Missing My Mother On Her Birthday
Today is my mother’s birthday. It also marks two years since the last day I got to spend with my Mum before she got ill. I replay in my mind what we did together that day, what we talked about, how she looked on that last day. How could I not have known that this was the last birthday I would ever get to spend with her? That this was the last day she would be the mother I knew before the tumor which invaded her brain stole her from me. The very next day, she was admitted to hospital with the first symptoms of the devastating disease which would take her from us – although we weren’t to find this out until months later when it was already too late.
I miss Mum every day and am still surprised at the intensity of grief that grips me. Somehow I thought that two years later the pain would have lessened; but grief doesn’t work so neatly. Perhaps one of the most difficult aspects of grief is that it doesn’t follow a sequential order – it’s messy and disordered. Interestingly, in her last book before her death in 2004, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, who is known for her writings on the five stages of grief wrote:
They were never meant to help tuck messy emotions into neat packages. They are responses to loss that many people have, but there is not a typical response to loss, as there is no typical loss. Our grieving is as individual as our lives.
I don’t expect to ever get over my mother’s death, but looking to others who have come through this experience, I have the hope that things do get better; that in time, the pain eases, and I will find a new way to be in the world without her. At these times I turn to one of my favorite writers for comfort:
You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly- that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. ~ Anne Lamott
Happy Birthday Mum xxxx
Such beautiful words, Marie. My father passed 22 years ago and I relate. Yes, it never goes away, but over time, you do learn to live with it and not be so overtaken with grief. Then you think you’re at peace and something happens to trigger it all over again. Messy it is. Sending you love and hugs on your mom’s birthday.
LikeLike
Thank you Eileeen – your words mean a lot to me x
LikeLike
Thinking of you today. I love that picture of your mom. The pain does get less sharp with time although we never get over missing them. Your Anne Lamott quote fits perfectly; we all learn to dance with a limp.
LikeLike
thank you for reaching out Jackie xxx
LikeLike
I hope today is one for reflection, as it seems to be, and spending time in the best of memories you have with your mother. Take time, be well, and cry whenever needed. You’re in my thoughts, Marie. ~Catherine
LikeLike
Catherine thank you so very much for your kind words x
LikeLike
Marie, may today not be all grief but, also hold a few moments that are filled with reflections of the joy the two of you shared.
LikeLike
Diane, that is a wonderful think to say – thank you for the reminder not to dwell in the grief alone x
LikeLike
Thinking of you today, Marie. The pain lessens, but the loss is forever. But so is the love. Hugs.
LikeLike
Beautiful words Nancy – from one motherless daughter to another x
LikeLike
I know. I lost my father suddenly, and I think back on the Christmas before he died. I’m grateful that we always said I love you. It’s been 16 years since he died. On his birthday and the day he died my sisters and I connect…each of us experienced the grief differently. Two years later, mom died…14 years ago in July. Again my sisters and I share those unique dates and wonder. I think that the longing for our parents will always be there but as your final quote states, it is a good thing. Our love is a testament to the impact they had on our lives. They are with us, watching over us, as they did while here on earth. I truly believe that.
LikeLike
What a beautiful comment Kathleen – I am so thankful to you for taking the time to leave it here for me – it feels like a wonderful way to honor the memory of my Mom
LikeLike
Such a beautiful picture of your mother and post, Marie. I think I’ve shared before how difficult the loss of my mother was; that the sharpness of grief eases, but the sorrow never quite ends. I will always miss her. And spring for me, with all its beauty, is especially poignant. I remember watching the trees coming into full bloom from her hospital room.
Peace,
Jody
LikeLike
Thanks for reaching out Jody and sharing your own experience. The grief is still so sharp and cutting right now, but I do have hope that the sharpness will ease into a duller ache with time.
LikeLike
What a beautiful article and all so true, I lost my beautiful mum to ovarian cancer nearly three years ago and I will never get over it, I will just get on with because I have no choice but am very thankful for ever having her and all the happy memories. I believe they will always be with us, looking out for us, sending you hugs today
LikeLike
Adrienne, I am so deeply sorry for your loss. I think with cancer, it can feel very much like our loved ones have been cruelly stolen from our lives. Three years is still such a short time isn’t it? Thinking of you too x
LikeLike
Lovely post, Marie.
It’s the unpredictability of it that floors me. I was prepared to feel rubbish on the first of her birthdays after my mother’s death. Not so much the second year. So, in Dec I was a mess. Sometimes when I do voluntary work connected with her illness I feel upbeat and positive- today I sat in a support group and just wanted to talk about her all the time, and felt bad that nobody there knew her. Pah!
LikeLike
I think in some ways the second year is harder – the first is filled with a sense of shock; you expect to feel “better” or at least a lot less worse the 2nd year (and certainly the world expects you to!) but maybe the second year is when it really starts to sink in and you try to move on without your loved one. Rebuilding your life is a long slow painful process – but I get a lot of comfort and hope knowing that others have been here and understand. Thanks for sharing your Mum with mine today x
LikeLike
Marie, your words are so powerful, so loaded with feeling that they take me right back to this early days of grief, to the frustration of wondering when the hurt would ease up. There is no timetable, no schedule.Much like the frustration of wondering when we get back to “normal” after cancer, we wonder when we get back to normal after such a crushing loss. Know that your timetable is your own and that the loss does get easier. Eight years later, I still miss my mom terribly but I don’t feel like my heart is broken; maybe just cracked. Big hugs from across the ocean!
LikeLike
I know I have said this a lot to you Nancy, but I got such comfort and still continue to get solace from how you share about your own loss and once again thanks for sharing about the motherless daughter club with me xxx
LikeLike
As I have said here before, there are still days that I would give almost anything to spend one more afternoon with my mother left 18 years ago on Mother’s Day. Or with my father who died fifteen years ago. And I avert my eyes walking down the hall, because it hurts so much to look at my parents’ picture. But I do not think of them as often as I once did and we do go on, experiencing joy when it happens.
On the other hand, they are still gone. And not coming back.
LikeLike
Lois, I am so glad you told me that you avert your eyes because it hurts to look at your parents’ picture. I thought I was alone in being unable to bring myself to look at a picture of my Mom – I can only glance quickly but not linger on her image because the pain is still so unbearable.
LikeLike
Sending you tons of love, Marie….. TONS..
xoxoxo
LikeLike
Marie, Speaking as a child of a deceased parent who was distant and unloving, I envy the love you and your mother obviously shared. Your grief is a testament to that love and the outward sign of her life forever in your broken heart. Much love and blessings to you, Debbie
LikeLike
Oh Debbie, I am sorry to hear that this has been your experience. Grief hurts us in many different ways x
LikeLike
dear marie,
i wrote this for my family…after the sudden death of my 35 yr. old brother
for comfort…
…may we be granted an open heart
to hear the gentle beckoning,
“come hold my hand. look about you
and see the bounty of provisions for your soul.
be quiet and listen.”.
for in the stillness comes blessed peace,
when your eyes behold
the wonders of verdant Spring,
so heartbreakingly beautiful,
the mingled tears of joy and sorrow
will bring a soothing balm
to your weary eyes.
so go, go to that silent and lovely place
when you are able and in need.
soon you will learn of the great healers –
Time, Nature, and Patience.
i hope you can feel your sweet mother’s presence in everything that is beautiful, dear marie.
perhaps that is at least some comfort for a broken heart.
much love to you, XOXO,
karen, TC
LikeLike
So beautiful Karen – thank you very much for sharing such a personal tribute xxxx
LikeLike
Thank you Allyson! How in the world did you know Sunday was my mothers birthday? I miss her terribly. Your timing is impeccable. I love the words written by Anne because they are so true! I carry both my mon and dad with me every day. I talk to them like they are on the phone. I just wish I could hear them talk back . But…I find peace and comfort in knowing that one day I will.
LikeLike
Sending a big (((((((hug)))))))) .. ❤
LikeLike
gratefully received sarah xxxx
LikeLike
Oh, Marie, i weep as I read your poignant words. I wish I could have met your beautiful mother. My thoughts and special prayers go out to you as you remember her birthday–and everything else about her. xo
LikeLike
dearest jan – thank you xxx
LikeLike
I am thinking about you, Marie, and all the memories in which you must get lost today and every day. I imagine some stand out like this from Heaney’s Clearances, for his mother:
The cool that came off sheets just off the line
Made me think the damp must still be in them
But when I took my corners of the linen
And pulled against her, first straight down the hem
And then diagonally, then flapped and shook
The fabric like a sail in a cross-wind,
They’d make a dried-out undulating thwack.
So we’d stretch and fold and end up hand to hand
For a split second as if nothing had happened
For nothing had that had not always happened
Beforehand, day by day, just touch and go,
Coming close again by holding back
In moves where I was x and she was o
Inscribed in sheets she’d sewn from ripped-out flour sacks.
LikeLike
Beautifully written Marie and what a gorgeous picture of your Mum.
I always say it’s important not to put a deadline on being ‘better’. You will feel better when you feel better and in the meantime it’s important not to put pressure on yourself to BE better. If that makes sense…
My lovely Dad died 11 years ago in May and in fact it was his birthday too a couple of weeks ago. As someone who is further down the road I can say that the pain, while still there, does become less sharp and I think that’s as ‘better’ as it gets.
What helps is when you allow yourself to reiterate jokes she told or tell funny stories that involved her. The stuff you would have laughed about with her when she was here. For me at first that felt disrespectful somehow, but my Dad would have hated to think that I felt like that and actually it rewired my brain to remember him with happiness more often than sadness. It also helps me to picture him in full health instead of how he looked when he was sick.
The other thing to remind yourself is that you were with her for that major moment in her life that we all will face, the end of life. When you think about it, her major life moments were being born, having you, and passing away…and I can tell she was surrounded by love during that last one…and that’s down to you. The bond that that would have created between you cannot be lessened or diminished by death…it’s just too strong.
And finally, where they are now they feel no pain and have no illness. When it is our time, I believe we’ll be there too, with them, re-telling those funny stories. Until then, I think we have to be carriers of their best qualities so that the world can still be better for them having been here.
Hugs+++
Lisa
LikeLike
Marie, thank you for sharing such a lovely photo of your mum. I am sure that your mum was such a special person because of the lovely daughter that she brought in to this world. When you brought up Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, who is known for her writings on the five stages of grief, they all happen at different times for us when the death of a loved one happens. I can’t imagine what a shock it was to have gone from celebrating her birthday to find out how sick she was the day after in the hospital. Sending you blessings and love with virtual hugs. XoXoXo
LikeLike
I know you’re think of her and missing her sweetie! I hope you can feel better from the good memories that you have. It seems you have lots of them from how close you were.
LikeLike
Such a beautifully written post… I’m so sorry for your loss and for the way you had to lose her…
Warmest thoughts are with you…
LikeLike
Thanks so much for stopping by and I am pleased that it means I have discovered your blog which I am now following. Like you, I thought i was too young for breast cancer when i was diagnosed in my early thirties but I guess we learned that cancer is no respecter of age!
LikeLike
Thanks for following me, Marie. I am now following you, too, and think what you are doing with your blog is wonderful. I’m sorry you understand what it is like to face cancer at this age, but glad you have used your experience to help others.
Warmest wishes…and I am looking forward to reading more!
LikeLike
Same here x
LikeLike
Thank you again Marie for sharing your thoughts and for reminding us lucky enough to still have our mothers not to take things for granted.
LikeLike
Thank you Deirdre – it’s always so lovely to hear from you.
LikeLike
Just over a year later my mother died. I always meant to thank you again Marie for your wonderful encouragement to have no regrets. By a strange coincidence I came across my original post, dated exactly a year ago today!
LikeLike
I am so sorry to hear of your loss Deirdre. Sending loving thoughts your way x
LikeLike
I lost my mom who was also my best friend last week and have no idea how to live in this world without her. We lived only one street a part and spoke everyday and usually I saw her every day. The last two years I quit work so I could take care of her and it was the best decision of my life, which was made possible by my dad! The past 6 months were the hardest and I was by her side 24/7 until may 8th when she took her last breath. I feel like the amount of pain and grief is insurmountable and then I stumble across this page of strong and loving women who have at some point all felt the same way as I do and is now helping others with their grief. I hope to eventually be in a place to help others instead of being consumed with grief. Your words have given me hope that someday this pain will lessen and I can remember the wonderful times we had together and smile… instead of crying. Thank you all!
LikeLike
Oh Ange, my heart aches for you – I know the indescribable pain you are writing about and I wish I could save you and all of us from this awful grief. All I can say is that time does ease the sharpness of the pain but the pain doesn’t go away. Thinking of you xxx
LikeLike
Hi Marie,
Checking in to say I hope you have a nice week.
LikeLike
aw thank you Rachel – I appreciate you checking in very much x
LikeLike
today is my mother’s birthday. she had breast cancer she died 01 14 2011. she would have been 67
LikeLike
Sorry for your loss, I know what it feels like to miss a much loved mother. I lost mine in July to heart and lung problems and the one thing I will say is that society underestimates what it feels like.Not an hour goes by with out me thinking of her. I hope she knew how much I loved her.
LikeLike
I also lost my mom 6 months ago and there’s no single day that passes by without me thinking of her. I still cry a lot when I think of her and I just hope that it gets better with time as they say time heals all wounds. She died of sugar diabettes and she was only 45! When she was lying on that hospital bed,she was so helpless but it never occurred to me that she was leaving us,oh what a painful death! My siblings and I still need her, she was everything to us, I always wanted to make her proud and this led to me finding no reason to live because I thought no one is never going to be proud of me or my successes. Now her birthday is just around the corner, I want to celebrate her birthday in a very special way but I don’t know how. Any ideas?
LikeLike
Masetloboko, it only takes you to be proud of your accomplishments. Your mother will always be with you in spirit and that alone will help you to drive toward things she would have been proud to share with you. I only needed to read your passage to know this. Lite hugs to you in this time of hurt. ~D
LikeLike
Pingback: When Mother’s Day Hurts | Jacquie Garton-Smith