The Hope and Light She Left Me

My mother has been gone from life for what seems like eternity, however, some days it seems like I saw her beautiful face, smelled her Vanilla perfume in her hug, and patted her long black hair just yesterday.

It has been nearly sixteen months since she took her last breath. My mother, Carol, was a first grade teacher who loved her students as she loved my brother and I. The part she loved most about her job was that she “was changing students’ lives”. After her diagnosis of cancer, she struggled to go to work consistently which turned into her taking a leave of absence. It broke her heart. She fought the cancer as hard as she could. She was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. But, in the end, it took her.

During the months before the year mark, I felt like I was apathetically going through life and going through the motions---I really believed she would come back. To me, it felt like she was on vacation. I just couldn’t force myself to understand she wasn’t coming back home.

Once the year mark hit in February 2012, I realized that things were never going to be the same. I was never going to come home from school and find her sitting on the floor of our living room, sorting the first grade homework. I was never going to hear her lovingly call me “Missy”. I was never going to hear her blasting her favorite songs and singing on the top of her lungs while she cleaned the kitchen. Only in my mind do I hear these things. And it’s never enough.

Throughout the past sixteen months, I have felt every emotion imaginable. The journey of grief never gets easier. It only gets different. All is hard to deal with.

But I have hope. My mother not only left me with hope, but left me with a purpose. I have been a writer for as long as I could remember. She always encouraged me to write and was always eager to read my articles that were published in my college’s newspaper. She believed in my writing. She believed in my message---“to change the world through my writing, to help at least one person overcome their battles.” Now that she is no longer here, that message is stronger than ever.

There is a dark place on my heart, at the site where the piece my mother took with her when she departed this world. But as I realize her strong belief in my dream, that dark place becomes a little brighter.

I have learned that our loved ones have left holes in our hearts. Those holes can never be fully filled. As cliché as it sounds, we can help mend our brokenness with memories, love, remembrances, hope, and the light our loved ones showed the world. They are part of us. Our life is forever intertwined with theirs. The gift of being a light in our lives is something that can never be taken away. Be the best person you could be and go for those dreams. Don’t let the light dim out.