What Losing My Mother at 18 Taught Me About Life, Family, and Survival

My brother and I didn’t really understand mom would die until she breathed her last breath.

I was 18 years old, a legal adult, but nowhere near the dictionary definition of adulthood. My brother was sixteen. The tightrope of adult life was directly in front of me, and I didn’t know it at the time, but my safety net was being removed even before I’d taken my first step. No matter what direction my life took, I alone would bear the consequences of my choice.

Even though it was more than thirty years ago, I remember every moment of the pain like it was yesterday. On multiple occasions, fifteen-year-old me drove mom to the hospital as she threw up in a bowl alongside me. I navigated traffic as she dealt with her sickness while critiquing my driving ability — after all, she was still mom.

I remember standing in a hospital room alongside my brother while a doctor, standing next to my crying mother, explained the implications of her “terminal” disease. Later, I clearly remember knowing her trip to hospice would be the last time she ever came home.

Finally, I remember every iota of time directly after her passing.

She looked cold lying in a bed without a blanket, so I asked the nurse to get one. To her credit, she obliged without a second thought. Soon after, I remember sitting in a mustard yellow-colored chair while the hospital chaplain explained “God’s plan” to me. I don’t recall all of what she said, but I remember the brass handles on the dresser in front of me.

What I am saying is cancer sucks.

As I’ve made my way into my fifties, I’ve been able to think of that dreadful experience more holistically. Don’t get me wrong, it was awful and life-altering, but some lessons came out of that heartbreaking moment in time which I carry with me today.

Each of Us is Greater than the Sum of Our Parts

When called upon, each of us is greater than the sum of our parts and can accomplish things we never thought possible. I didn’t see it until it was needed, but I discovered I had unused extra gears at the ready.

My brother and I, still kids, were tasked with making funeral arrangements for our mom. This task included picking out a casket and keeping it all together in front of her family and friends as everyone said their final goodbyes. If you’d asked eighteen-year-old me if I was ready to do that, I’d have laughed in your face.

Hell, fifty-two-year-old me would struggle with that task.

As I’ve grown older, I have learned a person doesn’t need a personal trauma to reach the level of the moment they are facing. Although we may not realize it, each day, we are required — often more than once — to rise to the occasion.

Control the Controllable

Death is an unfortunate part of each of our lives. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t run away from it. The only thing under my control was how I dealt with the situation while moving forward.

While I would love to write that I handled it well, and moved forward with grace beyond my years, I would be lying. Instead, I crawled into myself and filled the empty spaces in my life with the wrong things.

The value of experience tells me I tried to take on everything in front of me and became completely overwhelmed. It was impossible to control mom’s passing, just as I can’t control the seemingly thousands of outside factors that affect my life today (for better or for worse).

Looking back, controlling what I could and asking for help with what I couldn’t would have made things easier. Today, I try to start with what I can control and work backward. Also, asking for help isn’t nearly the chore it once was. Is it a perfect system? No — but it does make things a little less overwhelming.

Watch Out For Wolves

Part of the process of navigating such an incredible loss was discovering that I’d be let down by people who should have been lifting me up. Unfortunately, I learned that if I allow people the space to show me who they truly are, they eventually will.

Mom’s funeral and the weeks that immediately followed were a chance for the wolves to come out. The crazy came from every angle. We had a family member we barely spoke to during her life, announcing they were selling their home and moving in with us. A close family friend told us she’d seen mom in a dream and that our mother wanted her to have all of her belongings.

It was crazy.

Other moments were infinitely more sinister. While publicly celebrating our reverence for mom during her memorial, family members privately wondered why we didn’t just put her in a box and throw her in the ground. Even our trustees, the very people tasked with keeping our trust, shrunk from their responsibilities and left us to fend for ourselves.

Help Will Come From Unexpected Places

I was let down by people I trusted, but I found that help came from unexpected places. While the branches of our family tree decided to become super-villains rather than protectors for my brother and me, others played crucial roles for us.

When it came to my brother and me, people were divided into two camps:

• Camp A felt terrible and thought we were screwed.
• Camp B just thought we were screwed.

Both groups treated us like small children, telling us they knew everything would be okay while looking at us in such a way that made it clear they didn’t believe it.

A few of mom’s friends took a different path. They became counselors, not in the paid-by-the-hour “tell me how that made you feel” way, but in a “how are you” way. Even though I was not prepared to listen at the time, it was nice to have people to speak to. Although I knew (even at the time) they didn’t agree with every decision I made, they were rooting for me nonetheless.

The genuine compassion shown by people I barely knew meant a lot. It may have saved my life.

You Can Choose Your Family

Instead of circling the wagons to protect us from the world, our family saw my brother and me as an opportunity to improve their station. When they saw it wasn’t going to happen for them, they disappeared.

We were helped by neighbors and family friends we barely knew during a difficult time. During Christmases, we opened gifts in their home while eating meals from assigned chairs at their table. We were rarely alone, even though we were often by ourselves. When my life was anything but ordinary, these experiences provided a speck of normalcy.

I learned you can choose your family.

As each of us has gotten older, life has pulled us in different directions. However, I am forever grateful for the gifts they gave me without a hint of wanting something in return. I honestly don’t know where my life would be without them. We don’t share a last name, but I consider those people to be my family. No one can tell me otherwise.

Almost Everything Else Gets Better

I now understand the trauma of intensely painful moments doesn’t get better, but everything else does.

Nearly thirty years after mom’s death, I find myself missing her all the time. She was a very cool lady, and although not around for very long, played a big part in who I am today. I’m bummed she didn’t get a chance to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

The pain of her loss is something I expect to feel for the rest of my life. However, I’ve learned to look beyond that dark moment. Doing so has helped me find incredible joy in just about every other corner.

I’m married to a super-smart, witty, beautiful woman (my soul mate), and we have three incredible kids. Furthermore, my in-laws are a collection of the most incredible people on earth. I care deeply about each of them and consider them family — not “like” my family, but my actual family.

Though traumatic, my experience has taught me things about life which some people will never learn. I’ve traveled into the abyss and emotionally made it to the other side.

I think mom would be happy with how things have turned out.