It's Hard Being an Adult Orphan

Even though I experienced great exhilaration on yesterday, witnessing the first African American president to be sworn into office, the dawn of a new day, I still find my mood swiftly going downhill.

It's almost January 29th.

I find myself each year, knowingly and sometimes unknowingly, moving into a mood slump. You see, January 29th is the anniversary of my mother's passing from breast cancer. She left this world ten days after my sister's birthday. My mom died with me holding her hand and whispering to her about all the love in the room.

You'd think it would get easier with each passing year, after all it has been 10+ years, but it doesn't, never does, probably never will. There will forever be an empty hole in my heart that aches to have my mom back. An emptiness exists that I'd give anything to fill.

It's hard being an adult orphan. It's even harder accepting the fact that there is no one in my lifetime who will love me with the unconditional love she possessed. I try not to become jealous when I hear other people talking about their moms and Mother's Day is the hardest. Sometimes I ask God, "Why did you have to take my Mom? Why my Mom?"

I always had visions of my children, Brandon and Briana, growing up with the warm, nurturing support and wisdom of a grandmother. I grew up with a family of women---aunts, female cousins, play aunts, etc. and I know their power, love and sacrifice.

I dreamt of them (my children) having a loving, wise presence in their life who spoiled them and lavished them with things they didn't really need---like grandmothers are suppose to do before sending them back home to their parents.

Nothing in life has prepared me for my loss, my ache, my emptiness, my loneliness. Some things just are. Don't get me wrong, in my small inner circle, I have people in my life who I love, love dearly. They bring me much joy, happiness, laughter and peace. Peace is always a little harder for me to acheive sometimes. I smile, but if you look closely, the smile never fully reaches my eyes, my soul.

Yes. Life goes on. It surely does because it certainly doesn't stop for my grief---especially after all these years. Family and friends feel I should have gotten over it by now. But those who have lost a mom, you know that you never really do. How do you "get over" not having a mom?

My confirming thought is that I must go on because that's what she'd want. My mom would want me to live a full, joyful life. She'd want me to reach for my dreams with both hands spread wide and feet firmly planted. She'd want me to experience the beauty of a rose, appreciate the loveliness of a sunset and sunrise, revel in the vastness of an ocean and know that my destiny is waiting because a higher power has made it so.

We are all placed here for a reason, a purpose. My mom fulfilled her predestination and moved on to a higher plane. Me. I'm still here for a reason, so I should strive to live the best life I can and ask God to provide the direction and guidance I need to become the best person I can become. I'm still a work in progress. I make mistakes, but I learn the lessons.

Yes, it's hard being an adult orphan, but I know my mom watches over me each and every day. My personal guardian angel. I can feel her spirit and it's telling me to be strong and live my life. . . because life without living, without joy, without passion, is simply existing.