Ruth Anne Saxon

Dear Mom, Many say that after all the “firsts” it is easier. I don’t agree with the notion that the second year of grief is easier. Why does it have to be? My opinion is that people think that the first year of grief fits in this perfectly planned out timeline. I don’t believe there’s a right or wrong way to grieve. I’ll admit Mom, right after your death that I knew was happening and why, I was in utter shock. I felt selfish to our family that I wanted you out of your misery for so long. I wanted YOU here, my Mom, the person that raised me and was my best friend. Once YOU made the decision of your fate I jumped back into denial. How could my intelligence understand and accept this was a decision that you needed to make for yourself but my heart be shattered? The first year I went through the motions. I masked my true feelings because I thought I had to act a certain way. I needed to “be strong” and push forward. Grief is not something people want to talk about amongst friends and after 13 months grief counseling ended because that’s the “prescribed time” for that service. The “normal person” has discussed the 5 stages and should be ready to go back into the world of acceptance. Let’s also not forget that my nest became empty simultaneously and I was left for all intents and purposes alone. Going through the motions became doable but the more I did the more I buried my true emotions. While hearing the “she’s in a better place” is meant to help me feel better, it doesn’t. The best place would be for you to be alive, healthy and here on Earth with your family. Hearing “she had a lot of underlying health issues” also doesn’t help. Obviously I knew you had underlying health issues, many not addressed properly by you or too late. All I can do with that information is motivate myself to become healthier so I can be my best version to be here for myself, my children and hopefully grandchildren one day. When someone says those things it dismisses my feelings even though I know that’s not someone’s intent. The profound loss of losing your Mother is not something I explain to anyone. Even someone else who’s lost their Mother won’t understand how I feel. You don’t know the interpersonal relationship that someone had with their Mom even if they try to explain it. That’s a very nuanced relationship and no two are alike. The second year has met me with challenges I never imagined I’d be facing at this point of my life. Challenges that have forced me to reevaluate myself, my relationships, my physical and mental health. Doing this without you has not been easy. If you were physically here I know what all your reactions would be. The trauma, betrayal, abandonment, upheaval all while still navigating life without my Mom. I never dreamed that not even one year after you died would the kids and I be betrayed in the manner we were but we were. The health issues I’m finally addressing are overwhelming. When you put yourself on the back burner it’s easy for it to all seem like it’s taking over at one time. You always told me to be strong. I told you I would be ok, I said it every day until the day you died. Moments after you died I admitted to myself I lied to you. I am not ok. I cannot always be strong and I don’t have to be strong for others anymore. I need to focus on me first. Memories flood back in therapy as a way to heal. The good and the bad. I remember how you’ve always loved me, always were there for me in all aspects of my life from childhood through adulthood. Even when you physically couldn’t anymore you were there for me. You were there for everyone. There’s so much that my now adult self wants to ask you and I can’t anymore. I think that’s what hurts the most right now. That even in this horrible part of my life I’m dealing with that I want you to tell me it will all be ok. I want your help in understanding where I came from to know how to sort through the present. I’m left with tremendous amounts of survivor guilt and unanswered questions. Resentment towards myself for not being capable of opening up sooner. The reality that this is the new normal. I don’t know how much time I have left but I do know that every day I will do something to remember you. I’ll never stop loving you and I hope you’re proud of me. I love you, Mom and always will.