Seventeen years and counting

Seventeen years. That’s how long it’s been since I lost my mum. 7 January 2023 will be seventeen years since she left. It seems like forever, and indeed, it has been. It has been a lifetime without my mother. There have been many good things that have happened to me in these last seventeen years, and there have been some not- so great things that happened too. The one constant has been that in these situations, she has been very clearly missing and I have felt her loss right through all of them.

              It’s interesting to see how many people seem to say they suffer her loss on the same level as I do. It annoys me at some points, and at others, it amuses me. Some of these very people were afraid to come to hospital in case they caught what she had, not that she had anything contagious. Yet, they minimized their time in hospital with her, got annoyed with me when I made sure I would stay and said some very unkind things. I’m glad that I never listened to any of them. I don’t have regrets as a result, and I am so thankful to God. If I’d listened and not stayed by mum, my regret would be unbearable. Some told me off for how her passing left me. They said all sorts. From these, I’ve withdrawn.

I realise that as I’ve grieved mum, many things formed a part of what I grieved. Inappropriate requests made after mum died, things said to me because people couldn’t accept how I’d been brought to my knees, the lack of a space to talk about my mum after she died, etc. were part of a complex, complicated grief. These were insidious, painful, and very oppressive. All these subtle but painful extras added to the struggle I had in going to work and focusing. I was finding it hard to be the lawyer that I needed to be because my memory shut down and I had no energy in me. The whole thing was overwhelming. A counsellor I spoke to about grief helped me look at all these other things as secondary losses, the primary loss being my mum.

It’s interesting to see, when I worked on spelling things out, how much I really lost when mum died.

Seventeen years later, there are many things that remain lost. I never got back my legal career. There is something in me that is so completely changed, that has made this impossible. It’s hard to explain this. There are relationships which may be a little more repaired now, but which still don’t feel safe. I suspect they never will feel safe again. There are large chunks of my memory that are gone. My nuggets of history, football, lyrics and tunes of songs, movies, celebrities, books, etc. are all gone. In 2020, when we had a freak flood, I lost a whole load of things. The loss was sudden and rather broad. As I talk about the flood and recovery, I realise that there are many things I’ll never replace or be able to replace. The experience of the flood and the loss from it made me think about all these things I’ve lost since losing mum. For years, I tried to replace them. It was impossible to listen to every single song from the past or watch every single movie or read every single book – and remember everything as I used to. These are all gone.

My grief for a lot of these things that I lost has mostly diminished now. I’m okay with not being a lawyer. In fact, I am glad for the change in direction, the people I’ve met and things I’ve learnt as a result. Maybe less excited about what it’s meant to the wallet, but I’m not too torn by that these days. I’m reconciled to the fact that some relationships are just no longer the same. All things considered, I feel much better off with lesser or no interactions there. I’m okay not knowing a lot of the things I used to know. I may have picked up some other frivolities in their place. This is progress.

The only thing that remains is the loss of my mum. That hurts the same. That runs deep. That’s not going away. That much, I know.

Now, I am a Christian, as was my mum. If there’s anyone who played a role in my faith, it is her. I believe that she is at peace in Christ. Over these seventeen years, this has been a helpful, consoling thought. It has driven me further into digging in my heels where my faith is concerned. It has helped me feel relief at times when grief hits harder than usual and I find myself in tears. I am grateful to Jesus for this. Yet, it does not stop the pain of her loss. It highlights it. The more I consider how Jesus wept at Lazarus’ grave, the more I am convinced that we are right to weep over the loss of our loved ones, for such loss is so against God’s plan for this world. I am relieved that this loss, whilst it will be something I reckon with for the rest of my life, is still not permanent. There will be a day, when I rise, and it will be the end of this deep, deep pain in my soul. It will be an end to the reminder that is constantly there in my heart, and which feels more pronounced when there are family gatherings, special events, or changes, successes, or challenges in my life. One day.

For now, whilst it might be seventeen years for me without my mum, I want to recognise the loss of her for it is a great loss. Imperfect as she was, she was by God’s sheer grace, the perfect mum for me. I was given a wonderful blessing and I am immensely grateful to God for it. I am very sad that she’s been taken away from me so soon, but I also recognise that God has used her in her absence to teach me how to lean on Him. In that sense, there is a bittersweet feeling within. To my mum, this I say: it still hurts that you’re not here, even though it is now seventeen years that you’re gone. I miss the safety I had with you. I miss the chats, the laughs, and the tears we shared over everything. I miss you checking in on me. I miss your joy in me and in us. I miss the poise you bring to a gathering and the forwardness of thought you had. I miss how you missed your dad – I remember the last conversation you and I had about him twenty-seven years after he died. It was very soon after that you left. I miss your wisdom and maturity. I miss your love. I miss you mum. Seventeen years has gone by, but I miss you.