagine someone doing the classic “mom” things for me, or with me. I am okay with that. I don’t expect it, or look for it. I have made my peace with this as who I am. I sometimes think my heart is a little more hardened to protect me from missing any of those things, and from the independence that was forced upon me.

Becoming a mom has probably been one of the biggest things that helped me. Loving unconditionally, and being loved from a child unconditionally, filled my heart in so many ways that took away so much of the sting of not having a mom. Also, I have acquired so many gifts from my loss that I now embrace and cherish.

Am I over it? In many ways, no.

My life is still forever different because of January 9th. There still is a hole in my heart. I know I will never get that love from anyone else in my life like I would have from having a mother. I still have some of the same weird “isms” that developed when I was a kid, coping with loss. I still don’t like conflict. I still feel very different than other females. I still wake up in the middle of the night and make sure my heart is still beating and hope I am not going to die in bed like my mother, before the sun comes up. I also have no expectation of anyone to be in my life for a long period of time. I expect them to have a season—long or short—but I am often okay, or not surprised, when the season ends.

I am really lucky my world has become largely filled with Comfort Zone people. When we are together we create our own majority –those who “get” loss. That is the world I feel most normal and at peace. It is a world filled with most of the finest people I know. These are people—kids and adults—who see the world with added dimension, colors, and depth because they HAVE experienced loss.

I was asked recently if I would give up a year of my life to have one more day with my mom (or dad). My answer was no. For me, my life is now filled with such a wonderful (and goofy) husband and my two kids. I love my life right now. I hate to give up a day with them, and would never sacrifice a year with them, EVEN if it was to have one more day with my mom. I think that means I am at a healthy place and a good place in my grief journey.

Photo Credit. [2]