Ever since I was diagnosed with an autoimmune illness, I have been thinking about my mom a lot. What would my mom think of this diagnosis? Would she be able to help me in more ways than I'm presently being helped? Would she be the person I could run to, and she would give me a big hug?
While I have many questions, I know that my mom would have been able to help beyond measure. Something about our mom makes us feel safe and at home. We automatically resort to the eight-year-old inside us and want our mom to fix everything. Even though my mom passed away almost ten years ago, I still think about running to her, telling her everything that happened, and receiving the warmest hug.
The rational part of my brain knows that she is gone, and I'll never see her on this side again, but I know I will see her again in Heaven. Will all my troubles here mean anything, then? I don't know, but I do know that I will find the same comfort in my mom that I did when I was that small eight-year-old child. Because, in truth, even as adults, we all still need our mom.
When I got severely sick as a teen, my mom had to take me to the hospital. While my mom and I had a strained relationship in the latter years of her life due to my eating disorder, my mom still stayed with me. She was the one who went back with me to the emergency room, and she held me up when I couldn't hold myself up. When I collapsed on the floor, it was she who picked me up and put me in a wheelchair.
Something was terrific about my mom and how nothing could stop her. At this emergency room visit, my mom had already been diagnosed with congestive heart failure. Despite this grim diagnosis, my mom had the strength to lift me and help me keep going. The strength she possessed was one that only a mother could have. Never since have I seen someone as strong as my mother.
My mom was one to get anxious and stressed a lot, but when it came to something wrong with one of my sisters or me, she would be calm. And that is precisely how she was in the emergency room. She didn't freak out or get scared. Instead, she was right there with me, keeping me calm. She never said, “Everything is going to be okay” because we weren't one of those families, but her presence and calmness helped me know that I would be fine.
Now that she has been gone for so many years, I also recount this experience. While it was traumatizing and led me to develop OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder—contamination type), I saw how much my mom loved me and cared about me. I've struggled with knowing this for most of my life, yet when I think about the day I was in the emergency room, it changes my perspective on the matter at hand. My mom did love me, even if she didn't show it in the most obvious ways.
My mom won’t return, even when I want her to be here with me more than anything else. This has been a hard pill to swallow, yet I know there is no fighting it. My mom has passed on, and I have no choice but to keep facing hard times without her. However, the Lord has not left me alone in my struggles. He has been with me through everything and has strengthened me. The Lord is our Good Shepherd, who will always guide us beside quiet waters (Psalm 23:1-6).
While it is true that we cannot talk to Jesus face-to-face, we can talk with Him in prayer. We won’t hear Him speak out of the sky, but we will hear from Him by reading the Bible. Going to the Lord in prayer, followed by reading the Bible, has helped me immensely. I still feel hopeless some days, yet the Lord can help me keep going. Through the tears and the pain, He has remained faithful.
Nobody is quite like our God. He is abounding in love, full of mercy, and not lacking in kindness. Knowing this helps us turn to Him more often. The Father, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit have become who I run to when I am in need. My mom isn’t here anymore, but God always is. Whether it is morning, afternoon, or night, He is there and ready to hear from me.
There have been nights where I say nothing to God, yet He knows precisely what I feel. The tears that fall down my face and the anguish in my heart do not go unnoticed by Him. When I pray to Him and tell Him I miss my mom, He doesn’t condemn me, nor does He make me feel worse. Instead, He has given me a safe place to express my feelings and be able to heal—and He is also a safe and healing place for you, too.
It is also important to mention that sometimes we also need professional help. This can be in the form of medical doctors and therapists. By working with a therapist, I have been able to work through my emotions of losing my mom and know what to do when the pain overtakes me. The interesting thing about grief is that sometimes it never leaves us, and that’s okay. I don’t plan on grief ever leaving, and in a way, I don’t want it to.
My grief helps me to remember my mom and to reflect on all the happy memories we have together. I will never be the same person that I was before my mom passed away, but God is helping me to grow regardless. None of us are truly the same person we were before a loved one passed away. The pain and grief have a way of changing us, and we need to know that it is okay. We don’t need to try to bounce back and pretend we are OK when profoundly struggling.
After the death of a loved one, I encourage everyone to seek out therapy, as I mentioned above, and to talk with a doctor. Sometimes, the grief can turn into depression, and depression needs to be monitored by a doctor. My depression was already in existence before my mom passed, yet it got a million times worse after she passed away. I had to see a doctor about my depression, and medicine has helped me improve.
Therefore, try to reach out for support. There is no shame in seeing a doctor or a therapist. In truth, we should be encouraged to see professionals because they can help us heal and move forward. We can be strong through the help of God and professionals and by working through things on our own. It doesn’t mean we won’t miss our moms, but we can keep going until we see them again.
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