We all have stories to share. Stories that make up who we are and that has given us wisdom. They might be painful but in that pain there is incredible value, the value of experience which gives depth to our lives.
My story might seem sad but I wouldn’t want to be without it.
It’s about loss, and though I would give the world to see my family again and know where they are now, the experience of losing them is still one of the greatest treasures I carry.
I had a happy childhood. I was the youngest of four kids. Three years separated me and my sister and my two brothers were old enough to move out soon after I was born. In a sense I grew up in a family of four, though my brothers would sometimes visit on the weekends. Most of the time it was my mom and dad, my sister and me.
I felt safe and loved growing up, but I had a great fear that always surfaced whenever my parents went away for the evening, or went away for a few days to spend some time alone together. My brothers would look after my sister and I, but I remember looking out the window to see my parents’ car disappear down the road with dread. I thought they wouldn’t come back. I had a strong feeling that they would abandon me. I would cry a lot, but of course my parents always returned to make me feel safe again.
I wonder if I somehow knew that I would eventually lose them.
I can’t remember how old I was when I learned that my mom had cancer. I remember she dropped me off at school in the morning before having to drive to the hospital. I wanted to feel sad all day to support her, but I soon got lost in the fun of playing with my friends. I guess I must have been around 9 years old.
My life eventually became filled with visits to the hospital. My mom was getting worse. But she was brave, and really strong. She never wanted to put any of her pain on us children.
I don’t want to tell the whole story in detail. For some reason it makes me tired. I don’t want to focus on the past as much as I want to understand how it’s effecting me now. I want to unravel myself. I want to uncover all those trapped feelings I’ve been holding onto for years. It’s been so long that I thought I should be over it by now, but I guess grief doesn’t work like that. I’ve been avoiding it, and grief has to be walked through all the way.
The Past Feels Like a Dream
My mom passed away when I was 13. It was the day after my birthday. My family spent it together, crying, watching silly movies. About a year after that my sister died unexpectedly in an accident. I lost my dad when I was 18. It’s strange to think back at the life that I had with my family. It’s as though I’m looking at someone else’s life. Still I feel that young girl inside me, feeling lost and alone.
Maybe you feel the hurt of losing someone or something you love. Maybe what I write will help others as well as myself. Perhaps by investigating our pain we can uncover something truly precious.