A year without mom

A year ago yesterday, on Feb. 10, I lost mom. I still can’t believe it’s been an entire year since she’s been gone.

I have now gone through an entire year of holidays, family celebrations and birthdays without her. And this year, there will be another wedding of a grandchild without her.

When I think of mom (which is practically a daily occurrence),  I am slowly starting to think of her with warm and loving memories and not the profound loss I feel. I know, and I’ve said this before, that mom would be furious to know that she’s caused so much sadness in my life. I can hear her saying, “Oh, Jane…”

Since her passing I have suffered from situational depression. Some days have been worse than others. Some, really not too bad. Weekends have been the hardest since mom and I spent practically every weekend together for nearly five years.

After counseling via Dr. R and my hospice bereavement counselor I decided to give an anti-depressant a try. Now, anyone who knows me know how anti-pills I am and if I don’t have to take one I won’t. But constant bouts of crying, losing passion for things I once had and just a general blah and blase feeling about things prompted me to give it a try.

I hated it. Almost immediately I started waking up several times in the middle of the night and it paralyzed any normal emotion I had. I understand it’s supposed to do the latter but I hated it. I even tried thinking about things that would normally evoke crying from me but I couldn’t shed a tear. After two weeks I knew I had to stop it. I spoke to my doctor and luckily this was one drug that you didn’t have to wean yourself from. It was surprising to her that it acted that fast on me. It took a full three weeks to get it all out of my system. I never thought I would be so happy to cry again, but I was. I got my “self” back.

I still have not been able to re-visit certain places mom and I used to go to and don’t know when I will.

I am learning to live with my “new normal.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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9 thoughts on “A year without mom

  1. I’m so very sorry for your loss. Those anniversaries are such a punch in the gut, and I’m afraid that never fully fades away. I find myself thinking things like “It’s been almost 20 Septembers without her.” It is only through the help of a therapist that I now understand that this is not a failing of mine, and that none of us are on a set timetable.

    Big hugs.

  2. Thanks so much for your encouragement, Loni. I am equally sorry for your loss.Twenty years is such a very long time. One thing I learned early on is that there is no timetable to grieving. We all grieve in our own time and in our own way. Today, for instance, I’m wearing one of mom’s jackets and have kept several pieces of her clothing. Just another way of keeping her physically close to me. I am grateful for the community I have found here. Thank you again. Take care.

  3. At times I’m sure this year passed very slowly, but now you can’t believe a year has gone by. I can tell by your words that you are healing and that makes me feel good. I grieved for so long after my mom died. I still grieve at times, still miss her, and still hit triggers that bring on crying and sadness. But this is normal as far as I’m concerned. I know how far I’ve come and I know I will always miss my mom. I think of her every day. A friend who lost his dad 38 years ago told me that he still thinks of him in some way every day. You’ve come a long way in your journey of healing. Feel good about that. Your mom is always with you in your heart. I know it’s not the same as having her next to you, but thinking of her with love and happiness makes her all the more special. You are in my thoughts. Take care. Hugs

    • Thanks, Kathy. Seems just like yesterday and an eternity at the same time. I do feel like I’ve made good progress with my healing and your comments are reassuring. Never thought I could get this far since my feelings of loss were so profound. I still hear her in my mind and it brings a tear and a smile. I am just happy to have my feelings back. Thanks again for your support.

  4. The first year is an important milestone, yet the journey is just beginning. You’ve come a long way. Keep trucking. There are some of us who understand a bit of what you are going through.

  5. Hi Jane,
    you’re only just at the start of your journey so it’s no wonder you are up and down with everything.
    I would have kept some of my mum’s clothing but it was all cleared from her house and donated to charity shops one saturday afternoon while I was at a football match.
    Gone, all her clothes, shoes , handbags..the whole lot, like she was never there.just the smell of her and her perfume lingering in the air like a distant memory.
    I was devastated, I knew it had to be done as we had to clear the house, but it hurt then and it still does now.
    The first year is the worst I think.. anniversaries, birthdays, little things like telephone calls and christmas cards…

    I didn’t go down the drugs or counselling road ( which I’m glad about) , I’m just trying to work through things and try to accept that this is life, and also regain some of the joys and interests of living again.
    That hole that is so deep and black will get smaller and the light on the other side of that hole will shine more brightly back into your life.
    I have a locket that my wife bought me which has got a lock of my mum’s hair in it. When it gets really bad I can feel her close to my heart. It helps a bit.
    Incidentally my Mum’s name was Jane too.

    Good luck with your journey Jane, well done for kicking the drugs out 🙂
    Thinking of you.
    Love n hugs
    xxx

    • Thanks so much for your encouraging comments. Luckily mom and I wore the same size so I kept certain things of hers. While we wore different size shoes, I did keep a pair just to have. What a lovely and meaningful gesture by your wife.

      I went the counseling route and do now on an “as-needed” basis because I found talk therapy to be the best. I just needed to talk. While my friends generously offered their ears, I felt it a burden on them. I’m a firm believer in mind over matter and thought I could rationalize everything but it came to a point where I was just quasi-non functional – mind you 10 months after her passing – but I was also done with my daughter’s wedding and had all this free time – no more wedding planning and no more taking care of mom.

      I do expect continuous ups and downs but that comes with the territory. I will get there! Thanks so much again for responding to my posts. My best to you.

  6. Hi Jane,
    Sorry I’ve just re read my reply,and what I meant was I was glad I didn’t go down the drug route.:-(

    My wife did suggest counselling, but whereas I, like you ,wanted to talk about her, I wanted to talk to people that knew her, knew me, not just some faceless uncaring person who would sit there making comforting noises, when all I wanted to do was crawl away somewhere and die
    I’ve never been to a counseller ( so it’s probably nothing like that at all 🙂 ), but perhaps I should have at the time, it might have made it feel a little bit better.

    You’re right too about my wife. I’m one of the lucky people, I married someone who still loves about me as much as I love her. She knew how badly I was hit, how emotionally, physically and mentally damaged I was / have been /still am from that time. I wouldn’t say I’ve been a burden, but I would say there have been times when I’ve been very hard to live with.

    Funnily enough, after mum died, I had all this spare time which I just didn’t know what to do with, apart from think and remember.
    It will get better though Jane, as time passes and the memories fade, and your mind accepts that this is the staus quo, life is life, death is death, it happens to us all, and to a lot of people it hurts exactly the same.
    Chin up, and remember, always in our thoughts, forever in our hearts.
    Hope you have a good weekend Jane,
    love n hugs
    Nick
    xxx

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