Yesterday marked 14 years since my mother passed away from cancer. For the past 13 years, that reminder has haunted me. Sometimes as early as Christmas time, my mood would change. I would feel the memories coming back. Our last Christmas. The shift from the events she wanted to live to see, to the events she didn’t want to die near.
As the anniversary of her death drew closer, the memories would become stronger. Her edginess due to the pain. The dogs pacing. The death rattle episodes that nearly cracked my siblings and I wide open with grief. Her book on the nightstand, forever stuck on the last page she would ever read. I even packed it away, just like that. I couldn’t bear to take out the bookmark. Getting the call the she had died 2 hours before I was due to return. The urge I had to call her at the exact moment she passed. Driving over like a zombie to lay beside her dead body until it was icy cold. The guttural cries at her funeral that took me a moment to realize were coming from me.
Every year that was my hell loop.
Last week I realized I was days away from the anniversary and I hadn’t experienced the loop. It was startling. It was then that I realized the true impact the last year has had on me. It has fundamentally changed me as a person. My beliefs, and the way that my brain works, are altered.
My Mom was one of my favourite people in the world. Her loss felt like part of me had died. Part of me was forever stuck in that series of moments.
I realize now that her passing has led to my own personal growth. Recognizing some of the struggles she faced to connect with me have led me to working towards healing my inner child. I have been able to turn inward and focus on having a positive relationship with myself. A relationship that will help me be a better partner, and a better mom. My favourite receptionist at work, the one I think of as a grandmother, said something to me the other day. She told me about how it took her so long to realize that some of the ugliest moments in her life had lead to some very beautiful things. Things she hadn’t even been able to fathom at the time.
I now believe that we all willingly sign a soul contract, an agreement before we live each human experience. My Mom had completed her life, her contract. My purpose wasn’t to stay stuck in a cycle of grief. My purpose wasn’t to leave part of my heart behind in the bed she died in. I could miss her, and still move forward.
When my path ends, and it’s my time to go, we will meet at my life review. We will see the moments of my life that added value. The lessons learned. The lessons taught. We will be reunited in a place where suffering doesn’t exist, and we are surrounded by pure love.
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