One of the most sobering experiences of my life has unfolded over the last 30 days from writing this . On September 21st, my mom passed away, and to say it’s been a whirlwind is an understatement. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions, actions, and tasks that my siblings and I have had to take care of, things that, deep down, we knew would one day arrive, though it never felt real…. until it did. It’s a promise we all carry—that one day, we’ll face the inevitable. Yet knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.
The Beginning of Loss:
Death is not foreign to me. I’ve experienced it many times before, starting from when I was just a child. I remember being around 8 or 9 when a family friend in the Dominican Republic passed away. Funerals there are experienced differently from here in the U.S. – not better, not worse, just different. I’ve been through it again and again with family and loved ones, each time thinking I understood it. But this…this feels different.
This Loss Hits Different:
Losing my mom has shaken me in ways I can’t even fully articulate. It’s as if I’m walking through life in a daze, like a bobblehead floating on air, just going through the motions without truly feeling like myself. I don’t know who I am right now. It’s the strangest feeling. I know I’m not the same I was before September 21. The finality of it all is so surreal, yet it’s not just the finality—it’s the layers that come with it.
The Painful Layers of Grief:
Planning her funeral, buying her dress, creating a memorial card—it’s like I’m watching myself from the outside, as if this can’t actually be my reality. My siblings and I have made decisions together, decisions I wish we never had to make. And yet, these are the things that happen when you lose someone close to you. You take care of what needs to be done, even as your heart breaks. I saw my mother after she passed. Her body was cold. But even that sight hasn’t fully convinced me that she’s truly gone.
The Unbearable Process of Sorting Her Belongings:
As if the emotional toll of losing her wasn’t enough, we had to face the agonizing task of cleaning out her home. It felt wrong, invasive. Who am I to decide what stays and what goes, to determine what she treasured as garbage? Going through her things—her clothes, her favorite dishes, her intimate belongings—felt intrusive, and yet, it had to be done. The guilt weighs heavy, as my siblings and I had to donate so many of her belongings because we simply didn’t have the space.
A New Realization: Preparing for My Own Mortality-
Through this heartbreaking process, one thing has become abundantly clear: I don’t want my son to go through what we’re going through. I don’t want him to be faced with the task of sorting through my belongings, feeling the guilt we feel. It’s made me painfully aware of how much “stuff” we collect in our lives, and how little of it matters in the end. I’ve said before that we don’t take any of it with us, but this experience has made me feel that truth in a deeper way.
Grief Feels Like a Never-Ending Void:
This pain, this grief—it’s indescribable. There’s a constant ache in my heart that no medication can soothe, and an emptiness in the pit of my stomach that food can’t fill. I know I’ll never be the same person I was before September 21st. My life has been divided into “before” and “after,” and now I have to figure out how to navigate this new normal, even though I don’t feel ready.
Bringing Pieces of Her Home With Me:
Even though I’ve come to terms with letting go of many of her things, I couldn’t leave it all behind. I rented a pickup truck and brought back a few pieces—some knickknacks, photos, her recliner, her TV. I’m not ready to let these things go yet, and maybe I never will be. But I know that, in time, I’ll be able to process and decide what to let go of. For now, I’m holding on to what little I can to keep her memory close.
A New Normal:
Life without her feels strange and wrong. I don’t know how to go on, but I know I must. This new chapter of my life is filled with uncertainty and pain, but I hope, with time, I’ll find my way through. For now, I’m just taking it one day at a time.
Conclusion: Grieving as a Journey, Not a Destination-
Grief isn’t something you get over; it’s something you live with. I know this is only the beginning of a long journey, but I’m trying to find solace in the fact that I’m not alone. I’ve started listening to audiobooks on grief and reached out to a counselor. I believe in talking through these emotions, sharing them, and allowing myself to feel them fully. There’s no easy fix or way out. There’s only moving forward, slowly, and carrying the memory of my mom with me as I do.
If you’re grieving, know this: You don’t have to go through it alone. Reach out, talk about it, and take your time. There’s no right or wrong way to mourn, and it’s okay to not have all the answers right now.
Grief, like love, is a journey that changes us forever.
🙏🫶🏼~ Claribel
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