How to grieve a mother

Like I mentioned in an earlier post I lost my mother suddenly this summer. I've written about it in other places but figured I'd share my thoughts here too.

It was a beautiful July day. I was out and about on a photography journey all day in the countryside around here. At the end of the afternoon I turned home and ran in to change clothes and headed back out to a beautiful field of fireweed, close to my mothers' house, I had seen earlier in the week.

While I was taking self-portraits in the pink ocean of flowers I heard sirens in the distance. But I just continued for a few minutes to do my thing. Then I headed to my mothers' house, figured I'd have a coffee there, just to find the yard filled with ambulances and rescue vehicles. From then on everything seems surreal and blurry.

The EMTs, a whole bunch of them, several I knew or am related to, were using a defibrillator trying to bring my mother back to life. They had been at it almost half an hour when I got there, so they stopped quite soon after that and we were left shocked and confused.

I thought people couldn't just die like that. If a perfectly healthy 55-year-old gets medical attention as soon as their heart stops (and she did, since my stepmom is a doctor and was there immediately) they wake up. They don't just die. It was heart-breaking and completely surreal.

A few days later we found out what had happened. Her aorta had ruptured. Her heart cavity filled with blood and there was no way for the heart to keep beating. She passed without pain in an instance. The half hour rescue mission was in vain.

Now when I look at the photos I took in the moment of her passing I realize I didn't "miss it". I didn't arrive too late. She was there with me as her soul traveled on. She is still with me. But I've never lost someone close to me before. Not someone who has been a part of my daily life since I was born. Not someone who has loved me no matter what. I am certain about my belief in what happens after we die, I am sure the soul lives on. But I knew nothing about the physical loss. The fact that people who die aren't here anymore. The void is immense and will never, ever be filled.

Me, my stepmom and my sister, and everyone around us are all grieving in our own way. I am forever grateful that I have a loved one by my side. I have no idea where or how I'd be without him. In a sense it feels like I gained his love and presence in an entirely new way when I lost my mother. It's no replacement, but it is comfort. I have somewhere to cry, and laugh, and I am loved no matter what. And most importantly I still feel joy, I am still dreaming, I am still perfectly alive.

I was in shock for days after mom's passing. I might still be, although it is calmer now. I still don't really understand, or can grasp, reality without her. But I've written, and painted, and talked my way through the sorrow. But in no means am I on the other side.

I doubt I ever will be.

My life is forever changed, and sorrow will never leave me. But I can already see lessons to be learned from this, and I still feel her love and guidance.

One of the most beautiful things since her passing has been the love felt from people all around. My mother was a healer and friend to so many people. She has helped probably thousands, and hundreds of them have reached out to some or all of us grieving, sharing their stories and their own grief. My mother was so loved, and so many people are grateful for her life and presence. That means more than her death. Her life means the world, and her death is just a part of it.

I don't know how to grieve a mother. I mean, it is common for people to lose their parents, that is how it should be. But no one is ready to lose them, especially when they die suddenly, too soon, and without any warning. I thought I'd have my mother for 30 years still, that she'd see me grow into a happier, healthier person. That she'd get to relish in the fruits of her labor. That she and my stepmom would grow old together.

I will cry for a long time still. I will try my best to grasp reality and make the best of it. I will paint her, write poetry about her, and continue her work as a healer. And I will love.

//Alexandra Marinasdotter Sandbäck