“I want my mom back!” Alice yelled to the heavens and no one in particular because she didn’t really believe in a god anymore, not after losing her mother to a horrendously painful terminal illness.
” I fucking want my mom back!!” she yelled even louder.
The earth did not shake.
The sun did not explode.
The stars did not fall from the sky.
Worst of all, her mother did not come back. And obviously never would.
So she reluctantly got on with her life, even though part of her did not want to. She strengthened her ties to family and friends. She read more. She tried to eat better and exercise. Se did things she had long neglected like writing and drawing.
But the feelings did not go away.
They came at odd times, like when she opened the hall closet to see a towel her mother had given her. Or when she tasted a string beef taco that reminded her of the ones her mother use to make.
She tried her best to avoid such reminders, but sometimes they were everywhere. And there was always that deep down empty place where the spirit of her mother had once been.
Then there were the well meaning but naive friends who said things like: “It’ll be okay” or “You’ll get over it” or “Everybody has to lose their parents some time”. These things of course just made her feel worse.
Things improved a bit when she met Cindy, a lady who had lost her mother eight years before. Cindy was real with her: “You’ll never get over it. You’ll stop thinking about her as much. You’ll hurt a little bit less. But it will never fully go away.”
“On the positive side,” Cindy quickly added. “You will find out new things about yourself. You will find ways to celebrate your mother’s life. And you will have changed for the better.”
It was hard yo believe, but she tried to believe it anyway, if only for the sake of having something to believe in.