You Are Never Ready To Lose Your Mother

“Losing a parent is like losing a part of oneself” – Debra Umberson

Catherine Elizabeth Smit (5 September 1948 – 30 May 2019)

This blog is about zest for life. About things that add zest to life. The things that make life worth living. Delicious things. Fun things. Gorgeous things. It’s been weeks since I’ve been here, because my zest for life has gone. It sounds dramatic, but my biggest supporter, cheerleader, my mother & the kindest, least selfish person I’ve ever known is gone. And with her, so is my Joie de vivre. I do believe that my zest will return completely. It is in fact getting better on some days. But on most days my spunk is drowned out by extreme heartache.

It’s a heartache that feels like it can paralyze or even kill you. It sounds extreme, but it is (or at least feels) real. Many days over the last few weeks I have felt like not only the zest but also life was draining out of me. No motivation. No inspiration. Is it depression? Is it just grief? Is it normal? Is it post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)? Am I crazy or is this ok? Grief is real. The fact that my heart is broken is real. I am shaken to the core.

Does this mean that I don’t have support? Not at all. I have a kind, loving husband. The sweetest little boy. Amazing family. A solid group of really supportive friends, but  I actually just want is my mom. How can this make any sense? I am an independent grown-up. I do my own thing, have my own life, a family, my own household. Yet, I want my mom. Probably because she was the person that knew me from before birth. The one who really had all the patience, all the wisdom & all the love for me in the world. She was the one who prayed for us. Non stop.

The world around us almost makes us feel like it’s ridiculous to severely miss & mourn the loss of a parent when you are grown up. Isn’t it just the most natural part of life? Well yes. And no. Because although it is natural – like childbirth & adolescence – it is still hard & traumatic & absolutely awful!! And it takes time.

I started to research articles & talks on grief & death. This TED-talk about moving forward with death rather than ‘moving on’ is spot on. You will never get over the death of your mother. You will simply learn to live with the loss. Not only is she physically gone. Her voice is gone. Her smell. Her advice. Her prayers. Her food. Her messages. Her warmth.

In an article on GriefandSympathy.com Elizabeth Postle explains that it is quite normal for adults who lost a parent to suddenly have feelings like “I have nowhere to go” or “I am an orphan”. Losing your parent as an adult also makes you reevaluate your own life. The loss is so extreme because only a parent can care for & love you so intensely & be so deeply concerned about the wellbeing of your mind, body & soul.

I suppose we all expect to receive that call at some point. You might even have received that call & you know exactly what it feels like. Truth be told: I have really never given the fact that my own mother can die any thought. She was a constant. Such a given.

On 22 May 2019, I woke up from my vibrating phone, I see many missed calls & realise that something is not ok. I phone back. Then: “Mom had a stroke. It is not looking good.” First, my mind goes into “she will be ok, people recover completely from strokes, right?”

More calls. More bad news. My dad is in tears. I’ve never heard him cry. My brother-in-law is in tears. At 6pm the previous night, my mom & I had an upbeat 40-minute conversation about the amazing holiday that they were having. Everything was ok. Then, at 6am I was on a flight to Cape Town. In shock. Looking less than fresh but who cares. With the smallest bag ever but I don’t care what I look like. Within 12 hours things have changed so dramatically! I arrive at the hospital & her body is there, breathing, but she is gone. Many calls, loads of messages, waiting & wondering. Eventually, the doctor arrives & explains that the damage to her brain is severe & he suspects that she won’t make it for very long. A drawn-out week follows.

On the evening of Ascension Day, 30 May 2019, my mother officially departed to her Heavenly Father. Lucky her. Unlucky us.

It has been more than seven weeks, but the numbness remains. The extreme loss. Waking up crying. I dream about her. All. the. time. The extreme longing for her input, her voice, her kindness, her affirmation remains. Numb. The rug was pulled from underneath me. Numb. Like something, I have never experienced before.

SEPARATION (W. S. Merwin)

Your absence has gone through me

Like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.

For now, I am doing all the things: talking to a professional, taking the happy meds, doing creative things, exercise, laugh, talk about her. It is still hard. So hard.

But I believe that my zest will return completely. Soon.

Thank you for reading.

Yolandi ♥