I wake up in a deep hole created in the mattress of my bed, looking at my phone and falling into a trance with no motivation to move. I miss my mother, and every precious moment we had suddenly runs through my head, making me feel as if my body is still here, but my mind is in another world. 

I sit in my room filling my ears with her playlist, wishing I could hear her annoying alarm repeatedly go off. Though I haven’t heard the ringing in forever, it wakes me up every morning. 

Walking around school or visiting family, I get comments like “I’m so sorry for your loss” or people I’ve never met asking me how I am doing. Forced to be nice and reply with a respectful “I’m good” or “Thanks,” it seems like every time someone sees me down it relates to my mother’s passing. 

Trying to sympathize with someone is hard when you haven’t endured the pain, but people try, and when they try, you really don’t have a choice of how to reply. They expect you to show gratitude for them, giving a slight inch of recognition. 

I would always be embarrassed when she would go off in public for my siblings and me, making a scene of how she wasn’t the one to be messed with. Little did I know my mother taught me to never suck up to anyone, and if I felt a sense of disrespect, address it. Not with an attitude, not creating conflict, but in a respectful way letting people know your boundaries. So I’d do the same and listen to my mom. 

Ever since she left I felt as if all my courage and confidence crashed down leaving me in a questioning state. How do I let people know I don’t want to hear it all the time? How do I go back to regular life without having to be reminded every second? Like a drum, a deep banging sound in my head pounding leading to anxiety. Speeding up, slowing down, speeding up and slowing down. 

Although I go days without crying, suddenly I became so cautious about everything around me. The radio, the TV, the lights and scents that fill the room. I pay attention to them looking for a sign that you’re watching over me, that you’re with me. 

You taught me discipline, confidence and independence when I couldn’t get it from the person I needed the most. Even though we had never said I love you every day, our connection was unconditional. The life of the party will always be missed.

This story was originally published on Farmers’ Harvest on October 4, 2021.