My mom is dead.
Yeah, you read that correctly. My mom suffered from an asthma attack that closed her lungs. She was without oxygen for 30 minutes. She died last week after several days on life support. She donated four organs in life-saving transplants, was cremated, and will be buried in a few days.
And that’s okay.
I’ve never been afraid of death. It’s a normal, natural part of life. In fact, it’s a crucial part of life. We are born, we live, we die. Those three things are equally important. So no, it’s not a shame she died, and please, please, stop being sorry for my loss.
I miss my mom. It’s true. She was a beacon in my life, and I love her more than anything. She taught me how to walk, how to eat, how to talk, how to read, how to speak my thoughts and how to be a strong woman in a world that preys on the sensitivities of young ladies. But that doesn’t mean that I’m depressed and on the verge of tears at every moment. She didn’t raise me to fall apart at loss, to tear at the seams when times are hard.
What is becoming the hardest part of this time is that friends are distant. They comment nice things on Facebook statuses, but don’t invite me out. I don’t need food, I don’t need everyone coming over to my house. I need friends inviting me to the movies or to get sushi or to walk around in the park. Being away from school and all my friends is making this hard.
I miss my mom. I love my mom. My family is in mourning and we’re going to be sad as we learn to adjust. But please, stop being sorry for me. Be a friend. Hug your mom for me. Invite me out. Come to the service. Send me memes. Make me laugh.
Remind me that life goes on.