Remembering my mother's loss
There are 86,400 seconds in a day. Today, on the anniversary of my mother's passing, I can say that likely every second will be spent remembering and honoring her. I know now why throughout my life my mother asked me to be strong. It must have been because she knew that one day I would need the strength to bear her loss. I also know now that when you lose someone you truly love it never goes away. You too die as often as you remember that person's loss.
It was on this day my mother passed after she stayed in the hospital for several day as the Egyptian revolution unfolded around her. She awoke once for a few hours with my sister at her side. She asked my sister to call me and her last words to me were “Are you OK, is everything OK with you?” Yes, she was in critical condition, likely knew that she was close to the end, but she worried about me, she was worried about me. I wasn't surprised, this had been the norm ever since I can remember, she was always worried about me when I got on a plane, worried about me when I got the flu, worried about me when I faced every challenge that came my way, worrying more about me than herself. How difficult it must be to be a mother, how difficult it must be to always be last, to never come first, to always live for someone else.
I know now I didn't lose my mother just on this day; I keep losing her every day when I remember something about her. I grieve for her constantly and on particular days when I really miss her, something I remember for no reason at all, overwhelms me even for just a second. Yes, there are 86,400 seconds in a day, but some of those seconds of grief are sometimes impossible to manage. There are just too many seconds in this one truly difficult day, but sadly the mourning isn't confined to just one day. It doesn't get easier, I guess it never will.
The lesson she taught me was to be strong always and that's what's needed to bear her loss.
Allah ya rehamek.