My beloved
My mother passed away two years ago.
And I’ve never been to her gravesite. Actually, she still hasn’t gotten one.
We possess her remains, and we are aware of what she wanted for them. It has crossed my mind to get a piece of jewelry crafted using some of her ashes since I’ve come across stunning instances of such items before.
However, I don’t have this feeling of needing somewhere to go just to see my mum.
My
relationship with my Mum
It was the most robust relationship of my life. She was the individual I shared the deepest connection with throughout my journey.
childhood
, my
teenage years
and as an
adult
as well.
I talked to my mum daily. Whether face-to-face, over the phone, or through texts. These ranged from brief exchanges to lengthy discussions. To be honest, it felt more like we were engaged in one ongoing conversation.
As I grew up, left home, and started a family of my own, I consistently kept in touch with my mum. We discussed everything from major life choices to minor details, shared our struggles and happiness, talked about our pets, exchanged thoughts on careers and friendships, troubleshooted broken household items together, voiced our concerns, chatted about the climate, caught up on news regarding my kids, and even spent time discussing mundane topics without any specific agenda.
View: Managing the loss and bereavement of dear ones. The post continues below this video.
The ‘nothing at all’ was everything as well; all the little things that don’t seem important — and often aren’t — but are a part of the fabric of life. It felt like there was no beginning to the conversation, and it also felt that it would just keep going.
Unfortunately, in cruel reality, there was an actual end. There were last words spoken and I’m grateful that they were loving ones.
I have said goodbye to people I love before. Pets too. My heart aches for the family members and pets that I feel so lucky to have had in my life that are no longer here.
My heart aches for my own condition.
Mum
more than anyone.
Emma lost her mother two years ago. Image: Supplied.
I still can’t grasp living in a world devoid of her presence, and I doubt I ever will. It seems absurd that life continues unabated even as someone dear to us passes away, since our own universe feels thrown completely out of whack and never fully recovers equilibrium—especially when such loss occurs prematurely.
That is one
reality of grief
The strange and occasionally disturbing sensation that things aren’t as they should be. The sense of something vital being absent when it ought to be present. Despite the daily rise of the sun, the consistent azure hue of the skies, the falling rains, the changing seasons, the transition from Queen to King, fresh tunes playing on the radio, newly bought garments, a playful pup joining our household, a marital split, my offspring maturing, and me growing older—everything proceeds normally yet simultaneously seems awry.
All these topics would have intertwined throughout our discussion. Topics I would’ve covered with her, queried her on, as well as aspects she would’ve disclosed to me.
She isn’t here at the moment.
The brutal truth of my situation
Mum’s death
It constantly lingers in my thoughts. At the same time, there’s this sense that our connection endures. As though she remains close, somehow. That she understands everything I would’ve shared with her and every question I wish to pose.
The discussion seems to go on indefinitely.
I simply cannot reach out to her via telephone or send her a message, nor can I painfully listen to her voice. What was once an exchange filled with physical elements has transformed into a sense of connection and being present. This isn’t like connecting through mediums or psychics—though perhaps it involves something similar—but rather, a sensation that she remains close. A belief that she stays connected specifically for those who cherished and relied on her the most. The thought that I bear her within me—not merely because of the brown eyes inherited from her which reflect back at me whenever I gaze into a mirror—but also deep inside my heart and woven throughout every aspect of my life.
Emma alongside her mother. Image: Supplied.
At Mum’s
funeral
I came across a poem I had written for her following her passing; it encompassed everything that would remind me of her, and they were numerous.
Witnessing these moments now intensifies the sense that she is present, so I cling firmly to this belief. Although I would sacrifice nearly everything for her return — and for her health — I am aware that she remains with us.
I understand that I don’t require a specific location to see my mum or a memorial built for her. A space will come into being when we’re prepared, yet I’m aware she won’t be limited to just that spot since she’ll continue to be present with us wherever we might find ourselves.
Across Australia, there are 3.9 million women who have lost their mothers, carrying this loss subtly within their daily lives. The observance of Mother Loss Awareness Week will take place from May 3rd to 10th, 2025. To learn more about available resources and support, visit the Motherless Daughters website.
https://www.motherlessdaughters.com.au/
.
Emma Steggles is a counsellor by day and a writer by… well, whenever her three energetic kids and their tiny, playful lap dog let her. Based in Newcastle, NSW, she finds writing to be a cathartic way to reflect on life, family, and all the messy, beautiful bits in between. Follow her on Instagram at @
emma.steggles
.
Interested in delving deeper into grief? Check out these recommendations:
- The single action recommended by a grief specialist.
- ‘I ran out of room.’ The sorrow and pain of simultaneously losing two individuals.
- Anxiety, disappearing sex drive, and ‘mourning expression’: These are some unexpected aspects of losing someone close that often go unmentioned.
Feature image: Supplied.
