For most of my life I longed to read a personal account by a woman whose mother died at a similar age to me. I wished to find myself, or a friend, in the pages of somebody’s story, to learn of their journey out of childhood and into womanhood without a mother. My memoir BRIEFLY I KNEW MY MOTHER explores how my mother’s prolonged illness, and death when I was eleven, shaped the course of my life and made me who I am today.
I’ve had some impactful realizations recently and these insights will improve what I’ve already written. They’ll clarify things for the reader as they have for me. This is how it is with writing. Especially memoirs. Since I believe in divine-timing maybe I needed to get to this place before my book was really ready. At the beginning I believed I was writing the memoir for Mam. I think she’d be proud of it, and I write it in her memory, but the story is mine. And the book is for readers who, for some reason or another, will find value in what I share. Mothers and daughters will recognize themselves – and each other – in these pages. It will resonate with fathers of motherless children, caregivers, teachers, therapists, and anybody who knows a grieving or suffering child.
It’s a lot of work to write a book, and there are many things I’d change about the process if I was to begin again. For one thing I’d make sure I had someone, a therapist maybe, to talk to while doing these emotional deep dives into my past. It has taken years for me to get to this place, and now I’m ready. Maybe 2023 is the year!
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~ Maya Angelou
Carmel Breathnach is a writer and former school teacher born in Ireland and living in Portland, Oregon. She holds a B.A. degree in English literature and Irish language studies from NUI Maynooth, and a Graduate Diploma in Education with honors from St. Patrick’s College, Dublin. Her writing centers on childhood grief and the long-term impacts of early mother loss. Carmel’s work has appeared in the New York Times, The Irish Times, Huffington Post, Upworthy, Scary Mommy, Voice Catcher, Modern Loss, Pendemic.ie, The Good Men Project, the anthology Hidden Lights: A Collection of Truths Not Often Told and on the National Alliance for Children’s Grief (NACG) website. She is currently querying her memoir titled Briefly I Knew My Mother.
Over twenty thousand readers have visited my 2017 blog post “10 Books I Recommend for Motherless Daughters” in search of books they might relate to, stories to inspire, guide and/or comfort them as they make their way in the world without their mother. Over 20,000 (and counting)!!! Gasp! This is only a small portion of people who have experienced grief, and yet it is a huge number. Of course I’m deeply sorry that readers are going through a difficult, perhaps lonely and confusing time, but I’m glad you found my blog. May these writers inspire, comfort and guide you. Be gentle with your heart and I hope you enjoy these books as much as I have.
Readers who have come upon my blog posts have expressed gratitude for the book suggestions I’ve shared, e.g. by authors such as Hope Edelman,Claire Bidwell Smith and Cheryl Strayed. It has been a few years since that particular blog post and in the interim more books have been published on the topic of mother loss. A few oldies came to my attention recently too, and I’m excited to share ten of my favorites here. Some of these books specifically address childhood grief while others discuss the loss of either parent or a close family member. I’m creating this blog post specifically with mother loss in mind.
This month is Children’s Grief Awareness month designed to draw awareness towards the needs of grieving children. Grieving children often go unnoticed. It appears they are thriving and in some instances they are but children who have lost a parent or sibling carry a burden many people have no idea how to address. Check out the book list below and visit these websites here and here for more information on children’s grief, and here for an organization which supports girls whose mothers have died. Check out these websites for support and advice on mother loss and the grief journey.
A unique and relatable graphic novel on mother loss. Tyler was a teenager when her mother fell ill and died. If you don’t already, follow Tyler on Instagram now. Her clever and colorful illustrations are poignant, humorous and brilliant.
When a young mother dies, leaving behind three little children & a spouse, everything changes in the blink of an eye. Peg was only 7 when her mom died & as I read these pages my heart broke for the author, her nurturing mom and Peg’s family. Losing a mother early in life creates many challenges and Peg shares her challenges with us in an honest, open and direct way. Her vulnerability offers many truths, truths that usually aren’t spoken aloud. The Art of Reassembly will be published on November 9, 2021 just in time for Children’s Grief Awareness day, and look at that gorgeous cover!
The Aftergrief is packed with stories, knowledge, useful new grief terms and insights about the long arc of loss. It is an easy and pleasant read. By quoting many experts in the field of bereavement and conducting extensive interviews with people who experienced grief in the past, the author shows us the various ways grief can surprise us, guide us, upset us and possibly even help us, as we make our way in life following a significant loss. Another gem by Hope Edelman.
“Many kids following a death experience difficulty concentrating or find themselves disinterested in school as well as other activities they once enjoyed. This makes a lot of sense to me. How interesting can academics be when you’ve just buried your father? How relevant can math feel when your mother just died?”
I SO relate to this & have shared stories on podcast interviews about my frustrated school teachers upset that, only a week after burying my mother, I couldn’t focus on my maths equations!
A unique and beautifully written memoir about mother loss, grief, domestic violence, race, misogyny and family. This memoir broke my heart. An important and powerful story.
Maxine Harris, an esteemed clinical psychologist, examines the lifelong impact of the early death of a mother or father. Harris explores the impact this loss has on every aspect of adult growth and development. For a child who loses a parent “Love and loss are no longer separate and distinct.” There is often “delayed mourning and a release of feelings that have been locked away for many years.” And this resonates personally for me: “the individual engages in a creative act or a life project that seems directly related to the loss and represents an attempt to master the experience of early trauma.” This might be why I’ve been so compelled to write my memoir BRIEFLY I KNEW MY MOTHER.
This beauty really surprised me. I bought it because, well I love everything Kelly Corrigan writes, but I’d no idea how much the stories would resonate. Themes covered beautifully in this book are loss, love, grief, childhood grief, mother loss and ovarian cancer. I cried more reading this book than I have in a long time. It’s full of hard truths, deep insights and gentle reminders.
Lori wrote this book in memory of her mother whom she was particularly close to and who was killed tragically by a reckless driver while waiting to cross the street. This book reminds us all of the preciousness of life, the tragedies that might suddenly befall us and the ways Lori fought to keep her mother’s memory alive. The chapter related to careless driving was informative, upsetting and eye-opening. We have a lot of work to do to keep our communities safe and responsible driving plays a huge part.
A different kind of book, with the storyline based on a plane crash resulting in the death of everyone but a young boy who must now forge ahead without his beloved mother, father and brother. This one is fiction.
This one is for children who have experienced loss, are terminally ill themselves or are curious about what death means. Suitable for ages 5+ this book is written by a grief and bereavement specialist at Texas Children’s Hospital and explores what death is and how it makes us feel. We want to avoid such discussions with children but it’s important to be open and honest and Taryn guides readers in a simple, beautiful way. “Remember that life is like a story. Just because the book closes doesn’t mean you forget what the story was or the way it made you feel.”
I’m preparing to query my own memoir on early mother loss, after over six years of writing and editing. The title is Briefly I Knew My Mother and it tells the story of my youth in Ireland, growing up with a terminally ill but determined and loving mother, a supportive, kind father, school teachers who had no idea of how to communicate with an anxious and (at eleven years old) grieving child and my eventual move to Portland, Oregon.
Visit my Instagram page here or my Goodreads page for more information on each of these gorgeous books, listed below in no particular order.
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
Carmel Breathnach is a freelance writer and former elementary school teacher, born in Ireland and living in Portland, Oregon. She holds a B.A. degree in English literature and Irish language studies from NUI Maynooth, and a Diploma in Education from St. Patrick’s College, Dublin. Carmel writes on the themes of childhood mother loss, grief and gratitude. Her work has appeared in The Irish Times, Huffington Post, Upworthy, Scary Mommy, Voice Catcher, Modern Loss and Pendemic.ie, as well as in the anthology Hidden Lights published by Golden Dragonfly Press. Carmel is currently working on a memoir about mother loss titled Briefly I Knew My Mother.
Today is World Cancer Day. I wish we didn’t need to have such a day.
My brother and I lost our dear mother to ovarian cancer back in the late 80’s. My father lost his beloved wife. Mam was a special, caring, optimistic, happy and creative woman. She was in her element being a mother. She loved my father. I wonder who might she have become had she been gifted with life beyond fifty? Because of cancer she missed out on seeing her children grow up. She never had the chance to travel the world with my father, or grow into old age by his side. It breaks my heart that cancer took my mother.
Galway, Ireland. Mother & children. 1977/1978
No doubt treatments have improved greatly over the years. Progress has been made and cancer treatments are less invasive, less traumatic, and success rates in treatment are higher than ever before. But there is so much more that needs to be done. We need to work for a cleaner, safer, healthier planet and we need to make people’s health a top priority. The health of all people, and our planet needs to take priority over greed, power and pollutants.
As I read through information and posts relating to World Cancer Day I’m thinking of my mother, Kathleen. The memoir I’m writing about losing my mother to ovarian cancer is almost complete. It’s titled Briefly I Knew My Mother, because I was in her life but for a brief few years before she died. In order to help raise awareness of this often overlooked experience of childhood grief, I’m speaking publicly and writing frequently about my personal experience of early mother loss.
Mother with baby Carmel
Also in my thoughts is a dear family friend who died last year after a brief struggle with ovarian cancer, a woman who was very good to my mother when she was sick. She, too, is missed and loved. And to all those who have lost their lives to cancer and to people struggling with the disease, my heart goes out to each individual and the families involved. Cancer is not an easy road. Some people beat it, some people don’t. It’s nobody’s fault. Cancer is hard.
The American Cancer Society estimates for ovarian cancer in the United States for 2021 are: About 21,410 women will receive a new diagnosis of ovarian cancer. About 13,770 women will die from ovarian cancer. It ranks fifth in cancer deaths among women, accounting for more deaths than any other cancer of the female reproductive system. A woman’s risk of getting ovarian cancer during her lifetime is about 1 in 78. Her lifetime chance of dying from it is about 1 in 108. These statistics are too high. More needs to be done. Urgently.
“World Cancer Day, organized by the Union for International Cancer Control (UICC) and celebrated each year on 4 February, is an opportunity to rally the international community to end the injustice of preventable suffering from cancer. This year’s theme, “I can, we can” acknowledges that everyone has the capacity to address the cancer burden. We can work together to reduce cancer risk factors. We can overcome barriers to early diagnosis, treatment and palliative care. We can work together to improve cancer control and achieve global targets to reduce premature mortality from cancer and NCDs.” (- World Health Organization) WHO has developed a Guide to cancer early diagnosis, to help policy-makers address barriers to and delays in cancer care.
Holding space in my heart today for all those impacted by this terrible disease. I hope we can figure this out before long, so that cures will become more common and treatments more widely available for all who need it.
“There is something about losing a mother that is permanent and inexpressible—a wound that will never quite heal.”– Susan Wiggs
“Today will never come again. Be a blessing. Be a friend. Encourage someone. Take time to care. Let your words heal, and not wound.” – Unknown
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I wrote an essay about mother loss and collective grieving in February of 2020. A prominent publication here in the U.S. thought it was an important piece and was set to publish it in March when the coronavirus pandemic swept the globe. As the weeks passed they pulled back, telling me their focus was now on COVID-19 stories and they no longer wished to purchase my essay. In honor of National Grief Awareness Day (August 30,2020) I’ve decided to share it to my personal blog because I think we should all encourage one another to talk more openly about grief, not less, especially during a global pandemic. With a few updates and edits, here is my piece.
In January 2020 I attended a Motherless Daughters’ luncheon in Pacific Palisades, Los Angeles, hosted by Hope Edelman, author of the bestselling book Motherless Daughters and upcoming book The Aftergrief. The occasion brought together twenty motherless women from several states including California, Oregon, Minnesota and New York. While gathered together for photographs on the beautiful grounds of Aldersgate Retreat Center we learned of an horrific helicopter crash in Calabasas, not far from where we were gathering. Several people lost their lives in the tragic accident including Kobe Bryant, a celebrity basketball player and his daughter, Gianna. Christina Mauser, a basketball coach and mother of three, also lost her life in the crash. Her bereaved husband, Matt, who was interviewed shortly after the accident, spoke of the comfort his eleven-year-old daughter gained from knowing that so many others were mourning along with them.
Every day people lose loved ones to illness, tragic accidents and age-related diseases. Now more than ever families are worried about COVID-19 and the health and well-being of people closest to them. When someone we love dies our lives are forever changed, trajectories once assumed and imagined thrown into chaos. As a young child, born and raised in Ireland, I became acquainted with uncertainty and death too early in life. My mother died from ovarian cancer when I was eleven years old, following a lengthy illness and suffering. How I responded to such an impactful loss has changed over the years, depending on various chapters and stages of my life, but grief and anxiety have followed me into adulthood, a relentless cautioning to remain alert to both the opportunities and the dangers.
I sat in a brightly lit, spacious room that particular Sunday in January, a mile from the Pacific Ocean, with women whose mothers are no longer alive. Gathered together to network and share our hopes and fears as we move forward collectively and individually, we discussed future projects, meaningful accomplishments and past challenges, all stemming from having lost our mothers prematurely. Seated on comfortable rustic chairs and couches, we sought solace, companionship and validation from others in our tribe. The Los Angeles sunshine streamed in through large windows, warming us as we cried together and laughed. It took several of us years to get to this place but we all recognize how incredibly lonely the grief journey can be and how helpful it is to discuss loss with those who share a similar experience. Loss can leave one feeling as though no one could possibly understand your anguish but the process of expressing grief outwardly with others can be transformative.
I live in Portland, Oregon where I write on the topic of maternal loss and for me, the deepest healing began in my thirties after I started writing and sharing openly about my mother’s death. Over the years I’ve had opportunities to connect with women of all ages whose moms have died and I’ve come to understand the power of collective grieving. As we wrapped up our Motherless Daughter’s gathering at Aldersgate Retreat Center, twenty women stood side by side in a circle. We had permission to honor our mothers in that room, to say their names out loud. Glancing around at the other women, I recognized their expressions of hope, relief and gratitude. Tears were shed when the group session came to a close and we promised to stay in touch with one another moving forward.
As I edit this piece on the eve of National Grief Awareness Day, my thoughts return to Matt and Christina Mauser’s eleven-year-old daughter, who sought comfort in her father’s arms and expressed reassurance in knowing they were not grieving alone. That little girl’s stunning articulation gave me pause. Unable to verbalize my grief feelings for a large chunk of my life, I gradually came to understand the healing nature of grief expressed. Whether it is shared on the page, with a friend or in a support group, grief expressed in safe places and acknowledged by others can be exceptionally validating. US actor Chadwick Boseman, best known for playing Black Panther in the hit Marvel superhero franchise, died of cancer on August 28, 2020. Fans of the actor and people who knew him personally are expressing their grief on social media. Collective grieving offers us a unique sense of comfort. People dive in, expressing their sadness while feeling buoyed by the empathy and compassion of those who understand.
Every day during this pandemic humans around the world are collectively grieving. There is comfort in knowing we are not going through this alone. People can reach out to each other, across social media platforms, in an email or a handwritten letter, or by picking up the phone. We can do this today on National Grief Awareness Day because speaking openly about our grief can create powerful human connections. Our honesty and vulnerability leads not only to our own healing, but the healing of others.
~by Carmel Breathnach
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
“Our house began flooding with constant visitors. We had night nurses on rotation who helped my father look after my mother but weekdays from 9 a.m. until 4 p.m. others stepped in. Not every friend or neighbor was able to dedicate several hours a day on a weekly basis to my mother’s care but in their own ways they showed up. Showering us with kindness during my mother’s illness people stopped by with flowers, home baked brown soda bread, apple tarts and biscuits. They dropped off cards, well wishes, mass bouquets and cake. Relatives from all over Ireland visited every weekend. My mother, cocooned in love, slipped away from us gradually.”
An essay of mine combining the story of my mother’s death when I was 11, with the outpouring of kindness towards my father that I’m witnessing-long distance-from the US, during the pandemic, was published in Pendemic.ie yesterday. The above paragraph is an extract from the piece. Read the entire essay “Reports of Striking Acts of Decency” here. All writing submitted to the site since March 2020 will be preserved by Irish Poetry Reading Archive at UCD Library.
We are all going through a tough, challenging time at the moment, grieving a life we used to live and freedoms we took for granted. Far too many lives have been lost and continue to be lost. My essay was written to show readers that there is hope, we can inspire and lift one another, we can offer love instead of hatred and fear. Each one of us has our limitations but we can reach out in small ways to make a difference. I remember kindnesses shown to my family over thirty years ago. No kindness or act of love is too small.
Be well. Stay safe. Stay aware. Spread the love.
“No kind action ever stops with itself. One kind action leads to another. Good example is followed. A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees. The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves.”
― Amelia Earhart
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
This year, 2020, Mother’s Day looks very different from previous Mother’s Days. Many people won’t be able to spend time with their moms, take her out to dinner, spoil her with flowers and chocolate, because we are all quarantined during COVID-19. This is sad for families. The pandemic is posing real challenges to everyday life. People are scared, anxious, grieving and we are all feeling uncertain about the future. Nobody knows how long this new way of experiencing life will go on. Personally, I’m living moment to moment and day by day, focusing on positive things and trying not to worry too much while taking the necessary precautions and checking in with the most vulnerable in our family and our community. For people who have lost loved ones during this pandemic, I am truly sorry for your heartache. It’s tough to lose a loved one, and even more devastating during this challenging time. We all need to take care of each other and offer kindness and friendship along the way. Healing will take time.
For those of us whose mothers have died, especially if we don’t have children of our own, this Mother’s Day won’t be much different to previous Mother’s Days, unless of course this is your first without her. We can’t take her out to dinner or spoil her with flowers and we don’t make plans to be with her on these occasions because she is no longer alive. I haven’t celebrated Mother’s Day with my mam, Kathleen, since I was a young child. Actually, Mam didn’t think much of the holiday, labeling it a ‘Hallmark Holiday’ and something made up by greeting card companies to make money. It was really after her death that Mother’s Day began to impact me more and more. My beautiful mother was missing in my life and everyone around me was celebrating theirs. I don’t like Mother’s Day and I’m happy when I can just ignore it. I think it will be much easier for me to do that this year.
At home in Ireland in my mother Kathleen’s arms
If you, a motherless daughter, are looking for ideas on how to celebrate your mom on Mother’s Day I wrote a blog post on this topic three years ago that has been viewed by over 55,000 people globally. This goes to prove just how many of us around the world are missing our mother’s presence from our lives. During quarantine while many of us shelter-in-place, a few of the 12 suggestions I offer on that blog post are obsolete, like meeting up with friends for coffee for example, though of course the ideas are still helpful and we can work with them. This year, due to the current situation, there are more virtual opportunities out there for us to explore.
I set to work on a new list today, researching and piecing together what I hope might be helpful for my readers. People will need help and support with their grief this weekend. I know there are broken hearts right now reaching for answers, wishing their moms were here in the world again. I hope this list offers some comfort. Another option of course is to seek out a good grief therapist and to discuss your situation with her. Grief is complicated and the journey takes a while. For now, here is my updated list of 20 ideas for this year’s Mother’s Day for the motherless.
1. empowerHER, a nonprofit for girls and young women who have experienced the loss of their mothers is hosting a virtual Mother’s Day Retreat May 9th + 10th and registration is free. The Retreat is geared towards girls up to age 24, but women of all ages are encouraged to join.
2. Reimagine is offering a worldwide virtual festival on embracing life, facing death, and loving fully in the face of COVID-19. There are several events throughout the weekend and beyond and I will list a couple of them below. Do check out the event’s schedule page as there is something for everyone here.
3. Find a time in the day, preferably morning to meditate for at least five minutes. Ideally about twenty minutes feels right for me, but do what you can. Light your favorite scented candle. Sit comfortably with your eyes closed and invite your mother into your space. Breathe. Hold her in your thoughts. Focus on the gratitude you feel for your mother and the gift of life that she gave you. Reflect on some memories you have of her. Let the tears flow if they come. Grief is love, remember. I use the Insight Timer app on my phone which is free and offers the most wonderful selection of meditations.
4. Display a picture of your mother in a prominent place. Wear a pendant containing her photograph throughout the day if you have one or carry a memory of her in your heart. Speak to her. Pray to her if you find comfort in prayer.
5. If you can go outside safely, purchase a beautiful bouquet of flowers for your mother and place them in your home. Or order them over the phone to be delivered. Flowers lend cheer and beauty to a space. They can remind you of the love you have for your mother and the love she had for you. Perhaps see if you can order your mother’s favorite flowers, if you know what those were.
6. As part of Reimagine’s Life, Loss and Love event, Portland author and all-round wonderful human, Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things (among other works), will be interviewed by Shelby Forsythia on Sunday MAY 10 at 11:00am-12:00pm PDT. Click on this link for more information. The event is free with a suggested donation.
8. Check out this list of 10 Books I Recommend for Motherless Daughters. Perhaps you can order some of these online, preferably from your local independent bookstore to help support them during these worrying times for small businesses. Or maybe you have one of these books on your bookshelf but you haven’t had the time to read it yet. Another option is to purchase these books in audio form. I love a good audio book to enjoy while driving or cooking. Allow yourself a few quiet reading hours in bed Sunday morning or settle into a cozy chair with a cup of hot tea or coffee and an author’s story. Maybe in her story you will recognize yours.
9. Create a collage using pictures from magazines or inspiring photo journals that you have around your house or apartment. Paste pictures that remind you of your mother onto a large piece of card stock or paperboard, or into an art journal. I did this once with the Portland Motherless Daughter’s group when I was the organizer, several years back. After thirty minutes or so working quietly on our collages we shared them with the others in the group. The collages were beautiful, colorful representations of our mothers. I still have mine.
10. If you have a bathtub allow yourself the luxury of some soaking time. Isn’t there something so soothing about nestling down into a bathtub, candles lit, maybe some calming music playing close by? Perhaps listen to a song that reminds you of your mother. It might make you cry and that’s okay because you are alone, taking care of your needs. Crying is often such a good release. I love to add a few drops of pure essential lavender oil into my tub and often this is where I meditate. Give yourself this time for nurture and relaxation. For those of us without mothers we need to find kind and gentle ways to take care of ourselves.
11. Read and share blog posts by other motherless daughters. My blog A LOVELY WOMAN has several blog entries about mother loss and many are specifically written for Motherless Mother’s Days. I also have a Facebook page where I post about grief regularly. Project Brave birds, hosted by my friend in Australia, is an inspiring page dedicated to celebrating the journeys and achievements of brave girls and women who have lost their mothers around the world. Without My Mum is an active private group page hosted by Leigh Van Der Horst where women share their feelings on mother loss and offer up support. Motherloss International is a Facebook page dedicated to maternal loss. Motherless Daughters Facebook community page shares many articles on mother loss including my own. These are valuable and loving places to go for comfort and support. My purpose in writing is to connect with others around the world who are experiencing a similar loss, in particular women and girls. I share the work of others widely on my social media platforms, always giving the authors credit, because each of us has stories that will touch people in different ways. The goal of writing and sharing for me, is to get this information out there, to those who need it. There is no reason for people to think they are alone in their grief process, or their experience of deep loss. Of course our individual experiences are unique but it helps to know that there are people out there who understand. Sharing our stories helps others. Sharing the work of others also helps.
12. Write. Write in a journal or on a page, just put your feelings out there. I like putting pen or pencil to paper. It feels more cathartic for me. Are you angry? Devastated? Lonely? Anxious? Write it all down. Or write something. You can burn this text later if you like, but it’s important to express your deeply held feelings. Writing is the number one thing that has helped me process and come to terms with my loss.
Putting pen to paper at home in my garden
13. Write a letter to your mother. This is therapeutic and can be a valuable exercise while grieving. Let yourself cry or laugh as you write & release whatever needs to pour from you. Is there something you really want to share with your mother today? Put down the words. It may even turn into a book! I’ve written a blog post about this called The Healing Letter where I offer writing prompts to help with your letter.
14. Call a friend who has experienced a similar loss to you. They might have more time to talk now that we are quarantined. Of course, the opposite might be true, but it’s worth checking in with them. Try not to feel rejected if they don’t take you up on a chat. Sometimes we feel like discussing our losses and sometimes we don’t. Hold compassion for your friend and try calling another person..
15. Zoom call with friends or family or a local support group. Perhaps create your own group Zoom call with other motherless daughters you know.
16. If you have a garden or a local park is currently open to visitors, take some time to enjoy the outdoors. Mother Nature is incredibly healing. I like to sit beneath the blossoms, inhale the fresh scents of nature, feel the soft breeze against my skin and marvel at this life we are given. I enjoy going for walks because they give me time to sort through my thoughts, figure things out or just let stuff go that I no longer need to hold onto. If you are a gardener, maybe planting some new flowers on Mother’s Day might be a way to honor your mom. You can watch them grow and think of her. Tending a garden is relaxing, rewarding and healing.
17. Perhaps prepare and cook one of your mom’s favorite dishes for mealtime on Sunday. Crack open a bottle of wine or brew some tea in her honor. If you don’t know how to cook that beloved dish of hers or you don’t remember what it was, cook a favorite of yours, or order a meal from a local restaurant, sit back and enjoy.
18. Do you love podcasts as much as I love podcasts? Because I tend to be a busy, active person, podcasts are a new way for me to slow down a little and relax. I listen to them while preparing lunch or taking a bath and sometimes my husband and I will listen together, snuggled up on our couch at home. Recently I wrote a blog post about some of my favorites pertaining to grief and mother loss. Check these out.
19. COVID-19 is presenting us all with many challenges. Some people are really struggling. A great way to lift your own spirits is by giving to others, if you can, what you can. There are so many opportunities for giving. Local and global non-profits need help. I suggest donating what you can to local grief support centers, organizations helping women who are fleeing abusive situations, non-profits aiding victims of child abuse, foster care organizations, refugee families, state and national parks, small local businesses, tribal nations…the list goes on. If anyone would like specific suggestions I can offer some in the comments below.
20. No matter what Mother’s Day holds for you this year, and for many I know it holds heartbreak, I hope you are able to show yourself kindness. From one motherless daughter to another, sending love and virtual hugs as Mother’s Day 2020 approaches. Take care of yourselves, and each other!
Much love,
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
One of my new favorite things are podcasts. I love that I can select a topic I’m particularly interested in, search for online discussions on that topic, say, the craft of writing, inspirational women’s stories or conversations around grief, and several podcasts will pop up for me to choose from with an entire thirty minutes to an hour dedicated to my chosen topic. During this pandemic when people are advised to stay home it is a perfect time to explore our podcast options, most of which we can access on our phones or laptops. We don’t have a television in our house and these days I’m avoiding the news and radio stations apart from those dedicated to music, because I need a break from overwhelming, unsettling broadcasts about the global pandemic. I stay informed but I’m selective, in order to keep anxiety and fear at bay. While we look out for the most vulnerable in our communities and make extra efforts to stay in touch with our loved ones, we must also practice kindness for ourselves.
One way to take a break is to schedule in an hour for yourself, some time in the day, where you can listen to a podcast episode. There are so many amazing podcasts out there, with talented, empathic hosts and I just love to tune in when I’m preparing lunch in the kitchen, settling down with a mug of hot tea in the evening or when I allow myself the time to take a warm Epsom salt bath. Sometimes I’ll play an episode while I’m outside tending to the garden or sitting on the deck as our spring blossoms burst forth. I welcome the soothing voices of these hosts and their guests and am eager to learn from their experiences. In this blog I’m delighted to share a few of my favorites. Although these particular podcasts aren’t specifically tailored towards motherless women, I think many will gain some level of comfort and wisdom from the episodes. I believe that anybody grieving the loss of a significant other will draw reassurance from these shared stories, and for people wishing to support grieving loved ones, many helpful suggestions are offered.
Here are five of my current favorites, in no particular order.
Host, Jenny Lisk, is doing a fabulous job interviewing widowed parents, experts in the field of grief and people who lost a parent when they were young, for her podcast. Jenny’s webpage is clear and accessible. She has a wonderful ‘Start Here‘ page where episodes of the show are clearly divided into sections, with guests’ names listed alongside numbered episodes. Episode 35 is a discussion with Allison Gilbert on keeping memories of our loved ones alive. In episode 54 we listen as Brennan Wood, Executive Director at The Dougy Center for Grieving Children & Families speaks about her own personal loss. And in episode 48 I tell my story of losing my mother when I was eleven and how her death has continued to impact my life to this day. There is something for everyone in this podcast including short “pandemic special” episodes like this one with Buffy Peters of Hamilton’s Academy of Grief and Loss.
2. Moving Beyond hosted by Psychic Medium Fleur and Grief Therapist Claire Bidwell Smith
This is a relatively new podcast and I love it. I attended a motherless daughter’s retreat with Claire a few years ago in Ojai and I’ve read and love all of her books. I’ve also seen Medium Fleur here in Portland, Oregon when she came to town for an event, the results of which blew my mind. In this podcast Claire offers tools to assist a person during their grief and then we experience a psychic mediumship session as Fleur connects each person with a loved one in the spirit world. I have not had a reading with Fleur but someday in the future I hope to. Check out this podcast if you’re curious about the after life. It’s both comforting and mind-blowing.
Sarah Shaoul has a beautiful, gentle voice and I could listen to her interview guests for hours at a time, and I have. I’ve listened to a few of these episodes back to back as Sarah thoughtfully raises questions about lessons associated with guest’s experiences. Each episode is varied as this podcast explores the different ways people grieve with a focus on the gratitude that allows us to keep going following a loss. In this episode Frances Badalamenti discusses becoming a mother as she loses hers.
I know most of you already know who Brene Brown is. Professor, lecturer and author of several best-selling books, Brene has spent her career studying courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy. But did you know she has a podcast? And it’s so good! This particular episode with grief expert David Kessler, reveals what he has learned about love, loss, and finding meaning in his grief. An enlightening, comforting episode, I intend to listen to this one again and again.
5. Grief Out Loud hosted by Jana DeCristofaro and produced by The Dougy Center for Grieving Children & Families in Portland, Oregon
The Dougy Center provides support for children, teens, young adults, and their families grieving a death. They offer support and training locally, nationally, and internationally to individuals and organizations seeking to assist children in grief. This illuminating podcast offers a wide mix of personal stories, tips for supporting anybody grieving a loss and interviews with bereavement professionals. There are so many episodes worth listening to here, but if you are looking for one that addresses mother’s day, as it fast approaches, try episode 13 titled Grieving Through Mother’s Day. Edit update: Since writing this blog post I’ve been a guest on this wonderful podcast. Episode 177 is where I talk about The Relentless Nature of Grief.
I hope you find these interesting and helpful! Let me know in the comments below what you think and please feel free to share some of your favorite podcasts on the topic of mother loss and grief. Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
Take care, Carmel X
“The most basic of all human needs is to understand and be understood. The best way to understand people is to listen to them.” Ralph Nichols
My mother is dead and I still want to talk about her, but that doesn’t mean I always want to talk about her. I don’t want friends who read this thinking they should bring up Mam during every conversation as a result of this piece. Obviously, there’s no need to bring her into every discussion, so, before you decide to run in the other direction when next we meet, for fear of not knowing whether or not to bring up my mother, please read on.
Before I began writing about my experiences of early mother loss I didn’t have many opportunities to talk about Mam. At home, with my father and brother, I could talk about her all I wanted. They were always open to sharing memories, answering questions and thumbing through photographs with me, and this has helped a lot down through the years. But, the thing is I wanted to talk about Mam out in the world too. For several years I didn’t speak about her, because it’s hard to bring your dead mother into casual conversations. People feel awkward when the subject of death comes up. They don’t know what to say or how to respond. Discussions fall flat, the floor is now incredibly interesting and someone has to suddenly dash off to an unexpected appointment.
All those times in my life when companions or classmates got to celebrate their mothers or complain about them, casually call them on the phone and laugh with them in my presence, I too, longed to talk about Mam, but couldn’t. What was there to say anyway? It hurt to the core. So, now I’m writing about her and through the stories I’ve shared people have gotten to know Kathleen a little.
I write to keep my mother’s memory alive. As long as we say their names, the people who have died live on. I also write to connect with others who are familiar with this kind of grief. It’s important for me to build community with motherless daughters and especially with women whose mothers died when they were children. Women have come into my life since I started writing about motherloss and they too are eager to talk about their dead moms.
On March 2, 2020, thirty two years after Mam’s death, I posted one of my favorite photographs of my mother on social media. In the picture she is glowing, offering the photographer her radiant smile. Beneath the photo I wrote a few lines about it being her death anniversary and to my delight I received many kind comments from readers. A few messages touched me deeply. If I have given others an idea of who my mother was, this long since her death, I have accomplished something significant and worthwhile. Writing about her and sharing special memories of growing up as her daughter, allows me to feel connected to my mother. I carry her with me in this world everyday.
I wish Mam didn’t get sick and die when I was a child, and though I want to tell stories with her in them, I don’t have an abundance of tales. I remember more than most of my friends remember from my childhood, yet it’s not enough. I know little to nothing about Mam’s earliest years or when she was a teenager. Who was she before she met my father? My only perspective of my mother is from my childhood memories. This is one of the heartbreaking things I hear frequently from women who lost their mothers early in life. We want to hear stories of our mothers from those who have them. Shared stories are a gift to both the teller and the receiver.
My friend, Mari, posted a comment beneath the photograph on March 2. She offered simply and with such heart “I’m so sorry that she died – and so grateful for the life she gave you.” How beautiful to receive a direct, love-filled message like this! As one of two founding members of the Grief Rites Foundation, Mari is not afraid to use the word “died”. My mother died and we can say the word. In all the years since Mam’s death less than a handful of people have actually said “I’m sorry that your mother died.” I didn’t realize this (and I write about grief and death regularly) until I read Mari’s comment and it made a powerful impact on me. I knew she got it. She understood. We’re getting better at grief talk.
As with every blog I write I hope something on this page resonates with my readers, those of you who have lost a loved one and people looking to know how to support a grieving friend. A listening ear is a gift, a few minutes to talk, a chance to process something out loud. When you speak from a place of love and acknowledge a person’s situation honestly, you are doing it right.
“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.” – George Eliot
Carmel Breathnach is a writer and former school teacher born in Ireland and living in Portland, Oregon. She holds a B.A. degree in English literature and Irish language studies from NUI Maynooth, and a Graduate Diploma in Education with honors from St. Patrick’s College, Dublin. Her writing centers on childhood grief and the long-term impacts of early mother loss. Carmel’s work has appeared in the New York Times, The Irish Times, Huffington Post, Upworthy, Scary Mommy, Voice Catcher, Modern Loss, Pendemic.ie, The Good Men Project, the anthology Hidden Lights: A Collection of Truths Not Often Told and on the National Alliance for Children’s Grief (NACG) website. She is currently querying her memoir titled Briefly I Knew My Mother.
In the past three days alone, several people from countries spanning the globe visited my blog pages to read stories of mother loss & grief. In search of books by women/girls whose mothers have died (always the most popular search), gathering ideas for honoring mom at their upcoming wedding & reading of how others have lived beyond a mother’s death, these individuals are grieving a loss while simultaneously moving towards thriving. My blog stats offer (minimal) information about the diversity of readers, the searches entered into Google & the questions posed by people all over the world (obviously no specific details are given, just age demographics, country of search etc.) & while it blows my mind to see readers from across the globe it also reminds me of how connected in love we humans are.
In the past three days women & men from Afghanistan, the UK, Greece, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Ireland, Malaysia and the USA have clicked on my blog page. What powerful message does this bring? Grief is ubiquitous. Not one person alive won’t experience it. Anyone who comes to this blog is feeling a deep sense of loss & longing, a need for connection and advice on how to get through the challenging journey following a loved one’s passing. People want uplifting stories that might help encourage them and allow them to feel less alone in their journey. Love (& grief which is love with no place to go) is the common thread connecting each one of us, obliterating our differences.
Our stories are powerful. Vulnerability births connection.
Everyone here is going through something. Every human being across this planet loves, & everybody knows the pain of grief, or will, someday.
Mother loss is traumatic at any age & throughout our lives most people will experience it. For a child to experience mother loss (as I did when eleven years young) the trauma lingers & weaves its way in & out of our everydays. It’s necessary to talk about this stuff. Otherwise it lodges in our cells & causes debilitating pain. It is not a secret that we grieve & it is not something to be ashamed of.
Our sisters & brothers across this earth are reaching out to gather encouraging stories as they navigate loss. In just the past three days I see how many of you are here, reading my words, possibly in search of a piece of your story in mine. Our stories are unique and personal to us, as our healing journey will be, but the common thread is love and those of us who have experienced the death of a loved one can truly empathize.
I am honored & humbled to have the opportunity to share my story with people who need to read what I have to say. I’m grateful to have an online platform that somehow reaches individuals in these countries & the far corners of this incredible planet. We are all in this beautiful, painful, challenging, joyous place together. Experiencing the death of a loved one is excruciatingly painful and healing from this loss takes time and work. In my experience there’s no closure. The wound heals in time but reopens depending on circumstance. Life carries us forward, however, and we learn to live our fullest lives. Take your time with healing. Seek comfort in nature, words, stories, people’s kindnesses and know that you are not alone in feeling this type of pain. All over the world we are witnesses to heartache. I see you & because of this my heart is full this morning as I wish you all peace in your grief, love and safety and the strength to carry on as you navigate the rocky and meandering road ahead.
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Today (August 11th) is significant for two reasons.
Mam & Dad married on this date at home in Ireland in ’73. I have a photo of them on their special day enlarged and framed in our home. The picture represents happiness, genuine love & beautiful promise. Coincidentally Dad & I were the same age (39) when each of us got married. (We both waited patiently until we found ‘the one’.) In 1988 my mother died. Sometimes I glance through my parent’s wedding album. The photos, mostly in black and white, reflect so much joy and hope. My parent’s union was built on mutual respect and a devotion which saw Mam through her illness, my father by her side.
This next photograph is of me and my Granny on our birthday in Galway. I think I might have been 7 years of age in that picture. We shared the same birth date, January 3, and always celebrated together. This is the second reason for today’s significance: on this day (August 11th) 30 years ago Granny (Dad’s mother) died suddenly. I was only 12 when she was taken from us, the year after Mam lost her battle with cancer.
So, in my early years I came face to face with happy, celebratory occasions & brutal, devastating days. I knew what was possible. Life was often terribly sad. Honestly, I feel hard done by having lost so many significant people at such a young age. It’s not easy to admit that but it’s true. Often people go through life surrounded by close family & a tight community of loved ones who share a history. Those of us who learn trauma in our youth carry it inside of us even as it appears we are thriving. In fact loneliness, anxiety and fear are part of our everyday lives. Loneliness specifically for our loved ones who have died. We also tend to be sensitive, compassionate and alert and appreciative of people and moments. But we always crave our people. My mother is irreplaceable because she was my mother & she loved me in a way only a mother can.
Life is complicated & so are our emotions & our reactions to our experiences. We get on with things but we never get over major losses. We simply do our best to be our best. In honor of my parents, my beloved mother and Granny Walshe, I try hard to live my best life. Granny & Mam faced several challenges of their own but they were both strong, capable and happy women. They are an inspiration to me & I am grateful to them for everything. I just wish they were still here because I’ve been craving some maternal hugs from those women whose lineage I descend from. It has been over thirty years…
This is all to say let’s look out for each other and try to be patient in the face of trauma and grief. Keep an eye on those little sweethearts who lose a significant person early on in life. Please be there for them if you can. Create a space for them to talk or just be themselves. They are scared and in shock and they will need a lot of support. Also, if you do still have your folks and/or grandparents and you love them, let them know, or go spend some quality time with them. And, if you know someone who has grieved and lost try not to assume that their people are replaceable. They are not. And they won’t ever get over the loss. They’ll get on, but they’ll be sad about it, forever. Some days or occasions will be more challenging than others. Their reactions to certain things might stem from their early losses. You might see no connection but the connection is obvious to the bereaved (or sometimes it isn’t).They are angry but the anger might look like something else. It’s complicated.
You never know what’s going on in another person’s life. Let’s be gentle with each other and ourselves. Our hearts continue to love every day but this powerful organ is also fragile and often bruised. Kindness goes a long way.
Some of us hold a store of sad anniversaries in our hearts, significant dates that circle around year after year. We don’t know what to do with these dates or how to acknowledge them. Today I’m honoring the memories by writing about it. I’m remembering my parents and their beautiful, happy day. I’m thinking of Granny and how in the photo we wore the exact same colors though it wasn’t planned, and how thrilled she was when I was born on January 3. These days of interesting coincidences carry sadness for me, but also joy and gratitude. Captured in these pictures are moments filled with delight, hope and surprise. Each one of us lives for moments such as these, every moment creating a unique life and offering us precious memories. I reflect on the memories and each is rich with love. For that, and for so much else, I am grateful.
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
Do something helpful. Be of service. Doing practical things
such as laundry, picking up groceries or washing the dishes for your friend is
often what makes a difference.
2. Send a thoughtful card in the mail
There are no expiration dates for sending cards in the mail. Often
it comes as a small blessing to receive it later because
your friend is still grieving and everyone else has moved on. Make it
loving and personal while avoiding useless clichés.
3. Bring them food
Your friend needs nourishment. Let her know that you are
dropping food at her door and continue to do it for as long as you are able,
after other people have moved on.
4. Remember important dates
Take note of those dates that your friend will never forget:
anniversaries, birthdays and holidays, and pick up the phone or send a message
to let them know you are thinking of them.
5. Speak the deceased person’s name
It is a blessing when a friend refers to a deceased loved one because we keep that person’s memory alive in recollections of their time with us. Your friend has not forgotten them, show him that you haven’t either and say that person’s name.
6. Let them talk. Listen
Bear witness, and allow your friend to be upset, angry, or to
say nothing at all. Offer your compassion and presence, not a solution. There
is no solution.
7. Be mindful
Sometimes people want to help but they don’t know what to say. Grief is messy. Be sensitive. What would you want to talk about in similar circumstances? What topic might be difficult for your friend to discuss right now? Watch your friend for cues. Pay attention to their body language. Or just ask.
8. Be patient
People often need to sit in the darkness for a while. Be a
kind friend and sit with them.
9. Recall memories
If you have a memory of the deceased person, share it with
your friend. It helps to recall moments of joy or hilarity. To a grieving
person it is a gift.
10. Make introductions
When the time is right suggest some online support groups to your friend, or give him the name of a highly regarded local therapist. If you know someone in similar circumstances introduce them. It can be of great support to a grieving individual to meet new people or other families with similar experiences.
11. Continue to show up
After everyone else is gone be there for your friend. She is still grieving.
You can do this & together we will make the world a more loving, open, caring place! Hugs,
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
Several weeks ago following a public reading where I read an essay I had written about childhood mother loss a young woman approached and told me, through tears, how optimistic she felt on seeing me read in front of so many people. It wasn’t just the story I had written, she said, though it really moved her, what she felt most optimistic about was seeing me, apparently doing so well today, following such a traumatic loss in my early life. I thanked her and told her I appreciated her coming to the reading. She nodded, clearly upset and I realized there was more to her interaction with me than I initially thought.
“My best friend just lost her battle with cancer,” she blurted. “Now, there is a little eight year old girl without a mother.”
“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that,” I responded, my palm automatically moving to my heart.
“Yes, it’s very sad. Every day is a struggle. But your reading gave me hope. To see you stand up there, after all these years and to hear you express yourself, what you went through, so articulately…I know she’ll be okay now.”
I thanked the lady and told her how sorry I was for her loss and for the little girl’s loss. I wanted to tell her if she needed anything to let me know, but sometimes it’s difficult to do that with a stranger because people are private and wish to deal with things their own way. Also, there isn’t a lot I can do because I can’t bring a mother back and that is all anybody really wants. I mentioned my blog and my FB page where I post regularly on grief and mother loss. I don’t know if she has visited either but I think of our interaction often. I’m glad my essay moved that lady, and gave her hope. We often have no idea in any given moment who needs our stories the most.
I’m glad the little girl has a caring, nurturing woman to look out for her. I hope they are thriving in this world that manages to break our hearts wide open with sorrow while continuing to gift us with tremendous joy and love. The lady told me that even though the girl is only eight she loves to pen stories about her mother. It was my turn to shed a tear. Her mother will not be forgotten.
Many children draw or create art from pain and sadness, as we adults do. One little boy I had in Kindergarten a few years ago drew his way through his father’s terminal illness. And when the little boy came to visit me after transitioning to first grade he carried with him a picture of his dad, drawn in yellow and brown crayons.
“How is your dad?” I asked him, taking the picture into my hands and admiring the portrait.
“He died,” he said simply.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching out and giving the little boy a hug. “How are you?”
“Okay,” he said, before quickly changing the subject. He told me I could keep the picture. I knew he wanted to tell me about his dad but it was easier for him to show me a drawing than tell me straight out. Art is a way for our hearts to speak when words can’t explain the depth of our grieving.
That little girl will have her own story to live and tell, as will that first grade boy, as I have mine, and you have yours. We carry within us a blend of such sad stories and very beautiful ones.
We are all tremendously resilient. Spread your wings and fly loves! Or crawl at first, if that is what you can manage. Take a deep, deep inhale and let go. Drop those shoulders. Pick up a pencil. We inspire others by being brave and sharing our creations. I’ve learned, and continue to learn so much from humans of all ages and walks of life. I’ve always believed in my inner strength and knowing. I have known heartbreaking sadness and I’ve experienced life’s most precious joys. Don’t give up story-makers, dream-creators, resilient beautiful beings! We’re all on this Mother Earth together and we can help each other. Now fly!
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
Every day I am inspired by the kindness and sincerity of individuals wishing to offer support and compassion to those hurting and grieving online. Yes, I am referring to the internet, where there appears to be no end to the cruel mean rants of trolls and other nasty, insensitive folk. But when I take time to visit inspiring online support groups and individual pages where trolls are blocked and safe spaces abide I witness offerings of empathy, compassion and reassurance. This is encouraging.
When somebody close to us dies and our lives are in turmoil we aren’t looking for people to make things better. What we need is people who are willing to admit that life is hard, to sit with us in the dark, to call and check in, to let us know we are in their thoughts. Sometimes people don’t have friends in their lives who understand the grieving process and here is where the specific support groups online allow for connections and understanding between folk who ‘get it’.
Spending time with our grief and allowing for all types of feelings is a key part of the healing journey. You don’t need to know how you are feeling when somebody asks. You don’t need to have any answers. Your answers will change from moment to moment and day to day. There is nothing linear about the grieving process. Some days will whisper beauty while others will overwhelm and send floods of tears. Your heart is broken; it is okay to take as much time as you need, and it’s okay to not have things figured out.
People who are capable of offering empathy, kindness and understanding are a gift to those who carry a weight so heavy they cannot fathom how to get through the darkest hours. Phone-calls and check-ins, plans to get together and letting a friend know you are there for her if she needs to call are all ways to make a difference to someone who is sad and mourning. It helps a grieving person to know that she is being thought of, especially months down the line when most people have forgotten or think she has forgotten the loss.
My mother died when I was eleven years old and I continually revisit things I thought I understood about death and grief. There are so many layers to loss and grieving and I am still peeling back those layers more than thirty years on. I think of my mother every day and I still miss her though the floods of tears are rare now. I went through a period of crying a lot. It came years after my loss. It came upon me completely unexpectedly. I cried through the confusion and anger and wrote grief onto the page. The darkness of losing my mother to ovarian cancer when I was so young continually pushes me into the light and through writing I work to reach others who have lost someone they love. I want to let them know they are not alone and they too will get through the heartache.
“Where we’re broken…that’s where the light comes in and the love leaks out.” – Anthony Martignetti
The process of grieving takes time and nobody should feel under pressure to move through it quickly. It just doesn’t work that way. Grief therapy can be very helpful for some people and a number of online support groups exist allowing people to voice their heartbreak to a network of people who understand loss. It is heartwarming to read the sincere, encouraging messages from others who can empathize. Strangers can reach out across oceans to offer words of comfort to those in need. What a beautiful thing!
Much of the deep grieving we must undertake alone. We need to sit with the darkness and pain, to allow it, to sob it and scream it and feel the deep down aches in every cell of our body.
It isn’t easy.
It is very painful.
But the light that is you will find its way to the surface when you are ready.
~Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
Recently an article I wrote about a moving grief connection I had with my L.A. Lyft driver was published in Modern Loss. I wrote and shared that story “Mother Loss and My Lyft Driver” because the powerful, albeit brief, conversation the Lyft driver and I had has stayed with me since, and the interaction occurred two years ago. Hesitant to talk about my writing career when the Lyft driver asked me what it is I do, I mentioned only that I am a writer, hoping he would move on from that and ask no more questions. For those of us who have experienced the death of someone close to us, we understand the feeling of awkwardness and discomfort that comes with relating a loss. We don’t want to make anybody feel bad as we explain how we’ve lost one of the most important people in our lives. We don’t want to ruin anyone’s day, or be a Debbie Downer.
But as more of us write about our grief experiences and talk about death more openly we are seeing that the majority of people do really want to talk about a loss they have suffered. Since writing the story “Mother Loss and My Lyft Driver” I have experienced another grief conversation in a Lyft, also in L.A. with a young lady who brought up the topic herself. When I asked how her day was going she told me she was in a lot of pain. Her back was giving her trouble. I asked if it was related to work but she said it was mostly a result of stress and grief. I listened as she opened her heart to me on the drive to LAX. Her beloved father had died a couple of years before and her mother died when she was a child. This young lady moved to the USA from Syria when she was seventeen and was now trying to make a new life for herself. She was struggling. Before I got out of the car at LAX I told her that my mother died when I was eleven and so I understood her sorrow and pain, although it was different to mine. She put a hand to her heart and started to sob. I offered my card explaining that I write about mother loss and grief and I encouraged her to contact me if she needed to talk more. I said I knew people; grief therapists and councilors who may be able to help her. She thanked me and placed my card in her purse. I never did hear from her but I still think of her and I hope she is doing okay. Perhaps by allowing her the time to talk, by listening to her story when she needed to release so much helped in some way.
The Lyft driver I wrote about in my published piece wanted to talk about his loss also. Words of nostalgia and love for his dead mother poured from him as he drove me to my hotel that sunny day in L.A. I believe we both felt better after our grief chat.
Sometimes people don’t feel like talking about a loss. That’s understandable. There are times when I want to talk about my mother’s death and times when I don’t. But I now believe more folks than we think long for a safe space to grieve, to share memories of their loved ones passed and to be granted the opportunity to revisit these memories whether they bring tears, comfort or laughter.
And if you are a listener all you need to do is that; listen. You really can’t get that wrong. By listening you are acknowledging another human being’s pain. That in itself is a true gift to give somebody.
As Cheryl Strayed once said “Compassion isn’t about solutions. It’s about giving all the love that you got.”
Listening is one way to give love.
And as my friend Emily, who also understands loss and the sidestepping of grief conversations said “It’s refreshing and builds connection when we lean into these conversations.”
So let’s refresh and lean in to grief conversations together.
Carmel X
(Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.)
“Is Carmel afraid of death? No. Is Carmel afraid of what may come after death? No. What is Carmel afraid of?
Lucy has her eyes closed as she poses questions to the healers and spirits from alternative dimensions, messengers who connect with Lucy in her healing room when she calls upon them. She must ask the right questions in order to receive the correct answers…”
I’m honored to have a prose piece I wrote, titled Witnessing Carmel, published in VoiceCatcher today. The article is centered on childhood mother loss and it’s lasting effects, the persistent anxiety that follows and a deep down desire to heal.
It’s not an easy thing to spill our hearts onto paper and show our vulnerable side to a world of strangers, but it is through truth telling and sharing our heart stories that we reach and connect with other hearts, and so I keep doing this.
Two years ago, in June 2016, I had the pleasure of working with Hope Edelman and Jennifer Lauck at Blackbird Studio in Portland, Oregon. Back then I was editing my memoir A Lovely Woman and I attended the weekend writer’s course to receive guidance and encouragement from two spectacular authors of memoir, Hope and Jennifer. Both have written about mother loss and grief. The experience of working with other writers, the majority of whom shared similar themes to my story: grief, mother loss, trauma, hope, love and connection, was a worthwhile, emotional and joyful experience. I formed life-long connections at that workshop, learned a lot and received valuable insights through the sharing of our stories.
I have always been a writer. I’ve kept a daily diary since I was ten years old, months before my mother died. I write every day and though that writing isn’t always in the form of memoir my life-long experiences continue to shape my words. As the late and much respected Portland author Ursula K. Le Guin said:
“We are volcanoes. When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains.”
I am grateful to VoiceCatcher for appreciating my voice and publishing my truth story. In Witnessing CarmelI detail a particular occasion when I went in search of healing and discovered something profound that I’d never fully understood. Anxiety around illness and death has followed me into adulthood from a young age, but it’s understandable, as Lucy the healer tells me, it’s completely understandable.
(Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.)
When my mother died in Ireland in 1988 I did not know a single child (other than my older brother) whose mother had also died. Every child I knew had a mother and that meant I was different. I had nobody to talk to who understood what it felt like for a little girl of eleven to have lost her mother. As I’ve previously mentioned in my writing I had, and still have, a wonderful, supportive and loving father in my life who was happy to talk about my mother and keep her beautiful memory alive in our home. I am the capable, loving, independent person I am today because my father stayed by my side, guiding me and loving me through it all. I will always be grateful for him.
That said, it is refreshing to see an increase in the number of grief support groups online and an acceptance and appreciation of what these groups offer. Vulnerability is no longer seen as a weakness. People who wish to share their stories of heartbreak and loss now have several platforms from which to share. I often receive messages thanking me for my blog posts and though I’ve never met most of these people I can now see that there are people who understand. I had no idea that so many women lost their mothers when they were young children because back then I knew of nobody my age or even a little older, in my position. Now that we are all more connected through technology I see how our heart stories help others. Our experiences can guide and empower those who feel alone and afraid. Why should people feel alone in their grief when death and grieving is a natural part of the life cycle?
We shouldn’t feel alone. It is devastating, anxiety-producing and lonely to lose your mother as a child. Until we talk about it we carry that trauma around in our bodies. The more we talk openly about death and loss the better a society we are. I wrote BRIEFLY I KNEW MY MOTHER, my memoir-in-progress, to show others what a child’s journey through anxiety, mother loss and grief looks like. I turned out okay. I got through school and I earned two college degrees. I taught young children in elementary and kindergarten for thirteen years and I am married to a wonderful man. I’m happy and grateful for the life I have. But there have been struggles over the years as a result of losing Mam. It’s helpful to find your tribe.
If you haven’t yet found an online grief support group following your mom’s death or if your friends can’t relate to your feelings, or if you just want to work through this grief period alone for a while, here are some suggestions for getting through Mother’s Day.
Online grief support groups and pages dedicated to grief and loss are popping up and thousands of people are joining them. More people are open to sharing their heart stories while offering support and comfort to fellow grievers. These communities are welcoming and supportive. Here are a few of my favorites (I include my own pages in the list):
A Lovely Woman is where I blog regularly about mother loss, early childhood loss and grief.
My Facebook author page offers support, inspiration and healing to women who have experienced mother loss & to all grievers worldwide.
Hope Edelman has a website dedicated to her work in the field of mother loss and grief. On her site she lists statewide support groups for those missing their mothers. She also has a public Facebook page where she shares a wealth of information and stories pertaining to grief and loss.
Modern Loss closed group for the Modern Loss community.
OptionB.Org offers the tools you need to build resilience after grief and trauma. There are opportunities here to join specific groups for solidarity and support and find information from experts.
Project Brave Birds is a page run by my friend Cheryl where the journeys and achievements of inspirational motherless women are celebrated.
Meetup.com offers an opportunity to find or organize your own Motherless Daughter group. I found the Portland group through Meet Up many years ago and became organizer for one year.
The Imaginary Library on Instagram is one woman’s beautifully illustrated and relatable grief-journey.
Claire Bidwell Smith is an author and grief therapist. Claire frequently shares personal stories of her own grief journey on her beautiful Instagram page.
Suggestions for Mother’s Day weekend include:
Try writing a healing letter to your mother on Mother’s Day. It might allow you to feel closer to her, and less alone. I give some suggestions on how to attempt this on my blog.
See if any of these book suggestions might help. Make yourself a warm cup of tea, settle into a cozy chair and put your feet up. Some of these books will make you cry, others will allow you to feel less alone. All of them helped me in one way or another.
Hope sometimes hosts a free 30-minute conference call for motherless daughters the day before Mother’s Day. Check out her page for details.
Motherless Mother’s Day Ceremony to be held in Portland, Oregon. Suggestions for participation are given on the page for those unable to attend in person. Or perhaps hold your own.
Sending big hugs and lots of love to you this Mother’s Day. Notice the soft breeze on your cheek, listen to bird song in the trees, take time to breathe and give yourself some sweet care. Listen for the whisper of your mother’s voice. Her love is with you today and always. Speak to her. Place your hand on your heart. That’s where she is.
Much love,
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process. Check out my rated books here on Goodreads.
The following TEN points may seem obvious. At least they do to me, but since we are all human and nobody is perfect I’ve decided to put this list together. Also, the first thing on my list happened to me today bringing to my attention that people need reminders every now and again. In fact, all ten points have happened to me, many of them on multiple occasions, so if you know all of this already please feel free to share it with somebody who doesn’t. It might prevent an awkward or upsetting situation from happening in the future and we all strive to be better people, right? I, for one, know that I’ve much to learn from others and their personal experiences. That’s one of the many reasons I read memoirs. When we immerse ourselves in somebody’s story, tapping into the struggle of another human being, we get to exercise our empathy muscles.
Here are my suggestions.
TEN things NOT to do when someone you know has lost their mother:
DO NOT email a motherless daughter gift advertisements for Mother’s Day. I know, unbelievable right? Even so, it happened, and the person knows my mother isn’t alive. Just what I didn’t need in the mail. The message on the ad stated “Pamper your mother this Mother’s Day”. Really? Please don’t do this. It’s bad enough that our inboxes are automatically bombarded with these kinds of advertisements leading up to Mother’s Day.
DO NOT invite them to your own Mother’s Day event and expect them to be in a cheerful mood for the entire party when everyone around you is celebrating the wonder of mothers and those who have them. (If the motherless daughter is particularly close to your mother, then this may be a different case, but please ask them sincerely if being at the party is where they want to be). I hear from women all of the time about how hard Mother’s Day events are for them, but they do it to please a partner or keep others happy.
DO NOT post publicly about missing somebody who has died, on a date that is significant and meaningful to that person and their family, without a) asking permission of the grieving relative or person closest to the deceased b) referring to the grieving person and their own unique and significant pain and c) requesting that people connect with the grieving person on her page or privately. Posting about missing somebody after a death is a beautiful thing if the family has given you permission or if you were extremely close to the deceased. Please be mindful as to your approach. It’s hurtful to be tagged in someone else’s post about your own mother and follow along as they receive condolences throughout the day.
(In connection with above post) DO NOT offer your condolences to somebody for their loss on another person’s page and simply assume, or hope that she’ll see it. A personal message, a kind gesture offered in private (rather than on someone else’s page) is more meaningful. Check to see if the bereaved person has written something of her own, describing her personal journey and offer a genuine response to that.
TRY NOT TO FORGET significant dates, in particular death anniversaries, Mother’s Day and birthdays. Mark them on your calendar and make that call. Often it will only take five minutes. We can’t all remember significant dates for everyone. I get that. But if you have a very close friend or family member who suffered a major loss surely that date is etched in your brain? No. Then maybe take note and write it down in order to remember. What do most of us look for in a genuine lengthy friendship? I would say we wish to be thought of and held in that friend’s heart. Well, this includes being thought about on tough days like the anniversary of your mother’s death. We want to know that our friends haven’t forgotten our most challenging life experiences. Offer a kind and sincere thought on the anniversary of a rough day. Believe me, it makes a difference.
DO NOT tell a motherless daughter that you wish you didn’t have to spend the day with your annoying, cranky mother. Just don’t.
DO NOT compare your loss with somebody else’s. Grief is one of the hardest things life will ever throw our way. Losing a loved one changes us, and our lives forever. I feel deeply for any person who is grieving. For motherless daughters Mother’s Day can be miserable. The bombardment of advertisements telling us how we should pamper and celebrate our mothers when we no longer have them is heart-wrenching. For women whose babies/children have died it is a cruel reminder of a massive loss. The day is tough on widowed parents, terminally ill mothers and families where a terminally ill mother is fighting for her life. Let’s not compare one loss to another. This has happened to me, on several occasions for example in another story of mine. Pain is pain. Nobody wants to lose the person they love. We are all in this life together.
DO NOT, if you are a teacher or a grown up, assume that a child has their mother at home. I still can’t believe how insensitive my teachers were following my mother’s death. “Take this home to your mother!” they would say, handing me a note for home. I would look at them in disbelief but they would continue on down the classroom aisle with no thought given to what they had said. These teachers were well aware of my loss. We were from a small town and my school was small. They just didn’t think about what they were saying or it didn’t matter enough to choose their words with more care.
DO NOT tell a motherless daughter they should be over their loss by now. It doesn’t matter if it’s a year, twenty years or fifty years, we never ‘get over’ losing our mothers. I have dear friends who lost their mothers forty and fifty years ago and they still miss and long for them. I lost my mother thirty years ago and although the passage of time heals in some ways I’ve never stopped missing Mam. I’ve longed for her throughout my life at different periods such as when shopping for my wedding dress and other random moments.
BE MINDFUL of speaking in a group about the blessing of having a nurturing, loving mother while a friend who is motherless sits listening. I am in no way suggesting to daughters (or sons) not to celebrate and cheer on their mothers because any love expressed is a beautiful thing. It warms my heart deeply to see mothers and daughters interact in loving ways. I wrote about the beautiful mother-daughter bond here and here. Be considerate, is what I’m saying. Two former friends gushed about their mothers in front of me one day. We had just returned to the college campus after a weekend at home. They described everything their mothers did for them, how nurturing they were and how much they loved them announcing “Where would we be without our mothers?” Granted I was blessed with a gem of a father so I could have shot back ”Where would we be without our fathers?” but my heart hung heavy by that point, not only as a result of being reminded of what I was missing, but because my two lovely friends forgot what I could never forget.
If we are more mindful in our interactions with friends, if we take the time to consider how we would feel in a particular situation and if we make the effort to learn from those who have gone through challenges then we’ll do just fine. I promise. And sincerely I appreciate all the love I receive on a regular basis since beginning this very personal journey of sharing.
Previously I wrote a piece on how to be present for someone who has lost their mother. If I can help comfort another woman or give ideas to those who want to do better for a grieving friend then I’m doing my work. I saw this picture on Instagram recently by Mari Andrew, a writer and illustrator based in NYC. I relate.
If you are interested in finding more tips or advice on how to help a grieving friend or someone going through a really tough time pick up a copy of this book by Kelsey Crowe and Emily McDowell. It’s packed with great advice.
Much love,
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
On March 2nd, 1988 my dear mother, Kathleen, passed away from ovarian cancer, at home in Ireland, where I was born and raised. I was eleven and my brother was a couple of years my senior. It’s hard to believe it has been thirty years, and yet it does seem like a lifetime since my mother held me close.
My family stuck together through everything. In this way I feel fortunate. Dad, grieving but kind and present, guided us through the tough times with a gentle, open heart. We didn’t see therapists or read books on grief, we just plowed forward with determination and love. I don’t know if there were therapists around town in those days. Nobody spoke about therapists and the thought just didn’t cross anyone’s minds. We weren’t familiar with grief books either, though I was curious to find one about a little girl my own age whose mother had died. Concerned about puberty and worried about how I’d tackle female issues without my mother I wanted a friend who understood, even if that friend was a character in a book whose story was similar to mine.
I never did find that book. It wasn’t until adulthood that I came across a book on the subject of mother loss. I’ve seen a therapist on a couple of occasions but grief counseling has not been effective in my case. It can be of enormous help to some people but just wasn’t what I needed at the time. Or perhaps I didn’t find the right person. Maybe the timing was off. I’m not sure.
Growing up I could talk to my father about anything and I relied on him for love and consistent care. He never let me down. We often spoke about Mam, and we still do. Permitted to look through her things, wear her clothes if I wished and explore her belongings, it brought Dad happiness to witness my continued love for my mother. Every day I wear a ring of hers, gifted to Mam from my father. On my wedding day in 2016, along with my mother’s ring, I wore a beautiful brooch of hers embedded in a unique hair set made locally for the occasion. We keep the memory of my much-loved mother alive to this day by displaying family photos around the house. We were able to move on with our lives, creating new experiences and memories, while treasuring openly the woman at the center of our lives.
It’s hard to imagine that my mother is gone from us three decades now; a vibrant, beautiful spirit in her healthy days, and a courageous, kind human-being during the tough years. These past thirty years have been a real mix of ups and downs. For those of us who lost a loved one early in life we are constantly riding the unpredictable waves of emotions. In the first few years I focused on school, drama classes and my friendships. It felt important to me to stay strong for my family’s sake. Genuinely happy many of those days, I had great friends and a comfortable home, albeit without my mother. School was not my favorite place and as the years passed my anxiety there increased. Even as a child the focus in school was placed on listening to teachers, very little creative expression or physical movement and chastisement for any little thing.
I didn’t understand it back then but I experienced a sense of relief following my mother’s death. After watching her suffer for so many years we were exhausted and often frantic with worry. The progression of her illness broke our hearts. For six years we hoped and prayed that she would get better, but she didn’t and there was a lot of pain during those years. When Mam died I was broken-hearted, but eventually the weight of anxiety fell away. This is a difficult thing to explain to anybody who hasn’t watched someone they love suffer for a long period of time and it’s even harder to admit to ourselves. Now, after all of these years I long for even one more minute with her. What a miracle that would be!
Going through puberty posed challenges for me and I wanted to ask Mam so many questions. My friends and I surmised and speculated about things but I longed to ask Mam about girl stuff. I wanted to know what her responses would be. My friends told me I wouldn’t ask my mother private things even if she were alive, but I knew that I would.
Unexpectedly, in my mid twenties I experienced deep sadness and regret over not having the relationship I saw other women my age enjoying with their moms. I craved maternal comfort, and I knew my mother, a nurturing, loving person, would have graced me with that unconditional love. I believe my grieving truly started then. In my studio here in Portland, I would suddenly break down and cry at her memory. I felt terribly hard done by. It was during these years that I sought out energy healers and psychics. A few of the female healers appeared to have the ability to connect with my mother’s spirit and the readings offered much comfort. During these sessions I felt certain my mother’s spirit was close. Shortly after this time I began writing about my loss and connecting with other motherless daughters.
There are times when I feel deep pangs of sorrow and I wish Mam had been granted a much longer life than what she was given. Today, she would be eighty years old had she lived. But I allow myself to think and talk about her every day and writing about her over the years has really helped me process her death. I started this blog two years ago on this date and am happy to have connected with so many motherless daughters who have read and related to what I have shared. We all have our own stories, but we find comfort in the connections we make through writing. I’m working on my memoir Briefly I Knew My Mother to honor my mother’s memory while helping others understand the long arc of grief.
People ask if it will get better or easier over time, if they will ever stop missing the person they loved and lost. My mother died thirty years ago and I can say this; things do get easier eventually, the weight of loss does lighten, but the void will always be there. I’ve never stopped missing Mam and I’ve missed her in varying ways. Some years have been harder than others. Why particular years were more challenging depended on phases and experiences in my life and so our grief journeys are not linear. Some moments are heavy and sad, while others are filled with beauty and joy. Life is but a collection of moments. Getting through a moment is easier than getting through a day or a week or a year. The key is to try and find something beautiful in a moment and go with that into the next. Hold your person in your heart, keep them in your thoughts, but live as best you can in each precious moment.
The sadness we experience in grief is borne out of the love that grew within us for that particular person. Love is a tremendous gift. My mother and father showed me the true meaning of love by caring for the other deeply and in their unconditional love for their children. I keep a photograph of my mother in a beautiful vintage frame on a table in our hallway alongside a scented candle, fresh plants and a bowl of lavender. I pass this area frequently, glancing at Mam’s smiling happy face as I carry on with my day. Her spirit is with with me, I can feel it. No, it’s not the same as having her here in person; chatting together over a cup of tea, but it’s a comfort to me nonetheless. Mam has a prominent place in my heart, to this day, thirty years following her death, and a prominent place in our home.
Much love,
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
We can’t go back in time. We can only move forward. Moment to moment. There is no changing what has happened no matter how much we want the outcome to be different. And in standing still, which we may do for a while, there can be no growth. Our bodies and spirits gravitate towards recovery and healing so eventually we must move in that direction, but it can take a long time, and a lot of effort. How do we activate our healing when all we want to do is cry? When all we want is for the person we have lost to reappear and hold us and tell us everything is okay, just as it was before, but better because we now know what it feels like to lose them and the most amazing feeling ever would be to have them back.
Well, crying is a good step. Crying is a release and it is healing. I didn’t cry all that much in the first decade following my mother’s death. I cried in the second decade, and into the third. So, I know that grieving is a process and that it can present itself throughout our lives depending on circumstances. I’ve lived some of the happiest days of my life in the years since my mother died, but I’ve also lived black days. Days where I couldn’t stop crying, staring at the photo of Mam on my fridge, imploring “Where are you? Are you here? Why did this have to happen to us? I neeeeed you!”
This is the journey of life. The days of cherry blossoms and playful baby goats; warm sunshine kissing bare skin; a comforting hug from someone you love; the fragrance of spring in the violet-blue hyacinths on your coffee table, but also, the sorrow that wells up inside you when the scent of nail polish takes you right back to the days of sitting beside your long-dead mother as she delicately painted your tiny fingernails.
What do we do? We move forward, reaching for the pleasant gifts of life. We must, if we are to survive.
Cheryl Strayed quoted her mother in her stunning book ”Wild“ when she said:
“There’s always a sunrise and always a sunset and it’s up to you to choose to be there for it,’ said my mother. ‘Put yourself in the way of beauty.”
Is it easy? Not always. Is it possible? Yes.
Following tragedy we will never be the same person we were beforehand. Gathering all of the shredded pieces of ourselves together we gradually become who we need to be as we take our next steps. We learn as we go along, figuring out what works for us, facing adversity head on and sometimes crying. Moment to moment.
Throughout my life many of the universe’s gifts have inspired me to step from one moment into the next. After my mother died it was my father’s love and devotion towards my brother and me that kept me afloat. His love for us gave me something to hold on to. I didn’t lose all hope in the world, though my innocence was shattered at an early age. One caring and devoted adult in a child’s life can make all the difference. My brother and I were blessed with a wonderful dad.
I had close friends in school who cared about me and the laughter we shared, even on the toughest days, allowed a lightness to enter my being when otherwise it could not. Laughter is an instant release from those thoughts that cause pain. One of my closest friends, Tara, could always make me laugh. I needed her compassionate spirit close to me in school following my mother’s death, and we gravitated towards one another no matter how much our teachers tried to pry us apart. I will never understand why it was more important to my teachers that I concentrate on my math or my writing than it was that I laugh with my pal in the aftermath of such tragedy. My work was exemplary. I loved to write and read and my teachers had no reason to worry about that side of things. School granted me a chance to interact with my friends and I needed those interactions. I was only eleven. Plenty of time for austerity. Laughter is one of the best prescriptions for wellness. As a teacher of young children I laughed a lot when I was in the classroom with them. I encouraged laughter and joy more than anything. What a gift little ones are! They remind us to pay attention to the simplest of life’s blessings.
Making art, creating, writing, dancing, singing; all of these things can save a person. Find that which your soul is drawn to and give yourself the time and space to dive right in. Art lifts you out of the analytical thinking left brain and drops you into the expressive, imaginative right brain where you can let go of the pain for a while. Writing has always been my go-to and when I gave myself the time and permission to write about Mam’s illness and death in Briefly I Knew My Mother a weight so heavy and burdensome lifted. My mother loved to dance and sing so these activities not only bring me joy they bring me closer to her.
I know that sometimes none of this will seem to matter. We are too heartbroken and devastated to consider stepping towards anything that removes us from thinking of the person we have lost. There are times when all we want is that person back. I understand. I so completely understand. The void we experience following a loss often feels like too much to bear.
It takes time. That’s why we must be kind to ourselves and listen to what our soul is trying to tell us. Our inner voice knows what we need. Laughter is an instant release. It creates space. Friends give us comfort. Take everything moment to moment. But we must do the work. When we are ready it is ultimately up to us.
Nature offers us many gifts. I am always calmer following a walk in the forest. Regularly I crave a warm lake in which to float, releasing myself to the water as it carries me along. Our universe is rich with beauty. When we give ourselves to it our souls respond to the sweet magnificence of the hummingbird, the soft comforting warmth of a furry family pet and the immense strength of the redwood tree.
In March of this year my mother will be dead thirty years. It’s an astonishing amount of time. Life threw my family a tremendous burden and a whole lot of heartbreak when we were all just starting off together as a little family. It’s not fair. But what in life is?
In those thirty years since I have lived sad times, bewildering times and happy joyful times. Some years propose questions and other years offer answers.
Moment to moment we can allow the answers to filter through, be it in stillness or art, writing or friendship. Look for that door, the one that appeals to you, the one that draws you over, and then when you’re ready to step on through, open it. Take all that you need with you on your next journey: your memories, the love you’ll always carry for the person you’ve lost, and breathe deeply as you go. Joy and beauty will greet you on the other side, showing up in your art, your words and your song, in the garden, on a hike, in another person’s smile. We are part of all that is. It is a great mystery but one that we are in together. The grief journey is gut-wrenching at the worst of times, but our lives are richer for the love we have experienced. Take it moment to moment, that’s all we can do. Then reach for that door handle. And visualize what you want to find on the other side!
Much love,
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
“May my heart be kind, my mind fierce, and my spirit brave.” – Kath Forsyth, The Witches of Eileanan
I lost Mam when I was 11 years old. As a young child I watched my beloved mother suffer as she attempted in so many ways to get well again. She was in and out of hospital for weeks, sometimes months at a time. She had to leave her husband and children while she spent days attached to drips in hospitals around the country. It must have been almost unbearable for her. But she fought with all that she had, for her life and for us. She fought for as long as she was able, until she could fight no more.
Today I feel my eleven year old pain, and I feel the pain of every child who grieves the loss of their mother. I hurt for children who have lost a father, a sibling or that special somebody who meant the world to them. I weep for those who are going through suffering, whether they are watching a parent fight for their lives or they are fighting for their own life. Because I know what pain, anxiety and loss feels like to a child, and although my circumstances are different to theirs as humans we know what a broken heart feels like.
To the little five year old girl who was in my classroom and whose mother had just been diagnosed with cancer; the little five year old boy whose dad was dying from aggressive cancer; the little girl whose father committed suicide; the little girl whose brother had sexually abused her; I wanted so badly to protect each of you from your pain. Your precious little hearts and bodies were aching and I saw each one of you. I still hold you all in my heart. For some of you it has been more than fifteen years but I remember each of you by name and I can see each of your tiny faces in my memory.
I see my sadness in other people’s sadness.
I see it in fathers, widowers, husbands who are in and out of the hospital visiting a suffering loved one and in adoring partners who want nothing more than the health and well-being of their chosen love. My heart breaks for them. It isn’t easy. And everything doesn’t always turn out as we want it to. I don’t know if there really is a divine plan. It doesn’t make sense to those of us who have lost someone, and it doesn’t help to hear that part of the divine plan is losing the good ones.
For the grieving parent who has lost a child; the woman who goes through miscarriage after miscarriage; the girl who has lost the love of her life; the man who experiences grief in every cell of his being; the child who misses a parent so much they just want to die; the person who misses a grandmother more than anyone; I feel your sorrows. I do. Our situations and circumstances are different and our pain is different in form but I know what it is like to hurt and despair. We have lost and feel broken, unsure of how to go on, angry at the world, envious of those who have what we no longer have.
Many of us know the pain of losing someone. Not everyone does. Unfortunately everybody will. Instead of bitterness and cruelty towards one another it is time to reach out and offer space for others. None of us know the full extent of the pain that another person is carrying on any given day. Let’s pause and consider this before we pass judgement or criticize. We can offer compassion. And let us never forget that we too deserve space and compassion. Let’s do the best we can in any given moment. We must take care of our own hearts too.
I went to hear Joe Biden speak in November here in Portland, Oregon. Joe has written a book about the death of his son Beau and much of the talk centered on the pain of that loss. Also mentioned was the loss of Joe’s first wife and baby daughter in a tragic car accident and yet Joe was able to look out into the audience and say to us, “I know that my grief is nothing compared to what some of you have experienced. Everyone in this room has gone through something.” He said that he didn’t mean to make his grief sound worse than anybody else’s. He wanted to acknowledge that we all have our burdens to carry.
Every one of us can speak of our losses, share our stories, and assert our needs while acknowledging that this is a world filled with people who understand heartache and burden. As we embark on a new journey in this bright and shiny new year let’s celebrate all the love that there is in the world. Love is a gift in all of its forms. Let’s not deny another person’s love. We can reach out to one another, offer a listening ear and share our vulnerabilities and our stories.
I began a Facebook page in which to share personal stories of mother loss and updates on my memoir. It has since morphed into a page where I share various grief articles (although still with an emphasis on mother loss), because as humans we all have the ability to relate to another person’s sorrow. I see my loss in another person’s loss. It is extremely helpful, of course, to connect with people who share similar experiences e.g Motherless Daughter’s groups, because within our tribe we experience a connection that can carry us when we are having trouble standing on our own.
In 2018 let’s see if we can reach out to each other more. To the refugee who has had to flee their home, leave their family and an entire life behind; to the child who finds themselves in trouble because a parent isn’t present in their lives; to the single mother who is trying her best to be present for their child and to those parents doing their best to care for a sick child. I see my struggles in their struggles.
Different, but the same.
Sadness around us.
Human suffering. Humanity suffering.
Because we love.
Humanity.
Love.
Let’s be the light, even as we ourselves struggle. Let’s be the light in this precious world of ours. Love wins, even when it hurts.
Peace and love to you all this new year.
Much love,
Carmel X
Like or follow my public Facebook pageherewhere I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.
Alovelywoman 