![]() His family said that they didn’t have his body back yet because he donated his organs. I didn’t get to go to the hospital, there was nobody at his funeral. I know that sounds crazy but I keep thinking maybe he had to go somewhere or do something and couldn’t let me know maybe something happened and he’s having to hide out for some reason!! I don’t know!! Hearing myself say this out loud sounds insane. I was told that he will always be watching meįor a little over 2 weeks straight I’ve been texting his phone and sending him Facebook messages every single day because I think maybe there’s a chance that he might not really be dead I was told to talk to him that he will hear me & reach out to me. I never got to say goodbye!! I’ve been searching the web researching ways that I can talk to him because I have so much to say! She said that his family decided to take him off of life support because they were told he was brain dead. The next morning I got a call from his sister. I was with him Tuesday night, he sent me a text Wednesday morning, I tried to answer his text and never got a message I rushed home to his house after work Wednesday night and was told that he had had an accident and was on life support. My very best friend in the world passed away suddenly 2 weeks ago. What do you mean you feel her when you don’t? That makes no sense. Relate? Thoughts? Leave a comment! As always, subscribe to get our new posts and other grief resources right to your email. It is my sadness, the bittersweet joy of knowing that I once had the perfect mom for me, it is my longing that lets me feel her. I feel her in the way I can’t feel her at all. I miss her in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I’m not the only one, it turns out, who hasn’t been able to “feel” their loved one. While I love my grief tattoos and the story they tell, a story of a daughter who desperately wants to be as close to her mother as possible, I still don’t feel my mom.Īs the years have passed by, I feel less shame about this. I got a third tattoo quickly followed by a fourth one: a large tattoo with two yellow flowers and a white moth. Was our relationship not as close as I had thought? Was she ok? Was she trying to reach out to me and I couldn’t hear her? I kept it to myself and just doubled-down on my efforts. I certainly couldn’t admit to people that my mom had not “reached out” to me. I played her favorite songs.īut I just couldn’t feel her. I ran my fingers over the outline of my grief tattoos. I addressed the thoughts in my head to my mom. Maybe if I had these pieces of her with me all the time, I’d feel her. I started wearing her wedding ring on a chain around my neck. Maybe if I prayed for her, if I meditated on it, I’d feel her. ![]() I went to different spiritual places, all different denominations. Told me that she was always with me in my thoughts and I needed to stop looking so hard for signs. Told me to look for yellow flowers and white moths. And so many of those people told me not to worry because I would always feel her with me. Maybe our spiritual connection was just experiencing a delay?Īnd then, who knows what happened those next few days. I hadn’t even woken up when the phone rang. ![]() I learned about it through a voicemail from my dad. I had spent every night in the hospice center with her for a week straight, and of course, the one night I went home to sleep in my bed instead of her chair, she died. I didn’t feel any pang of telepathic pain when she finally let go. So imagine my surprise when my mom’s body finally took its last breath and she did not immediately become one with the Force all around me. Obviously, we would keep in touch just like everyone said we would. She was cheerful, hysterical, compassionate, easy-going, generous, and spiritual. ![]() We talked every day and we saw each other several times every week, scheduled and spontaneous time together. See, because if there was any mother-daughter combo who would certainly keep in touch once the veil had come between us, it would be my mom and me. That as she was dying in hospice, it would all be ok because I would always feel her presence I would obviously receive messages from her. I needed to believe that this would be true. These are the very kind and infuriating things people have said to me over and over again since my mom died in 2012. Sharing with all of you, because we have a feeling many of you will relate. Written and shared with us by our grief-friend, Cara Jeanne. ![]()
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