A mother's daughter
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard “it must’ve been hard to have grown up without a mother,” “at least you turned out so well…” or just awkward, lingering silence from well-meaning individuals responding to the news that I lost my mother to a brain tumour when I was just six years old. Depending on the person, I’ll either politely agree before tactfully changing the topic or I’ll mention my father who did his best to raise three children on his own, and my older brother who started packing my school lunches the moment he was tall enough to see over the kitchen counter. But what I’d really like to say to these people is too long and detailed for a new acquaintance to hear, too deep and uncomfortable to share over most friendly dinners, and is overall too socially unacceptable for the death averse society we live in. So instead, I’ll share my thoughts with you and hope beyond the deepest of hope, that wherever in the world you are reading these words, it echoes the stories of your lost loved ones too.
