I was considered an adult when my mom died. I was over 18 and no longer fit into the category of a “child losing a parent.” However, let’s be honest—I was in college, and I was so far from an adult and especially far from the spot where you are self-sufficient enough to feel like you don’t need your parents. I was a child mentally and emotionally, and I knew darn well I didn’t fit in the other category of “adult parent loss.”
A lot has happened since then. Things have changed. Milestones have happened. I have grown up. I am so much more of an adult nine years later than I was then, and to be totally honest, I was totally unprepared for how deep I’d feel this void as I got older.
I always thought things would get easier as I got older.
I would separate, start my own life a little more, and as much as my parents would still be a part of my life, I wouldn’t need them as much. If we’re being honest, this has been the total opposite of what I expected.
I truly feel that as a late 20-something, I need my mom more than ever. There are so many big life decisions and moments when I am craving her advice and presence. I am finally at the age when everyone around me seems to have adult relationships, which are more like friendships with their moms, and I am so gut-wrenchingly jealous of that.
I watch my friends call their moms for everything. I watch their moms celebrate their exciting life moments and watch their moms comfort them in their darkest times. I am so happy for them that they get to have that, but I am so sad for me that I do not.
Truthfully, at times my grief has gotten really dark in these adult years.
There are times I truly wonder how it’s already been nine years and how it’s even possible that I could live 60 more years on this planet without the love and support of my mom. In some senses, nine years seems like forever while in other ways, it truly feels like yesterday.
One thing I know is that no matter how much time passes or how old I get, I will never stop missing, needing, and craving the love and support of my mom.