By Meg MacDuff 
When a mother dies, people often say “she’ll always be with you” or “she’s your guardian angel now.” I even heard my mom say this about her own mother . . . that she could “feel her presence with her always.” I always found this comforting and felt a sense of wonder about when and how I would experience my own mother as my guardian angel or as a force by my side in a spiritual sense.
Then it happened—she died. When she was alive she’d always say, “Ya know, I’m not gonna be around forever” and would let out a contagious laugh. She’d often jovially exclaim, “Ya know, I had a great life!” with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of chardonnay in the other blasting REO Speedwagon’s “Keep Pushin” in the background. “When It’s my time, it’s my time,” she’d often say.
She seemingly had no fear of death, but for some reason, she was terrified of ending up in a “mental institution” as she called it. Even in her will, all it said was “Do not put me in a mental institution.” After her stroke, she had to go to an outpatient rehab facility which unexpectedly turned into a nursing home in a matter of weeks. I now realize that was the equivalent of my mother’s dreaded “mental institution.”
After a horrific series of events, she passed away in the ICU at Lutheran General Hospital basking in the warm red glow of the giant Portillo’s Hot Dogs sign looming in and shining through the giant picture window onto her deathbed.
She was a single mom, and I was her only child. It was always “us against the world.” After she died, I just knew I’d receive a sign. A sign of the afterlife, a sign that she was okay and had passed onto the other side, a sign that everything would be okay.
I never got the sign. I never felt her presence. I never had a lucid dream where she reassured me that she had moved on and was with her family and her dogs in heaven or wherever that may be. At first, I was incredibly saddened by this radio silence from the beyond, but now I’ve come to realize that maybe the notion of her “being with me always” had an entirely different meaning.
I started to increasingly notice my mannerisms, my laugh, the way I talked to strangers, the way I dealt with hardships, my sense of humor, my approach to my career, my relationships with my friends, my bandmates, my remaining family, gift-giving, saying thank you, buying groceries, Windexing a mirror, blasting “tunes” and just living life in general were all adopted from her.
By following in her example, her approach to life, her lessons, her stories, her favorite line, “Do as I say, not as I do!” followed by her mischievous laughter. Or when friends would ask her if she ever did drugs and she’d respond, “Let’s just say I’ve tried everything once!” Or when people would treat me unkindly or I’d see other people treat others unkindly, and she’d tell me, “Not everyone is as nice as us, Meghan.” And I’d get mad and shout “Well, why not?!”
Even though I can’t audibly hear her voice from beyond, I can hear her in my subconscious. And though I can’t say she is spiritually with me or that she is my guardian angel, I can, however, say she is a huge part of the person I am today. And she will always be with me because, in a way, I am her and she is me.
by Chelsea Ohlemiller 
by Christie Lynn 
by Nikki Pennington 
