An update...

Hello friends,

I won’t lie- 2023 was the worst year of my life thus far. Just a few weeks ago in December, I lost my mom. The pain is unfathomable. I was incredibly lucky to have a positive and uncomplicated relationship with my mom- in fact she always told me I was her best friend.

(TW: loss of a parent. The following isn’t a eulogy but an outpouring of grief- grief that is still incredibly raw and fresh. I haven’t been able to stop writing and journaling since I lost my mom. I am full of grief that needs an outlet and I wanted to share some of what I’ve written. Please take care of yourself and don’t keep reading if its too much for you now).

Despite coming from a huge family (my parents were together for just shy of 50 years, I have four siblings and more extended family than I can count)- I grew up with mostly just my mom. My dad traveled a lot for work and my closest sibling in age is 10 years older. For most of my life, it was just me and my mom. We were a package deal. I don’t know when it started but everyone called me her “sac a main” (French for handbag or purse). She never left the house without me. If you saw my mom, you saw me. I followed her like a little duck and now as an adult I see how I made all my life decisions with her in the forefront of my mind. I live in the town I grew up in because I couldn’t bear to leave her. I went to college locally because I missed her too much. I had a child early in my marriage because I dreamt of her helping me through labor and forming a relationship with her grandchild. Now that she’s gone I feel lost. Should I move? Do I even want more kids if they won’t know the best woman I ever met? How can I live a life she won’t know? Who will cheer for my accomplishments? No one will ever take as much pride in me as she did. 

Despite the pain it causes, I can’t stop reading our texts and looking at photos. I noticed a common theme in both. I see how much joy my mom took in the lives of those close to her. Her joy at my daughter painting a picture. Her excitement in sharing news with me about family and friends. The true pain she felt in a moment of sadness and her belief in prayer to see it through.  The way she always wanted to call me just to check in or stop by to see my face. Even at 34, she still worried for me, wanting to know if I made it home safely or checking in multiple times if I said my daughter had a fever or wasn’t feeling well. I’ve never felt such love, such attention to my life. And I know I never will again. No one will ever love me like that. But luckily she loved me so strongly, so deeply, that I could carry it with me for hundreds of lifetimes.

I have plenty of regrets in this life but none around the relationship I built with my mom. I Facetimed or saw her in person almost every day. She was present in the most important moment of my life thus far- the birth of my daughter.  We had inside jokes, we shared clothes and shoes. She taught me how to cook, how to drive, how to love.  She was there for all the big moments with a smile on her face.

She taught me the importance of community. Of doing my civic duty. She gave her love freely and to many. She was of the generation of “look good, feel good”. She was authentic to the core. If you looked up the word vivacious in the dictionary, you would see my mom. First and last on the dance floor. A caretaker to her core. She taught me the importance of education and career. Even though she retired almost 20 years ago, she still worked incredibly hard- she was even nominated to a position in the government in Cote d’Ivoire, which she served until she passed. She gave birth to five children, but I can think of dozens of people who think of her as their mom. Her presence was so large, so warm.

I’m brokenhearted because she isn’t here but I have the strength to survive it because she was. I’ll miss her forever with everything I am.

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thank you for reading,

Sarah