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My mother died thirteen years ago on March 28th; and though my actual memories of the days and weeks and months and years that led up to her death have faded mostly, my feelings of sorrow are still right below the surface. Despite all those years that have rolled by, all those words I have spoken and written, I still feel a gap where she once was, which I can’t quite find anything to fill.

As the years go by, my feelings of loss have changed shape. Some years just hit me worse than others, and I have no doubt that my grief is exacerbated by whatever head space or stage of life I’m currently in. Some days are especially difficult: anniversary, birthdays, Mother’s days, family holidays and life milestones.

When someone we love dies, their body goes but their love remains. They live on through us, through the things they left behind and the memories they have made.

I have learned this: the magnitude and bottomlessness of the pain you feel is a testament to the love you shared. And while I don’t ever expect to arrive at a point in life where I’m alright with the fact that my mother is gone, I know that I am so, so lucky to have loved and been loved that much by anyone. Time does heal but there are scars left behind.  Loss is a lesson in being vulnerable; it taught me to treasure time and people.

I love you and miss you, Mom.  Thank you for the lessons and gifts you have given me during your life and during your afterlife.

love,

The Suburban Goddess Mom

AKA, Marna

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