I’d be the first to let you know that I haven’t really dealt with the death of my mother. I have buried it deep down and haven’t come to terms with it. 

I honestly haven’t cried that I lost her.

I’ve cried that she didn’t get to see my husband and tease him, cried that my children wouldn’t be able to receive her kisses and unending love, cried for the people that depended on her, cried that I couldn’t save her. 

But not once have I cried that the only person I have loved with all of my heart is no longer here with me. That I would no longer have air kiss competitions after she told me she loved me at the end of our phone conversations. I haven’t cried that I wouldn’t hear her call me ‘pretty babe’ while caressing my face or take a jab at my small bum and squeeze it.

People keep telling me how strong I am when they learn that she’s gone.

“I admire your strength”

“I love your attitude”

“Wow, Deborah, you’re so strong”

“Such a brave, young woman”

But the truth is that I don’t want to be strong. I want to cry and understand my feelings because it’s eating at me. My heart hurts really bad sometimes and the only relief for that would be to cry but I can’t bring myself to.

I guess I feel partly responsible for her death. Maybe if I prayed more, fasted more, read my bible more, was pure and closer to God. Maybe then, just maybe God wouldn’t have taken her when He knew I needed her; maybe He’d have accepted my request for us to swap places. 

Losing her has made me more open with my feelings to people but it has also made it hard for me to let people in. I mean, what if they leave and I have to go through this again?

God forbid.

However, I know that to find love is to live life fully so I’m learning to open my heart and to love again. 

And I hope that one day I will be able to sit down and cry. Cry that the love of my life left me alone in this world. One day, I’d be able to come to terms with the fact that she’s really gone and I’m here. 

It’s a really slow process, and I hope I’m not scarred for life.