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What Tomorrow Looks Like For A Motherless Daughter



My day will look different than yours tomorrow

Tomorrow you will wake up and your Mom will still be here. The nightmare and fear of her not being there are just a distant thought. You will go through your day knowing at any point you can pick up the phone to call her. You know a listening ear and judgment free zone is just a phone call away. Tomorrow you will wake up and know that you can get in your car or get on a plane to be greeted by her warm hug and a thousand I love you's.

Tomorrow you will wake up and know something I don't, you will know what it's like to have your Mom.

Tomorrow I will wake up and count down the days, minutes and hours make up six years to find out how long I've been without mine. Tomorrow I will wake up and be reminded that it wasn't a bad dream but it became my reality six years ago tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll wake up and know I can't pick up the phone and hear her voice on the other end no matter how many times I dial her number. Tomorrow I will wake up and know she will never answer my calls. Tomorrow I will wake up and face the reality once again like I have for six years that I can't drive to her house or get on a plane to reach her because nothing travels as far as Heaven.

Tomorrow I will wake up and know something you don't, I will know what it's like not to have my Mom.

You will go about your weeks, months and years always knowing she is there. It will be automatic to invite her to events, plan holidays with her and include her in your life.

I'll go about my weeks, months and years no longer knowing that feeling of her simply being there. She won't be on the invitation list, she won't be addressed in the holiday cards and she won't be included in my life.

Tomorrow I will wake up and be hit with the reality that for six years and for forever I will have that constant reminder of my reality. A constant reminder of the one day out of all the others that changed my life forever.

Tomorrow when you wake up and you read this and can't understand this feeling or reality, go hug your Mom. Go call your Mom. Go tell your Mom you love her because my tomorrow could become your tomorrow any day.

Comments

  1. Replies
    1. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog.

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    2. Tiffany miller, I don't think nobody on here understands your pain, just like I can't relate to people who have not lost a parent to suicide, it's two different spectrums, one is fighting for their life and the other despises being alive, how could you relate. I have closure knowing that her last words were I love u. I have closure knowing it was my fault from the words in the letter that said " it's your fault". The furneal as your family members come up to console you and share their best memory. The furneal where everyone keeps their distance with whispers transpire into, " while if they only would of loved her more" fastforward 7 yrs later of nightmares of me trying to save her and ptsd thinking that it will happen again if I don't continue to live in this apolegitic bubble, " I'm sorry."

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  2. Actually tomorrow I will wake and know that mine was murdered two months ago come august 2nd and how I will never get over it and how each day they say gets easier we'll that's a lie it feels as if each day it gets harder and harder for me to cope she was my best friend I called her for everything, told her everything and yes I have other friends but your mother is your very first best friend and it hurts like hell shes a peice of me is missing and now it's hard to eat nothing appeals to me and it's hard to breathe some days I'm ok then Friday comes and it's like I'm given the news all over again so yes I will know what you know blogger but I also will know my mother was stolen from me was yours or did you have warning your moms time was coming see when there isn't a time line given by doctors you also know this thing called shock that throws you back and forth between reality and denial fridays do to ptsd I now know the reality of the pain loosing her causes my heart to feel and how all weekend I waited for a call to say just kidding she went on vacation which never happened denial returns you see I know the pain well thanks.

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    1. Oh Tiffany, I am so so sorry for the grief you are going through. Some days it feels like the breath has just been knocked right out of you. I can't even begin to claim to understand your kind of grief from the way you lost her. I know grief is grief but we all lose them differently and can't always understand how it feels. I didn't have a real warning with my Mom she was sick then she was "fine" in the cancer then the next thing she was on a helicopter because her oxygen levels dropped and then she was gone. It was the last thing I ever anticipated during that time or on that day. I can completely relate to waiting for them to call thinking it's all some mistake, that they aren't gone. I called the hospital back so many times and even had my husband call just to make sure they didn't get the wrong person. Even then I called her phone that day and the next few days, I waited for her to call. I am sending you a big hug and I want you to know that you are not alone, I know you might feel that way but you are not alone. Don't ever hesitate to reach out to seek help for how you feel. I know that if your Mom could be here to hug you or call you, she would be. Sending you such a big hug my friend.

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    2. I know what it was like and knew and prayed that my mother's time would come. Instead of a quick death, she suffered in horrible pain for 13 yes 13 years. I took her to every doctor and specialist I could ever think about. I gave away everything and sold everything except my house to care for her. I lived in her house 24/7 during the final years, still hoping for a miracle for her. I am or was an only child. After she passed on I had no one really to grieve with. I also had post traumatic stress disorder from watching her suffer and cry out in pain every day for the 13 years she suffered. It was like living in purgatory. No pain medicine really helped her. So I did have a warning that she was going to die, but I didn't want to let her go. She did have 1 good year though, of all of the 13 years, where she only needed Tylenol Extra Strength to deal with her pain. But then, she fell again in the bathroom and that was the end. I think everybody's situation is different. And there is no one I can call to talk to. I am crying right now as I am typing this. It will be 4 years on December 27th. Christmas is not the same for me, as they brought in the hospice bed and put her on morphine on Christmas eve and told me that they didn't think she would make it through the night. I demo'd my house. I planned on making it handicapped for her, as her condo had too many structural walls. Because I noticed her pain was not as bad when she was using a wheelchair. I could do that for her. Three months later she passed. It been almost 4 years now and the house is still empty and down to the studs. She was my best friend, and everything that Nicholette says in her blog are the things I experience with both my parents, not just my mom.

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  3. Thank you for your post. I understand this feeling, though I am not a daughter, but rather a son who lost his Mom two years ago as well, and suddenly at that. I mostly soldier on in a sort of, hard to say...gnawing drag? A lumbering pain? I don't really know what it is.

    And, I'm not a young guy. I'm 56, and never had children. My Mom was 73, and still working, running her own small business. When you don't have children of your own, in some ways, you still are "younger" or always "the kid." So, it sucks. I have a young wife who is now pregnant, and honestly, I wish I could just call my Mom. We have no family locally, though we do have good friends. I'm not one of those rich older guys...no, I have to work, and I'm blessed with a wife that loves me, and now with a kid, we'll make do I'm sure. But I so wish I could call my Mom and let her know she's going to be a Grandma, finally. She never had grandchildren. She'd have been great. I love her and miss her terribly. Something takes us all, I hope and pray there's a heaven for us. Thank you for sharing. Bud Fleisher/Florida

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  4. Having just lost my mom 3 months ago this is so very true and hurts every day. All I want to do is hear her voice and talk to her so badly. I miss talking to her so much and still want to pick up the phone everyday. Thank you for this blog.

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  5. I truly understand your pain. I lost my Mom 6 years ago. And to this day, it still hasn't gotten any easier. My Mom was fine one minute and the next she was having a seizure and being rushed to the hospital. Later I would find out that she had a brain tumor that was caused by lung cancer that had metastasized to her brain. Three months after her diagnose, we would learn that it had spread to her liver and adrenal glands. Three months after that, my Mom was gone. My father lives in Ohio and rarely ever speaks to me and brother lives in Georgia and he doesn't really speak to me either. So, in essence I feel I have lost all of my immediate family. My Mom was my best friend, my rock, the one person who was always there for me no matter what. There are days that I still just sit and cry because the pain is just too unbearable. I would give anything to have that one more talk, one more cup of coffee with her, that one more shopping trip, just one more anything so I could hear her voice or see her. Life is too short, love with all your heart, be kind and NEVER take life or family for granted.

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    1. Dawn I know how it feels to not only lose your Mom but everyone else it's as if the me before she died doesn't exist anymore as my father is here just not around and 7 brothers and sisters that I barely talk to....that life that I knew being raised with 7 was just a dream or something...

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  6. Dawn reading your story is like writing my own. My mother died the same way. She had a seizure due to a tumor and was gone a week later. It was 12 years July 9 and the pain is every second. My family situation is very similar also. I was missing her awful tonight and this blog gave me comfort

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  7. My six years is coming in 21 days. I hate August. It's a month filled with memories that are so painful.
    Your post is beautiful and spot on. I will be sharing it on August 19.....right before my "tomorrow".

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  8. I stumbled upon your blog tonight/this morning as I couldn't sleep. You took the words right out of my mouth, but just substitute mom for dad. Yesterday, Aug 22, marked six years since my dad lost his fight with cancer. I really struggle with my oldest daughter having so few memories of him as she was 2-1/2 when he passed away. My son was born two weeks after he passed away (turning 6 soon) and my youngest daughter is now 3-1/2.

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  9. Nine years in and I am here to tell you that it gets better. I still miss my amazing dad dearly. The empty pit in my stomach that existed for what seemed like forever is gone. I have my moments, songs and out of the blue pain of "I still can not believe he is no longer here" moments sometimes with such force its scary. But I still view life as a blessing and in my own way and time have come to believe and I am more than assured that he is still so connected to me. As I am typing to you right now his favorite song just came on, while listening to a station that would NEVER play this song? I can still see his face singing this song.....

    I also started a website when he died. It helped. "Grief Worthy" which eventually led me to writing a book. "Per Sempre Means Forever". He had an amazing story and message that had to be told. This was such a blessing to me because as I wrote I got to visit his life and spend time with him in some form and then put it all into book form. If you would like, I would be happy to send you a copy? Just let me know, roe@pltgrp.com.

    Seems like we are two loyal and loving daughters who felt a need to share their journey of grief. I hope in some way I can offer some comfort. It gets easier. They may not be present physically, but I know they are still with us for sure. Sending hugs.

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    Replies
    1. I know what you mean. Different words but I feel it too.

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  10. I feel the pain that you have suffered.
    I've lost my beautiful beloved mother to suicide
    Words cannot express the feelings that a person goes through while grieving.
    It hurts and I feel lost because I have not only lost my mother I've lost my best friend.
    My prayers go out to all who need them right now.
    The lessons she has taught me
    And the cherished memories will always remain.

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  11. Twenty years later it doesn't get better, it gets different but it doesn't get better.

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