The day she dies a piece of you will die, too. You’ll learn this is a piece you cannot fill. It is a piece that cannot be replaced by anything, ever.

The day she dies you’ll stop breathing for a moment, too. You’ll wonder how the world around you continues to go on.

The day she dies you’ll start a new life. 

Your new life will be motherless. It will be different than before, in the most painful and heartbreaking way.

The day she dies you will look around and question everything. You’ll question your faith, your last words, and every moment you spent away from her. Your questions will never be answered, but keep asking anyway.

The day she dies you’ll be in complete disbelief. You will refuse to accept this reality but it will stay with you. One day the debilitating reality will sink in. This day is just as bad as the day she dies. 

The day she dies you will be frozen with heartbreak, confusion, and terror. You will develop new anxieties and fears you never had before. Some days these new fears will be debilitating. 

The day she dies, you become an adult. The kind of adult who doesn’t have a mother. That is a different kind of adult than before, trust me. 

The day she dies you will long for her hug, her kiss, her time, and her presence. This longing never goes away. 

It stays with you, but so does she, because . . . 

The day she dies you gain the most beautiful angel. 

You can’t see her, but she is there, just as she promised.

The day she dies you will look around and be grateful for all of the people there supporting you and helping you pick up the pieces. The people who show up are your people. Never forget the ones who showed up; they are special. 

The day she dies you’ll learn that you loved so hard, so deeply, so purely, that you will now grieve hard because of that beautiful love. 

The day she dies you’ll learn that she loved you beyond measure. She mothered you more beautifully than any Hallmark movie. She believed in you more than you’ve ever believed in yourself. You’ll realize that she took care of you like you were the most precious cargo on the planet, even as an adult.

The day she dies you’ll realize, without hesitation, that she was the most amazing woman you’ve ever known and will ever know. 

The day she dies you’ll appreciate her more than you ever have, and you’ll pray to have her back. Unfortunately, no prayers can bring her back. No wishes can make her appear.

So when she dies, remember her smile, remember her love, and remember her life. 

Never forget her and everything that she was because the day she dies, you become her legacy.

Originally published on the author’s blog

You may also like:

What it’s Like to Love a Motherless Daughter

Only a Motherless Daughter Knows

I’m the Friend With the Dead Mom

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Chelsea Ohlemiller

Wife, mother, and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is married to the love of her life and is the mother to three beautiful and spunky children. Chelsea’s mother always encouraged her to write. In 2017 when she tragically lost her mother to cancer she decided to honor her mother's wishes and write. It was one of the best decisions she's ever made. She know owns the website Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities, a space dedicated to encouraging others experiencing grief and loss. Website: www.hopeandharshrealities.com Instagram Handle: hopeandharshrealities Facebook: @hopeandharshrealities 

My Daddy Is In the Arms of Jesus

In: Grief, Loss
Grown daughter walking with older father

My daddy went home to the arms of Jesus just a few short days before Christmas. My family was given the greatest gift of time with him individually to speak the words they needed him to hear and to listen to the words he wanted to say. It was a gift we are beyond grateful for because we know not everyone has that time with their loved ones before they go, especially now. So, yes, I am grateful, but I miss him. I awoke this morning with a dance happening in my heart. The dance of grief and joy. I...

Keep Reading

Even Though You Left Too Soon, You Gave Me Hope

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Early sonogram image

This was the fifth time I’d seen those two pink lines letting me know that a baby was on the way, but I only had one child to show for it, so I’d learned to damper my happiness and excitement. Each miscarriage brought its own unique flavor—one was marked by anxiety, another anger, deep sadness, and then apathy. I’d learned not to get too close to a pregnancy, but this time I leaned into it in a way I hadn’t before. There was a tender and growing elation, and I felt immediate love and gratitude. Sure, there was no telling...

Keep Reading

We Picked up Our Daughter’s Ashes Yesterday

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother holding decorative urn in baby's room, color photo

We picked up her ashes yesterday . . . our daughter’s ashes. Though the funeral home was only about an hour away, the trip felt like an eternity. I stared blankly out the window for most of the drive, somewhat calmed by the cocktail of medications I had been placed on and was brought back to reality only by the occasional pain searing through my abdomen. When we arrived, the parking lot was completely empty. Snow lined the edges of the lot, and the sun shone all too brightly. We had assumed the funeral director would be there to greet...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Prayer I Ever Prayed

In: Cancer, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Bald-headed little girl in hospital bed with her mama, color photo

Trigger warning: Child loss I had a plan for summertime fun with my children. We had just returned from a week-long road trip to the Grand Canyon. I intentionally planned to fill the rest of the summer with activities that would chase away boredom. Craft supplies had been purchased, day trips had been planned, and we were just beginning a week of Vacation Bible School. Excitement was in the air! Yet a tiny nagging fear kept resurfacing: Was there something wrong with my 2-year-old? Ever since she turned two back in the fall, she had become fussy. Our healthy, happy...

Keep Reading

My Mom Passed away and I Don’t Know Who I Am Anymore

In: Grief, Loss
Mother and daughter on a carousel ride, older color photo

For the last sixteen months of her life, I was one of my mother’s primary caregivers, and now that she’s gone, I feel lost. My beautiful, strong, hilarious, and fun-loving mom not only survived but thrived after a heart attack and open-heart surgery at age 67. So 10 years later, we were all surprised to learn that the aortic aneurysm with which she had lived for over a decade had expanded to dangerous territory. We were told she would soon die without another risky open-heart surgery. The one thing my mother feared more than going into surgery was death. Her...

Keep Reading

Dear Dad, I Pray for Our Healing

In: Faith, Grief, Grown Children
Back shot of woman on bench alone

You are on my mind today. But that’s not unusual. It’s crazy how after 13 years, it doesn’t feel that long since I last saw you. It’s also crazy that I spend far less time thinking about that final day and how awful it was and spend the majority of the time replaying the good memories from all the years before it. But even in the comfort of remembering, I know I made the right decision. Even now, 13 years later, the mix of happy times with the most confusing and painful moments leaves me grasping for answers I have...

Keep Reading

It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Small dog with head hanging out car window, color photo

Our dog Carlos has slowed down considerably within the last few months. He’s always been outspoken and opinionated–a typical firstborn trait–and to hear him snoring most of the day and tolerating things he normally wouldn’t tolerate (i.e. being carried from place to place by my son, forklift-style) put me on notice that he’s in the fourth quarter. Carlos looks and acts like an Ewok from the Star Wars franchise. According to Wikipedia, Ewoks are clever, inquisitive, and inventive. Carlos checks all three boxes. As a puppy, we tried crate training, but it never took. It wasn’t for lack of trying....

Keep Reading

You’ve been Gone a Year, So Why Does It Feel Like Yesterday?

In: Grief, Loss
Old photo of mother hugging her young daughter, color photo

In February, you will have been gone a year. How is that right? It was just yesterday. I still remember the day we got the diagnosis. One I knew was coming but still prayed wasn’t true. I still remember promising you that everything was going to be okay, and knowing that it wasn’t. I still remember the first time I saw you and thought to myself, “The dementia is moving too fast.” It was just yesterday. I still feel your hand in mine as I sat next to you in the hospital bed. You were talking and humming along while...

Keep Reading

God Redeemed the Broken Parts of My Infertility Story

In: Faith, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Two young children walking on a path near a pond, color photo

It was a Wednesday morning when I sat around a table with a group of mamas I had just recently met. My youngest daughter slept her morning nap in a carrier across my chest. Those of us in the group who held floppy babies swayed back and forth. The others had children in childcare or enrolled in preschool down the road. We were there to chat, learn, grow, and laugh. We were all mamas. But we were not all the same. I didn’t know one of the mom’s names, but I knew I wanted to get to know her because she...

Keep Reading

Growing Slowly around the Grief of Losing Your Mom

In: Grief, Loss
Sad woman sitting on couch with folded arms

Everyone has heard about the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Society often assumes the stages of grief happen in order, but those who encounter grief know that’s not true. Undergoing grief can feel like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded—disorienting and chaotic. There are numerous ups, downs, and twists you wouldn’t anticipate. Grief is like an ocean. When waves come crashing, it feels like you’re being swept away. Regardless of their size, waves are always rough. Despite everything, you also get pushed forward to the shore after every wave. Sometimes, you may feel like you are drowning...

Keep Reading