Last week, I received a late-night text from my dear friend, Chloe. With her lively curls bouncing joyfully around her shoulders, Chloe’s personality shines just as brightly as her hair. Her texts usually bring a smile — often filled with silly GIFs, nostalgic photos, or amusing snaps of her children with adorable filters. So, when I saw her name flash on my phone, I felt a surge of happiness. But that joy quickly faded as I read her message, which hit me like a punch to the gut.
“Mom passed away unexpectedly tonight from a heart attack. My brother and I are making arrangements. The funeral is this weekend. Please come if you can.”
I stared at the screen, struggling to find comforting words beyond “I’m so sorry.” Ultimately, those exact words were all I could muster, because what can you say to someone who just lost their mother?
“Of course, I’ll be there.”
Chloe’s mother wasn’t just any mother; she was a familiar presence, often cheering from the bleachers at high school games, with her curly hair and a button featuring her daughter’s band photo pinned to her shirt. I remembered those moments when Chloe and I would steal glances at our moms, waving enthusiastically from their seats.
“That’s my girl!” her mother would shout.
“Go get ‘em!” my mom would respond, their cheers filling the air with love and encouragement. No matter how much we rolled our eyes, they never stopped.
Because isn’t that what mothers do? They’re there for every milestone — from your first steps to your first A on a quiz. They’re your one-woman cheerleading squad, the only person who can find pride in the off-key notes of a school band concert and exclaim, “That’s my baby! She’s going places!”
But just like that, Chloe’s safety net — her best friend, her rock — was suddenly gone.
It was heartbreaking.
At the funeral, I wrapped my arms around Chloe, who seemed lost in a crowd of mourners. I watched as she stood, dazed, by the lemonade table, her eyes drifting aimlessly through the room, much like a child who’s wandered off at a carnival. I can only imagine how she felt.
It’s moments like this that make me painfully aware that my own mother won’t always be here. The thought terrifies me. Despite calling her every day, sharing photos, and visiting often, I know that when the inevitable comes, I’ll feel just as lost as my friend.
Is anyone ever ready to say goodbye to their mother? I don’t think so. Saying goodbye means losing so much more than just a person. It’s letting go of homemade chicken noodle soup, cherished Halloween decorations, and the soothing sound of her voice on the other end of the line after a rough day. It’s the security of knowing that, no matter what, she’s there to hold you when you need comfort.
Even as an adult, married and raising my own children, I carry a part of my childlike self that still craves my mother’s love. And that part trembles at the thought of losing her.
After the service, I approached Chloe, who was absentmindedly tearing at the Styrofoam rim of her cup. “This hurts so much,” she said, wiping away tears. “I wish I had appreciated her more while she was here.”
“Chloe, she loved every moment of it,” I reassured her.
She nodded, and just then, her curly-haired son reached up, needing to be held. As she gathered him in her arms, a smile broke through her tears. “You’re right,” she said, kissing his tousled head.
I burst out of the funeral home, feeling a rush of overwhelming emotion. I pulled out my phone and said, “Call Mom.” The call went to voicemail, so I quickly texted, “Hey Mom, just checking in. Love you.”
Moments later, my phone lit up with her reply, “I love you too, baby.” I held my phone close, tears streaming down my face in that parking lot. The thought of losing my own mother is unimaginable. I can’t even bear to go there in my mind. My heart aches for Chloe and for myself. I wanted my mom, and thankfully, I have her here today. I’m grateful beyond measure, especially now that I understand how quickly life can change.
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Summary:
This piece reflects on the profound impact of losing a mother, as experienced by a friend. It explores the fear of eventual loss, the cherished memories tied to maternal love, and the heartache that accompanies such a loss. The author also emphasizes the importance of appreciating our loved ones while they are still with us.
Keyphrase: loss of a mother
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