After The Last Embrace

“When a Mother Leaves, the World Breaks”

They say no one is ever ready to lose their mother. And it’s true. Because you don’t just lose a person — you lose your origin, your refuge, the voice that called you my child even when you no longer knew who you were.

When a mother dies, it’s not only her body that fades. A part of the world goes silent. A part of language disappears. A part of the soul dims.

She was everywhere. In the gestures you inherited. In the phrases you repeat without realizing. In the way you care. In the way you cry. In the way you love. And when she’s gone, all of that feels suspended — as if time had stopped, as if the air had grown heavier.

The death of a mother is a grief that never ends. It changes shape. It settles. You learn to carry it — but it never vanishes. Because she was root. She was story. She was home. And now that home is empty. Not on the outside — but inside.

There are days you feel her close — in a song, in a scent, in a recipe, in a word only she used. And there are other days when the absence is so vast it doesn’t fit in your chest — when you need her more than ever, when you’d give anything for one more hug.

And though the world goes on, you are not the same. Because there’s no one left to call when everything falls apart. No one to tell what no one else would understand. No one to look at as if she were your beginning.

But something remains — her love, her strength, her way of existing within you. Because a mother never leaves completely. She stays in the way you live. In the way you endure. In the way you love.

I write this for you — for everyone who has lost their mother, for those who still search for her in dreams, for those who carry her in their skin, in their voice, in their soul. Because your pain matters. Because your story deserves to be told. Because your love doesn’t fade with death.

🌿 Another Perspective: How to See the Loss of a Mother

Your mother lives in you. In your gestures. In your words. In your way of caring. In your way of loving. She’s not here physically, but she’s in every part of you she ever touched.

You are not alone in your grief. Many have felt that emptiness — have learned to live with it, have found ways to honor her, to remember her, to keep moving forward without forgetting.

Your love doesn’t need justification. Even if there were wounds. Even if words were left unsaid. Even if silence remained. Love is greater than all of that.

And though it hurts today, that pain is also proof that you were loved, that your story had roots, that your heart knows what it means to belong.

🤍 From Me to You

If you’re reading this with your heart tight in your chest, if you’ve lost your mother and don’t know how to go on, I want you to know — I’m with you.

I still have mine, and that’s why I write this with respect, with love, with awareness — because I know one day it will be my turn too.

And here I am, writing for you — so you don’t have to pretend. So you know your pain has a place. That your story matters. That your love still lives.

You’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re grieving.

And here, your grief is embraced.

I embrace you from here,

— Luz 🤍