Grief is so much more than ‘I miss my mom’
Written by Abigail Rubando
It’s been a year without my mom. And I have to say, grief is so much more than I miss my mom.
Everyone wants to tie a messy thing like death up in a bow (including me)—to be grateful for what’s here, to believe she’s here with us, to find joy, to highlight your strength, to acknowledge… You must really miss her.
Yes, AND there is so much more than that. So many factors, layers, emotions that one has to navigate when moving through grief—especially when it’s someone as integral to your life as your mom.
Between all the missing, here are some of the often-overlooked—or maybe unknown—things about grief that hit me hard. The sides of grief no one talks about:
You don’t get over it. At every milestone, I am going to wish my mom were there. It will always feel like there is a hole. In every happy, joyful moment, there will be a tinge of sadness because she isn’t here to experience it. I don’t need to “move on” to keep moving forward.
Society is not taught how to handle grief. Many people don’t know how to show up for you. And it hurts, A LOT. Be awkward—talk about it. Ask others to talk about it. Cry in front of people. And yes, some relationships will be lost in the process.
It is such a lonely experience. This is why talking about it—regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you feel—is necessary. It feels like no one else in the world knows what you are going through. Find people who do! Grief groups change lives.
Anger. There is so much anger. Sadness is usually an acceptable form of grief. Anger, much less so. But it’s there in the stages of grief, even though people don’t talk about it. Mine shows up as resentment and then projection. Naming it has made it easier to catch myself—to deal with what’s really going on inside. And mainly, it’s that life feels unfair…
And that’s because it is. Life is unfair. We are all dealt this seemingly random set of cards, and inevitably, life will happen to everyone. Tragic, horrible things happen. There is no sugarcoating it.
How you grieve is going to upset some people. My mother was my mother. The relationship we had could only ever be known by me. And therefore, the way I grieve her can only ever really be decided by me. Everyone else is entitled to their own way.
It takes so much out of you. Grief is exhausting—physically, mentally, emotionally. You want to be present, to come back to normalcy, but your brain is constantly processing this new reality. To be present is a constant task of returning to this new life.
The trap of foreboding joy. After losing something so great, every joyful moment comes with the wind being knocked out of you because you don’t want to lose this, too. Gratitude is the antidote.
Grief sneaks in during the mundane. There will be times when you’re doing something so ordinary and you remember something about them so vividly, it feels like the light was sucked out of you.
You miss the you you were before this happened.
Your own pride can get in the way. It can keep you from really feeling seen, asking for help, or grieving fully. My perfectionism always wants to know if I am grieving correctly. Am I strong enough? Am I being too vocal, too “pity party,” too emotional? And if I surrender to grief, will I come back?
Grief is everything, everywhere, all at once. It feels like you are putting out a thousand little fires.