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We will always have questions. #grief © Chelsea

We will always have questions. #grief

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#griefquote #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother

I’m angry but I’m not sure who or what I’m a

I’m angry but I’m not sure who or what I’m angry at. Grief brought a lot of emotions and anger was one that surprised me the most. It’s fierce and it’s mighty but I’m not sure who exactly it should be directed towards.

Am I angry at God? For not giving my mother more time. For taking an immensely faithful woman too soon— before gray hair or retirement? Before she led others to be just as faithful as she was.

Am I angry at the doctors? For not saving my mother. For not healing her from the cancer that ravished her body? For not doing more to extend her life?

Am I angry at the disease? A disease that steals so many beautiful people. A disease that rips our loved ones away violently and without care? A disease that knows no limits or boundaries.

Am I angry at everyone who gets to live a long life— something my mother never got to do? Am I angry at the bad moms, the less than mediocre moms, the ones who get to stay when the good ones seem more deserving of additional breaths and memories?

Am I angry at my own mother? For leaving me before she taught me how to live a life without her? Before she taught me all the things a mother is supposed to teach her child. For missing every single thing that is to come.

Am I angry at the world for keeping some and killing others? For deciding my mom was ready to be lowered six feet under while billions of others get added time and added influence. For a world that has diseases that deplete great people of the life they deserved.

Am I mad at death itself for sneaking in and taking a woman who had so much left to give and do and say? A woman who loved and lived beautiful and so very much deserves to still be here.

I’m so angry.

Angry that she’s gone. Angry that she’s missing each new day and each new accomplishment. Angry that she doesn’t get to be here for her daughters or her grandchildren. Angry that her time expired before all the other mothers I know. Angry that her goodness wasn’t rewarded with something as simple as additional life and living.

Grief brought anger.

I’m not proud of it but it’s a reality of grief’s impact. I’m not… CONTINUED IN COMMENTS…

She’d still be here…. © Chelsea Ohlemiller:

She’d still be here….

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#grief #griefquote #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother

Motherless. A term that never entered my vocabular

Motherless. A term that never entered my vocabulary until after my mother passed. Suddenly people used this word to describe me and my recent loss.

I hated it. I still do to this day. Something about it sparks a sensitive spot in my soul.

I am not motherless. My mother just resides in a new location since her death. I am not without a mother. She may be gone from this earth but I am still her daughter and she will always remain my mother.

Her death did not steal her beloved title. Her death did not leave me motherless, for a part of her will always remain inside of me.

She is and will always be my mother. Here or there, alive or deceased. She is my mother, always.

I could never be motherless because her love and the bond we shared cannot be erased by her leaving this earth. They are endless, no matter where she might be.

I am her legacy. I am her daughter. I will never be motherless.

xox, Chels

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#grief #griefquote #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother

💗💗💗 © Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandha

💗💗💗

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#grief #griefquote #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother

I open the text to see a house listing— my mothe

I open the text to see a house listing— my mother‘s house. Truthfully it’s not hers anymore, we sold it shortly after she passed. In my eyes, it will always be hers, she built it and we filled it with memories for decades. Because of that it will forever be hers to me.

I’m surprised by my intense emotion. It looks like sadness but feels like heartbreak—like I’m mourning this house all over again. Never has a “For Sale” sign felt so harsh and unexpected. The first one wasn’t easy but it was placed there by us, a choice made out of necessity. This one, placed by the new owner, a choice made for change.

It doesn’t look right or feel right. The doors are blue, aqua to be exact. The tree my grandpa planted is gone, as if it never existed. The yard is bare and empty— mirroring my heart and the hole that seems to have appeared. I know it looks different because it is different, but I don’t like it. I don’t like the changes or the feelings that have risen from the sign boldly declaring change, right there in the yard.

I click on the link and scroll through additional pictures. The house is unrecognizable, with the exception of one room— the purple bathroom. Of all the rooms they could have changed, of course this is the room left untouched, it was my mother’s favorite. It seems fitting they kept this one delicate space, unchanged and still reminiscent of the influence she carried graciously.

I cry a little more with each photo highlighting all of the changes and transformations that have occurred since we sold it. Funny how the house has changed just as much as I have since grief entered the equation. Grief leaves nothing untouched. It’s traces are everywhere.

I know my mother is what made that place special and it’s simply a foundation of wood and brick, but it’s literally the house that held our secrets and our traditions. It’s the house that was built by hard work and sustained by love— unwavering and one-of-a-kind. It feels weird to now see another family come and go from a house we would have never left had my mother still been alive.
CONTINUED IN COMMENTS…

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