Losing My Mother At The Age Of Nine

Written By Guest Blogger: Jaimee Tackney

I often worry I’ve forgotten everything about her. The way her voice sounds or the smell of her perfume. Losing a mother at only nine years old leaves a child with very little to hold onto. Many memories I have of her are ones spent in hospitals or doctor’s offices.

I shut out much of my grief after her passing. I remember my sister saying, “you haven’t cried yet, why are you so cold?” I went on that way for thirteen more years. Sure I cried when I was alone but never in front of anyone. It was bad enough that I was the girl who got voted Class President because her mom died that school year, I wasn’t about to let anyone else think I needed special treatment. The way I saw it was these are the cards I’ve been dealt and I have no choice but to carry on with my life.

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One morning, at twenty-two years old, I woke up with a heaviness in my chest and an uneasy feeling throughout my entire body. All I kept thinking about was my mom. She didn’t get to see me graduate high school and she won’t see me get my college degree. She won’t be at my wedding or in the delivery room when I give birth to my first child. Am I anything like her? Do I look like her?

It was as if my body needed to catch up to my brain. My body knew I lost my mother but my brain hadn’t processed the loss and everything that came along with it. Now instead of suppressing my grief, I embrace it. I ask everyone who knew my mother, about her. I often times even pray to her when I’m nervous about something or a big event is coming up. I am everything I am because of her loss and I am everything I’m not because of it as well. 

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