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How do you live without a huge chunk of your heart?


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Tomorrow will be five weeks since Mom died and took the biggest part of my heart with her.

I had absolutely no idea how crushing and devastating it would be. I thought I was prepared. Mom had breast cancer for years. I knew it would take her at some point. Of course, the rapidity of her death when her doctor was not expecting her to go that fast and had another chemo ready doesn't help. She told me December 12th that the doctor was ready with that last chemo, and that it would get her four to eight more months. She lived 11 more days, and I only knew she was on her deathbed for about three. Cancer was supposed to afford us the awful luxury of saying goodbye in a more gradual way, not an abrupt and heartwrenching way. The slower death was supposed to be the one consolation of watching this stupid disease ravage her body.

When my brother called me to tell me she was dead, just as I was heading over to my parents' house, it felt like my chest exploded and I had been hit by a train. I didn't even know hurt like that was possible. Seeing her dead body, yellow and bloated because of liver failure, broke whatever was left of my heart. My mom, my buddy, my guiding light, the kindest, funniest and warmest person I've ever known, fought so hard and suffered so much just to die before she got to grow old with dad. I couldn't stop crying the whole day. It was December 23rd. Mom was looking forward to Christmas. She loved that holiday so much and made it so amazing each year that Dad called her "Mother Christmas." She  had even said that treatment was getting tough, but she was keeping it up because she wanted to be alive and functional at Christmas. And she didn't make it. She didn't make it, despite the fact that she was fine and her usual jovial self a couple of weeks before.

I wake up with a heavy and empty feeling each morning, knowing that my most constant companion, the person I loved the most, the person who loved me the most, the person I'd rather talk with than anyone else, is gone. The person who was always there can't be anymore. I even have a boyfriend and I don't love him the same way. Mom-daughter love is different.

Was anyone else utterly bowled over by the intensity of the pain of losing your mom? I'm 29, and I wasn't ready. I don't want to make family memories without her. I don't want the world to go on without her. She was the best person in it. She never hurt a fly. She made everything fun, funny, and bright. I'm so angry, sad, lonely, upset. She should still be here. She had another 20 or 30 years to give this world. She had more trips to take, more grandkids to meet, five kids to see married off, more memories to make with her husband of 41 years. It breaks my heart that she can't.

I know parents die, but I was hoping I'd at least reach middle age first. I didn't want the loss of my mom to go along with the fact that she got shortchanged with 59 years, especially when the last four were not spent in good health. I have to go on. I have to keep living with a smile because that's what she'd want. Why does it have to be so hard?

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41 minutes ago, DaughterOfAnAmazingMom said:

Tomorrow will be five weeks since Mom died and took the biggest part of my heart with her.

I had absolutely no idea how crushing and devastating it would be. I thought I was prepared. Mom had breast cancer for years. I knew it would take her at some point. Of course, the rapidity of her death when her doctor was not expecting her to go that fast and had another chemo ready doesn't help. She told me December 12th that the doctor was ready with that last chemo, and that it would get her four to eight more months. She lived 11 more days, and I only knew she was on her deathbed for about three. Cancer was supposed to afford us the awful luxury of saying goodbye in a more gradual way, not an abrupt and heartwrenching way. The slower death was supposed to be the one consolation of watching this stupid disease ravage her body.

When my brother called me to tell me she was dead, just as I was heading over to my parents' house, it felt like my chest exploded and I had been hit by a train. I didn't even know hurt like that was possible. Seeing her dead body, yellow and bloated because of liver failure, broke whatever was left of my heart. My mom, my buddy, my guiding light, the kindest, funniest and warmest person I've ever known, fought so hard and suffered so much just to die before she got to grow old with dad. I couldn't stop crying the whole day. It was December 23rd. Mom was looking forward to Christmas. She loved that holiday so much and made it so amazing each year that Dad called her "Mother Christmas." She  had even said that treatment was getting tough, but she was keeping it up because she wanted to be alive and functional at Christmas. And she didn't make it. She didn't make it, despite the fact that she was fine and her usual jovial self a couple of weeks before.

I wake up with a heavy and empty feeling each morning, knowing that my most constant companion, the person I loved the most, the person who loved me the most, the person I'd rather talk with than anyone else, is gone. The person who was always there can't be anymore. I even have a boyfriend and I don't love him the same way. Mom-daughter love is different.

Was anyone else utterly bowled over by the intensity of the pain of losing your mom? I'm 29, and I wasn't ready. I don't want to make family memories without her. I don't want the world to go on without her. She was the best person in it. She never hurt a fly. She made everything fun, funny, and bright. I'm so angry, sad, lonely, upset. She should still be here. She had another 20 or 30 years to give this world. She had more trips to take, more grandkids to meet, five kids to see married off, more memories to make with her husband of 41 years. It breaks my heart that she can't.

I know parents die, but I was hoping I'd at least reach middle age first. I didn't want the loss of my mom to go along with the fact that she got shortchanged with 59 years, especially when the last four were not spent in good health. I have to go on. I have to keep living with a smile because that's what she'd want. Why does it have to be so hard?

Oh my dear,

I know how hard it must be for you now.As you know I saw my father dying in front of me in the hospital.He was only 57 y.o.,so young I think.It was hard but the hardest wound came after I lost my beloved man who died very suddenly from morning till night.He was healthy.It were the doctors who killed him.He could be alive now.I lost the love of my life and my everything.The Christmas is always the hardest for me as well as for you,because before Christmas my beloved Jan died.I love him forever!

With love Janka

Broken Heart

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I'm so sorry for your loss. 
Daughters-mother relationships is one of the best.

I feel exactly the same. I just turned 21 and my mom was 42 when she died. She died on 20Nov 2015.

We lived together. She was a happy, loving, caring mom. She is my Darling, I love her so much. 
Her death was so sudden, it's unbelievable.
I still don't have the courage to talk about her death.
I HATE it how she suffered a lot.
When she died I wasn't with her. Nobody was telling me about her death, I saw my brother crying and somehow everything within me shut down. I reached to my mom, the tubes, the machines were all removed, it was her, her body, I will never be able to explain the feelings I had when everything was over, she meant the world to me.
I was all dependent on my mom. My lovely mom. I wish she was with me for more more years. 

It seems so unfair. It is unfair, what was the need for us to be separated?
I'll never be the same, 
There is a huge change in me and I won't be the same stubborn, happy, confident, childish little girl.

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Unfortunately, I also am part of the group. I'm 28 and my mom was 47. But I was not able to say goodbye, as it was a stupid massive heart attack. And I couldn't see one last time, because I had to fly overseas...I only could be part of the cremation ceremony and that hurts so much.

It is not fair and the kind of love between mother and daughter is something so beautiful... why were they taken so early from us?

She had depression and had two thrombosis which made even more difficult. I spoke to her almost everyday, but since I live in another country, sometimes it was difficult to manage the time zone and I hate myself for that. We were not expecting what happened and when my father told me I remember just screaming so loud and curling in the floor so so so desperate... After a while I felt that something took over my body and did all the formalities necessary to fly home (tickets, new visa entry and all)... 

I still cannot believe I'm never going to touch her again. She has this beautiful smile, strong personality that made her the center of our lives...

I had one very real dream with her once. Have you yet? If not, it will come, for sure...

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Hiya, 

Sadly I also part of this group. Never in a million years did I expect to lose my mother so soon and I too feel that she was taken way too soon, she had so much more to give to this world. I know I've already spoke with a few members of this thread already and it's been such a comfort and help to me. 

Beth 

xxx

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Lost My Mom last July at 93 in home hospice. Some days I can go on just fine with my new life, others deeply in thought of all she and my departed dad did for me to be here where I am now. I always open and close the curtains in her room every day, say good morning to her. I always try to remember/understand that 'she had to leave'. Her body was spent. Had her funeral at Arlington National Cemetery, her urn was placed in a vault with my dad. After we all came back to the house and watched a power point presentation of pictures of her as a child to her in the urn. I feel like I'm coming to a new understanding of her as a person, what an amazing person she was, outside of just being my Mom. It's a learning experience. 

 

I also have a deeper sense of humility and feeling of compassion for other people. Knowing how fragile and rare the everyday is, not taking it so much for granted like I use to.

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On 2/1/2016 at 11:23 PM, Dave58 said:

 I feel like I'm coming to a new understanding of her as a person, what an amazing person she was, outside of just being my Mom. It's a learning experience. I also have a deeper sense of humility and feeling of compassion for other people. Knowing how fragile and rare the everyday is, not taking it so much for granted like I use to.

So beautiful, Dave. I'm still trying to learn. It's just hard to imagine all we could have done together. Our age difference was not big and I was hoping to grow old with my mama...

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On 2/1/2016 at 4:23 PM, Dave58 said:

I also have a deeper sense of humility and feeling of compassion for other people. Knowing how fragile and rare the everyday is, not taking it so much for granted like I use to.

I'm so sorry for your loss. At 93 it sounds like she lived a long and wonderful life and had a wonderful child in you. It's wonderful you had her so many years.

I used to joke all the time about enjoying doing things because life is short. I was half serious, but in the end it is the truth. I'm glad that I got my sis to do some of the things we did because we enjoyed them and it was nice to just get out and go do it. I wish we had more time.

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Now they have all of the "President's Day Sales" advertisements, and I wasn't prepared for how hard it'd hit me.  You see, my mom's birthday is February 23, right at President's Day, so now I have this as a reminder.  In the past we would have been together, I would have taken her out to eat and shopping, and brought her a gift, made her a card.  She was 92 when she died, 1 1/2 years ago.  

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  • 1 month later...

I am so sorry that you're all going through this, too. It's nice for me to just hear other folks who are in the same boat, especially those of you who are young or who lost a parent while young. In my group of friends and acquaintances, I only know two other people who lost their moms before they were 30. I mean, other than my younger brother and sister. They were 24 and *almost* 17 when Mom passed. Whenever I feel badly for myself, I look at my sister. Mom won't even be at her high school graduation. Mom was so sweet and wrote her letters for my sister's 18th birthday and her graduation in case she didn't make it. My gosh, Mom was a sweetie. She wrote all of us a goodbye note. She penned several for my dad, too. I've also collected all of her emails and copied down all of her texts in case something crazy happens with my phone. It's nice to be able to read her words. Have you all found any solace in your mom's notes and cards?

 

Mom's birthday is coming up on March 20th. It would have been her 60th. I know a few months wouldn't have made that big of a difference, but I feel like if she'd just made it to 60, it would have been a tiny bit better. Making it to that milestone would have been one more accomplishment she managed after her diagnosis. She made it to her 40th wedding anniversary with Dad. Her 60th birthday would have been awesome. She was diagnosed on her 56th birthday. "Happy birthday! Your boobs are slowly killing you!" It still would have hurt us all just as much, but at least we'd have had another three months with her and she'd have made it out of her 50s. The 20th is going to suck. I was thinking of making a cake and her homemade pizza recipe to mark it. I usually do my own thing when I prepare the pizza, but I could put it together it just like she did. Maybe we can all eat it with a candle lit at her usual place at the table at my parents' house.

 

I visited her at the cemetery over the weekend. There isn't a headstone yet because the ground is still too mushy from winter. I bought two types of tulips from the store, mixed them up, and kept half of the flowers to put in a vase at my dad's house and put the other half on her grave. I moved back in with my Dad last month because he asked me to, and the house is sooooo quiet. Sometimes I go into my parents' room and "talk" to Mom, like I always used to do. At first, it was comforting. Now, it's been two and a half months, so it doesn't feel like she's around anymore. Talking to her at the cemetery is exponentially worse, though. She's just surrounded by a bunch of strangers. I mean, one day, Dad will be there and she won't be "alone," but right now, it's just her and a bunch of people we don't know as her neighbors. Does anyone else have a special place they talk with their mom and is anyone else just depressed as all get out at the cemetery?

 

Has anyone "heard" from their mom? I've prayed and prayed, but I really haven't. There have been a few things that have happened that have made me think, but it might just be because I'm reaching since I want to hear from her SO badly. If I just knew she was okay somewhere, in heaven like she staunchly believed, it would make things a little better. Most of my tears are just from remembering her dying, her being dead, and how much life she was screwed out of. I love the idea that she's waiting for us someplace better. That she left early because she was too good to stay in this crappy place. I am a Christian, but a very skeptical one at times. I doubt an awful lot. She never did.

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I haven't (heard from my mom) but I don't really expect to.  I believe without a doubt that my mom is finally okay and that is the one thing that consoles me.  I just miss her.  So many times I want to talk to her and can't.  I even dialed her number once, don't know what I was hoping/expecting, but it just said it was disconnected.  Disconnected?!  She had that number for 60 years! 

My dad died when I was 29 and pregnant with my first child.  He missed so much, never got to see his grandchildren.  It seems like he missed out on my life!

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