Losing a parent is always heartbreaking, but facing it in your thirties is an unexpected blow. Before my mom passed away in July 2019 at just 58, I saw losing a parent in your twenties or thirties as tragic, though not entirely uncommon. But when I found myself in that exact position, it was nothing like I had ever envisioned.

At the time, very few of my friends had gone through a similar loss, making me a newcomer to a small and exclusive group. To make matters even more challenging, my mom’s death was by suicide. It’s a club no one wants to be a part of—one that offers no welcome or invitation. The depth and complexity of the grief that settled in after her death are difficult to put into words. I can only imagine it’s matched only by the unimaginable sorrow that comes with losing a child or spouse– of which I cannot imagine.

As the youngest and only daughter, I assumed responsibility of managing and organizing tasks and details for the coming days and services, which was fine by me… It allowed me to stay busy and most conversations were brief…I’d say all the right things and put on the facade that I was fine. Truth be told, the stress, mayhem and madness in the couple of years leading up to her death, genuinely left me unsure of how I was even supposed to or going to feel following her death. Handling funeral arrangements, sorting her things, and taking care of details became my focus, as I pushed my own grief aside and made sure my kids, uncle, brother and dad were doing ok. While daunting, lonely and exhausting, in hindsight that all played out much as I would have expected it. Though the day I realized I was checking in on everyone else and their wellbeing, and there’s no one circling back to check on me– because that was always my mom’s job and I never had to worry about or consider it– was a gut punch I didn’t see coming… though it would be far from the last.  

The thoughts, feelings, and emotions that flooded me after my mom’s viewing on July 21, 2019, are still hard to put into words. I had slipped into survival mode and thought I had started my journey through grief. But how do you process the loss of the one person who was always supposed to be there for you—guiding and supporting you? The one you knew you could always count on, who loved you unconditionally, no matter your mistakes or choices? Trying to mentally sort through the absence of that person is overwhelming… and then add the fact that they chose to leave on their own. Nearly six years later, I still don’t have the right words to capture the depth of this kind of loss. It’s fucking tragic.

She couldn’t be gone… I still needed her advice and help when it came to the world, parenting and dating- especially as I was navigating being a newly single mother. My kiddos adored their Nana and there was no one more important to them than her. I wasn’t ready to host my own holiday, start my own traditions or cook Thanksgiving my own way. I can tell you right now– it’s not the food or the candles, snacks, traditions of whatever sort that makes holidays and family time magic for you, it is 100% your mother. It didn’t matter how many hours I helped her get ready to host Thanksgiving or Christmas, the magic was in her hands. I never got the chance to discuss or re-write the family recipe for my great-grandmother’s pot-pie that she used to make with me when I was little– so that I could pass it on to my daughter and then hers. It’s a frantic feeling when you aren’t sure who to call, who to ask for help or advice. 

If we really believe what we say we believe- if we really think that home is elsewhere and this life is a ‘wandering to find home’ why should we not look forward to the arrival. There are, aren’t there, only three things we can do about death: to desire it, to fear it or to ignore it. The third alternative, which is the one the modern world calls “healthy” is surely the most uneasy and precarious of all.- C.S. Lewis

At 32 years old I was independent, opinionated and fun-loving heading back into the dating pool post-divorce. I always joked that I was about a 7 but with love for sports and a banging personality it rounded me out to a solid 10 haha. I never questioned my worth. I could talk to anyone, anywhere, from any walk of life and be completely confident in whatever it was I brought to the table. A blink of an eye and one year later, the same woman– the fun-loving version of me, no longer existed. The fear that people leave– “everyone leaves…always” was a foreign concept to me. Abandonment. Questioning if I was worth someone staying? Someone choosing me? I was a depressed roller-coaster of anger and emotional turmoil… a shell of myself that was numb to the point I felt nothing at all. Ruminating thoughts, worry, self-doubt, up and down, then full circle back to putting on a facade and smiling my way through small talk with people, saying all the right things to appear as though I was managing just fine. I am sure it’s shocking to hear– but I was in fact, not fine. I found myself in some whirlwind engagement with a guy from KCMO. Luckily he was truly a nice guy, but good god was he emotionally and mentally not mature and dealing with his own family drama and crazy ex-wife. I cringe looking back on that one– BUT, it could have been worse and I would eventually find that too haha.

As someone that has a degree in and a genuine interest for the field of Psychology, I was well aware of the Stages of Grief. It also wasn’t lost on me that we don’t all progress through the stages at the same pace, or even in the same order, but movement between stages and emotions is your key indicator that you’re working your way through them. I wasn’t. Initially I was, but at some point I just stopped entirely.

The 1979 Pink Floyd ballad Comfortably Numb from their 80 minute masterpiece album The Wall (arguably one of the greatest albums ever recorded and solid favorite of mine) suddenly was more lyrically relatable than ever. “The child is grown, the dream is gone, I have become comfortably numb.” The strain and contentious interactions within the band members had come to a head in July 1977 finishing their In the Flesh Stadium Tour. While performing for some 80,000 people… Roger Waters unapologetically leaned forward off the stage and spit into the face of a fan. After the fact, Waters was heard stating he felt isolated, resentful and alone on stage and wished sometimes he could build a wall between he and the crowds. He sought to protect what little of himself he felt he had left… and I felt that on the deepest level. *Yes, I got off on a little bit of a tangent– stick with me very long and you’ll become accustomed.

I remember sitting at the table in my kitchen for hours on end just staring. I never cried during the initial days and months following her death. I have never been a super emotional and expressive person, aside from with my kids, but this left me seriously questioning if I would ever feel much of anything, pleasant or not, ever again. Because of my aversion to sappy and super emotional interactions with people, friends gave me extra space thinking it was my preference– listen to me when I say, if you find yourself in the position to witness a friend experiencing something devastating/traumatic… Do not leave them to sort it or figure it out on their own. You don’t even have to have the right things to say– I didn’t need anyone to say anything at all, I just needed to know I had people there while I was experiencing such a devastating situation. I had a handful of people say they didn’t reach out because they felt weird or worried they wouldn’t say the right things. And while a couple of them just flat out were lousy people and not at all my friends (I’ll cover that in a different category and post) most just genuinely had no clue what to say or do. Pro tip- don’t call and ask if you CAN do anything for them… just do it. Go to the grocery and grab snacks and essentials that anyone will need or want and that you can’t go wrong with… then leave it at their door. Drop off meals or have things delivered– it will mean WAY more to them than you’ll ever know. And never underestimate the power and effect you can have on someone just simply reaching out to say you’re thinking of them and they are on your mind. Part 2 to follow… To Be Continued:

CB Key Insights

Losing a parent in your thirties, especially to suicide, is an unexpected and overwhelming experience. In the aftermath, I became emotionally numb and struggled with feelings of abandonment and worthlessness, masking my pain with a smile and nod. Despite my background in Psychology, I didn’t progress through the stages of grief as expected, and I felt isolated and lost. In the months that followed, I learned the importance of having support during such a difficult time, as small gestures from others can mean more than we realize.