Every time the world feels just a little too much to bear, my mom has made her presence felt in some form of the other.
Losing my mom was one of the most painful things I've had to live through. Growing up, I'd become so used to having her around for every school recital, sports event, graduation, birthday party, and heartbreak that I didn't even realize just how much her supportive presence had defined those moments. Without even realizing it, I'd taken her unwavering support and love for granted, and it was only after I lost the luxury of showing up at her doorstep after a bad day that I truly understood how heavily I'd come to rely on her.
Moving on with my life after her death wasn't easy. I simply didn't know how to deal with the excruciating pain and sense of loss that weighed me down like a rock chained to my ankle. However, just as I began to unravel, she showed up. It wasn't the same, but it was her nonetheless. I just knew. After weeks of struggling to climb out of bed, one day I woke up with an inexplicable craving for blueberry scones from the patisserie around the corner. On any other day, I'd have brushed the thought of food and returned to my pity party. But that day—that unforgettable day—something came over me and I mustered up the strength to climb out of bed and step back out into the world. A world without my mom.
As I dragged my feet down the street to the patisserie, I noticed a 20-something-year-old with striking emerald blue hair a few steps ahead. My eyes lingered on her hair as I put one foot in front of the other. "That's mom's favorite color," I thought. Any and every thought related to my mom had come to bring with it a stomach-churning pang of pain and as I braced myself for the jolt, my ears picked up on a familiar tune. It was then that I noticed the ukelele in the emerald blue-haired woman's arms. I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that she was singing Jed Madela's "Forevermore."
My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there in the middle of the street listening to her sing the tune I'd heard my mom sing around the house a hundred times. I just wanna love you forevermore... And I wanna hold you just like before... And maybe someday we might just find a way... And we can love forevermore, the woman sang. Right there I knew my mom was watching over me even from beyond the grave. I felt her. That familiar warm presence that made everything better. Here she was, making sure her little girl would be okay.
Since then, I've kept my eyes and ears wide open. Every time the world feels just a little too much to bear, my mom has made her presence felt in some form of the other. Once it was a blue jay at my window. Another was an unexpected smile from a random lady on the subway who had the kindest hazel eyes I've ever seen. A song on the radio delivering a message from the beyond just as I neared my breaking point at the end of a particularly difficult day. She's always there; bringing me hope, love, and the memory of her warm embrace.
This has been the one thing that's gotten me through life after her death. Knowing that she's watching over me and that just like before, she'll show up when I need her the most. Even death wouldn't come into between us and until we're reunited someday, that's all I need to get through this. I love you, mom. I always will.