It is true that the impact my mom had on my development and my character will never leave me. I will always have memories of her to lean on and she does impact the decisions I make day to day. I do not want to deny that she is “with me” in that regard, but as to her watching over me or existing as a soul or spirit somewhere—that I cannot fully get behind. The wonderful thing about being human (and the most aggravating thing, too) is that we can't know what is in store for us after we die. I say “wonderful” because, to me, it means there isn’t anything to argue about. I can’t be sure she isn’t in the clouds looking down on me and I can’t be sure she is. I’m okay not knowing and not guessing. The only thing I can really go off of here is intuition and feeling. And, as much as I’d like to, I don’t feel her. For me, she is gone.
It’s sad, but it’s okay. I don’t want to hide from it, but cope with it. There is much to celebrate, much to remember, much to keep alive as my own mortal journey continues. This is not to say that I don’t partake in my own imaginative ways of coping. I write to my mom in a journal dedicated to that purpose. It’s a comfort to write as if she can hear and stay up to date. I don’t literally believe she’s reading along, but it’s a harmless comfort to me.
I know my lack of “faith” goes against what many of my family and friends believe, but I don’t say these things to hurt or depress any of you. (For all I know, I’m the only one invested in this blog anyway.) I guess I’m sharing my emotions in dealing with this loss as a way to show that there are varied ways to cope and heal. There is no singular right way. My sadness is not a result of my lack of faith, but a natural course of action during grief. I am sad a lot, but I am also happy. Happy to have known her and happy to have had her in my life. Happy to have gotten close to her in the six or so years before her death. Happy to have been loved by her. Happy to be pursuing a life she would be proud of. Not feeling a spirit or presence does not deprive me or depress me more than is reasonable. It is hard, but also comforting to not fight against the only truths we know for sure: we live briefly and then we die. While those left behind continue to live and breathe, there is no return of the departed. I am of the world and subject to its laws. Death is natural; I do not fear mine. I cannot know until I face it, but being left behind seems a lot more difficult than leaving.
