Losing your mother at any age is a life altering event. It will change you even more when it occurs during developmental times in your life. Here in this morbid moment of discussing the death of a mother is where I begin the conversation.
On December 13, 2013 my mother, Cindy, passed away in a tragic series of events. I’m sure I will find the courage later in this blog’s life time to discuss all the details of the week that lead up to her death but that’s not the point of this post. It has been just over six years since that terrible day and I’m finally beginning the conversation. I’m beginning the internal, one-sided conversation with my deceased mother.
Due to my age when my mother passed away, just barely 17 years old, I have done my fair share of grief therapy. I’ve learned what feels like a million and one different ways to cope with grief waves as they hit. Of course, some of these coping mechanisms don’t work for me, they aren’t designed to work for everyone. But one coping mechanisms that I’ve struggled with the most is talked to the ones you’ve lost.
My dad is a particular fan of talking to my mom when he’s alone in the car. My brother has told me that when we first lost my mom he would talk to her as he fell asleep at night. I, on the other hand, could never get passed how empty these “conversations” left me feeling. Of course I can say things to the empty seat in my car but I’ll never get any of the meaningful responses that I would have gotten from my mother had she been riding besides me.
For quite some time I just avoided the conversational thoughts I had in my head that were only intended for my mom. I sent these thoughts to the back of my brain. That was until last week when I was driving home for work and I felt the unbelievable urge to call my mom on a number I’m sure has been long passed on to a new mobile user.
That’s how I got here, typing away at my computer, telling this blog about my sudden desire to begin a conversation with my six years dead mother. So buckle up, I’m sure it’ll be a bumpy ride filled with a ton of different emotions.
And Mom, I miss you!
Half A Conversation 