What do you do when you have a void that you cannot fill? What once filled this empty space in my heart is now gone, and I cannot replace it because death is the reason for my emptiness. Like many of you whose mother has passed away, you are left with a void that you cannot fulfill. What do you do?
For many years I struggled with depression. When my mom first died, I did not give myself time to grieve. I pushed forward and moved on because that was the “Christian” thing to do. I was told God has a plan. He has a purpose for me that I must fulfill and to just trust in Him, but what do you do when you are too angry with God to trust Him?
I was left with so many emotions, so many unanswered questions, and I had insufficient understanding. How can I trust a God who would take her the way that He did? No warning. No signs. She was not sick or in and out of the hospital. She was healthy and took care of herself. One day she was here and gone the next. Why? I did not understand and I was angry. Was.
I write to some of you who find today unmanageable to let you know I am with you. I write to some of you who despise today. Just know that I am with you. I write to some of you who cannot go the day without shedding tears. Trust me, I understand. I am with you. I write to some of you, who are like me, who pretends today is just another day and is not bothered. Know that I am writing to you to let you know that I am with you.
You are not alone, and although I have not gone very far in life without my mom, I can say things do get easier. Easier, yes. Easy, no. It does not get easy. It is still painful, and if I live to see 100, it will still be painful. But the pain will be easier to bear.
It was in my depression that I encountered God. In my anger, I recognized His grace. It was in me trying so hard to fill the void myself that I recognized His patience for me. It was in my surrender that I was filled with life.
So what do you do with a void you cannot fill? God took my void that was filled with death, and He breathed life into it because the moment she died, a part of me died too. My dream of her giving me away at my wedding died. The dream I had of me finally having a better relationship with her died. My dream, since I was a child, of buying her a mansion on a private island died.
But in my darkness, while looking to fill my void with dead things, I found life, hope, and purpose in God. And it is through my relationship with Christ that I truly believe I will see her again. We all say that but do we really believe we will see our loved ones again? I didn’t. My mom has been gone for seven years, and it was not until this year I truly believed I would see her again, even though I would always tell myself I would.
My perception of death has shifted. I have grown to accept it is a part of life, and to be honest, sometimes I feel when I want her to be here, it is natural, but selfish of me. She finished her race and honestly, this world is not fit for her to dwell in. I have learned to be happy for her even though it remains hard, and sometimes I still struggle, but that too is a part of life.
My mom was not perfect. We did not have the relationship I desired to have. In many ways, I wanted more from her. More love. A deeper relationship. A friendship. A deeper connection. I just wanted us to be closer and when she left, I struggled so much with accepting what she did not give me, I did not notice everything she did give me.
She gave me what she could, and instead of basing my expectations of what I believe she should have given me off of what I observed my friends’ mothers giving them, I looked at what her parents gave her. She took that, which was not much, and gave me all that she could. It was in her imperfections that I realized how much she really loved me. And it was through her imperfections that I realized how perfect of a mother she was to me.
Life is not about what you were given. It is about what you do with what you are given. I will take what she has given me, the good, the bad, the ugly, and, with God, I will breathe life into it.
Today, although I cry, I do not mourn. I will not take today as an opportunity to mope. I will not label Mother’s Day as a melancholic day. Today I will remember and honor my mom by smiling. I will honor my mom by speaking life into others. I will honor my mom by honoring my siblings. And I will honor my mom by living life again and giving it my all. I will honor her.
I will also think of others whose mothers are not here to get their roses. I will think of those whose mothers are present but absent. I will think of the mothers whose children have died and believe they have lost their right to be a mother. I will think of the mothers who will spend Mother’s Day alone with not even a phone call expressing gratitude and appreciation of their sacrifices. I will think of the moms who struggle to be a mom. I will think of the mothers out there doing admirable things for their beautiful children. I will think of the mothers who are not biological mothers but stepped in to be a mother or a mother figure, and I will think of you all reading this. I will think of you as you reminisce about the days of having your mother. I will think of you, and I write to you so that you may know I am with you. I am with you. ❤️❤️❤️
Love Always,
Jaz ❤️❤️❤️
