I’m angry.  I am so mad that sometimes it takes all my self-control to not physically hit a wall, or not scream terrible things at other people so they can feel my pain. This hot red fire usually follows a time where I hit the bottom of my grief, where I have spent a few days feeling sad, crying, and just a general leave me alone attitude. It seems after that, I get mad, just hateful mad.  Lately, I have been going along so well that I started to believe that I was getting a handle on this grief thing. This bout of anger was bad. I have been asking myself why am I getting so angry? I have been doing a much better job with boundary work, I have been cutting toxicity out of my life, I have been more focused on self-care and healthcare, so where did this red-hot fire come from?

It all started after spending a few days of feeling the downward pull of grief. I cried more in those few days then I have in a while. I truly mourned the emptiness that comes from being parentless. I had some personal things going on and all I wanted to do was reach out to my mom and get her insight. When I realized that I couldn’t call her, I wanted to call Kim and talk it out, but I couldn’t do that. I grieved my role loss. I am no longer a daughter and I am no longer a best friend to Kim, and it sucker punched me. I have no role. My daughter is turning into this beautiful young independent woman and she doesn’t need me like she use to, so I am grieving the change in our relationship. Everything that I used to know as a daughter, mother and best friend isn’t there anymore. It’s different and I’m a mess about it. The night I really cried, I reached out to my mom and asked her to come visit me in my dream that night. Just a small visit so that I knew she was there, I just really needed her, I needed my mom. She didn’t show, and I was pissed.  Red hot anger.

The anger was raging toward my mom for not showing up and I wanted everyone around me to feel my anger. I was exhausted from the sheer strength it took just to be kind. I keep getting angry at myself for not being logical. Why can’t I be more logical and less emotional? Why do I have to feel so hard? I’m struggling with friendships, especially those friends who still have their mothers.  We have such little time with each other, and that time should be sacred. Some days I work so hard to not travel down the “if I had only…” road.  I find myself wishing for more time every day, even to the point that every night I want mom, dad, Kim to visit me and remind me of who I am again. I feel like a orphan.  

My dad visits my dreams every so often, he always seems to come when he feels that I need him. When I had COVID, he came one night and hugged me so hard it felt real. I think to myself, why does he come and not mom? Is it because I wasn’t there when he died, and I feel extreme guilt for letting him die without family with him? Is he trying to reassure me he’s ok? Because I sat with mom when she took her last breath, was she able to safely cross over without looking back? My mind races with these thoughts. They race constantly, so it’s no surprise that I am tired at night. As my thoughts race, my rage intensifies. I just want to see my mom one more time, I want to hear her voice and feel her guidance.

Could this really be about not knowing who I am? Have I always looked to my mom and Kim for my identity? How could I not look to them, they were strong powerful women. Women of faith, women who spoke up and defended others. I wanted to be like both of them. Now that they are gone, I must force myself to look inside and determine who I really am, what I really stand for, without their direct guidance or influence. Maybe my anger is because I don’t want to do it without them…

My daughter and I spent some extra time together this past week. I was telling her about my anger toward my mom. I was explaining that I feel abandoned by her, that she won’t come see me and comfort me when I ask her to. My daughter said, maybe she comforts you in other ways. I asked her how she knows mom is around her. She said simply, “the birds”.

On this day of my mother’s birthday and International Women’s day, I can’t help but not be grateful for the strong women who influenced my life. In reality, I know I’m not alone, I know I am blessed with my friends, and family, but it’s times like this that I miss the comfort of my mother, the ease of conversation with Kim. I grieve that part of my life so very much and I feel such anger that its gone. I want to feel my mom’s presence, see her face, hear her voice.  On my walk today, I spotted a beautiful little chickadee, and she was singing a gorgeous song. My thought went immediately to my mom, she loved the chickadee and she had a voice of an angle. I thought of what my daughter said when I asked her how she knew mom was close…the birds. I took comfort in that moment as I stood, watched, and listened the to the song of the chickadee. Happy birthday Momma.