Ambiguous Grief this Mother’s Day
Grief about distinct loss is disorienting enough. Did you know there’s also ambiguous grief—like grieving who you thought someone was or the potential of them?
For most of my life I’ve felt this way about my mom. As a kid, it always felt like something was missing between us that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I figured that something was different about me and if I could just figure that out maybe I could bridge the gap I felt.
When I realized I was queer (as a little kid) I wanted to do back flips & cartwheels from the sheer Joy of finally knowing why I felt so different from others.
It took me about 7 years of Knowing to come out to my mom—and, it didn’t go well. It was our first distinct rupture and y’all, we haven’t been able to recover in nearly 20 years. I learned some significant things about who she is & who I am that day that I’m still piecing together.
My mama is a fiery, audacious, outspoken & giving Christian boomer Taurus from Nigeria. A beautiful gap-toothed educator with a heavy accent—she believes there is a “right” way to do things. I remember her as a person who was often singing, smiling, and playing pranks. She was also a heavy worrier—about me or any my 5 siblings, about work dynamics, or money. And when she got particularly worked up, she’d guilt-trip anyone in her vicinity into doing what she wanted in an effort to soothe her anxiety, or she’d pray. Most times both.
Conversations with her are…dynamic to say the least.
Because of how tightly she holds her identities, upbringing, traumas, & background, she believes there is a “right” way to Live, and that, “God didn’t make me that way” (she doesn’t say ‘queer’) and she often prays that I’ll “change my mind.”
I realized last year that she’s not budging on her belief of the “right” (cis-het/straight) way to Live. But it was this year that I found the Courage and Will to stop holding on to the Hope.
So, this past Mother’s Day I let myself boo-hoo snot & teary-eyed cry as deeply as my inner child needed. I let myself say aloud (loudly) “I miss my mom!” Surprising myself by saying this maybe for the first time quite like this…
And those 5 minutes were so cathartic. (Children don’t often cry for very long when they’re allowed to & their tears are welcomed).
As I wiped my tears, I told my inner little one that it’s ok to Miss my Mom. It’s Ok to miss who I thought she would become, who I hoped she would be. It’s ok to be sad that she never became that person. I may not have met that person, but I know her in my heart. And I’m grieving the mom figure who would have celebrated me when I came out. The one who would have been close to me Now & maybe read up about Queer culture to be a good ally & advocate. The one who would have asked questions, genuinely curious, and been there by my side as I navigated community-building & dating as a young adult. The one who would see & be proud of the work that I do today supporting BIPoC queer & trans folx—knowing that I inherited the heart to love & serve the most marginalized from her.
It hurts too much to emerge from my mom’s body and to ultimately not recognize her soul. She’s not who I hoped she would be. But I recognize that maybe she feels this same grief about me—and in a twisted way, there’s another point of connection between us.
Sometimes Love isn’t meant to be Up Close — sometimes the distance gives the Love room enough to Grow.
If you’re at a place where you feel the need to love your mother from a distance, know that you’ll survive it—especially if you don’t fight it. Some days will be really hard. Some tears will feel hotter & heavier than others. But the less we resist, the less hard it has to be.
It’s hard enough as it is.
And if you have to love your mom from a distance because she’s transitioned on, her mind isn’t quite what it used to be, or a relationship or substance has taken the place of her living authentically–know I’m with you, standing in solidarity beside you, feeling this too.
Know that your angels, ancestors, and guides are with you. And we’re all squaded up to hold you energetically through this Mother’s Day season.
We’re gonna get through this together.
Here are some Mother’s Day Tarot Readings I’ve channeled through the years as I’ve been processing this grief. May there be a message here to support you:
Until the next time we share time & space…take really good care of you.
