Tending to my mom, while she was in hospice was very much like tending to my babies. It was all consuming, and deep. I did not know where I stopped and she began. I lost all sense of myself as a separate person for awhile. Time passed and I wasn’t even aware of how it was marking me. My life without her physical presence feels untethered…like I am floating in space and I can’t find my rocket. I can’t even remember where I parked it. During her illness I lost contact not only with myself but also with others. I still feel encapsulated and insulated. Slowly I am making my way back to life, but it is a very different life than it was before I learned the rules of letting go. Those are tough rules that make you want to hold on and hide at the same time. I did let go…I am still letting go…it hurts…its hard.

I miss Mama the way I missed my children when they grew into adults. They didn’t need my constant care anymore and I wasn’t sure who I was without that particular role. It took a while for me to rediscover me. Its taking time to do that again. Who am I without my mother? For all my life I was Sandra’s daughter. I am still her daughter, but I no longer can share her physical light. I miss her so much. I don’t think this kind of missing ever goes away, so I am learning to live with it.

Sometimes I cry because I want to show Mama, I want to tell Mama. Yes, I can still talk to her in my heart, but it is just not the same as seeing her, knowing for sure that I am being heard, hearing her voice…hearing her laughter. What I miss most of all is her laughter and the shine in her eyes. She gave me so much light. That light does shine for me still. It warms me and keeps me going. Thank you, Mama.