Julia’s Story

Dear 8-year-old Julia,

You didn't deserve to have your mom taken from you so soon and unexpectedly. It wasn't your fault. It had nothing to do with anything you did, or didn't do. Nobody, you or anyone else , could have stopped it or changed it. She didn't want to leave you, she had no choice. You didn't want to lose her , you had no say. You will feel robbed that you never got to say goodbye, or see her one last time when she was in the hospital; but, she wouldn't have wanted you to see her and remember her that way. You will feel like you are eternally trapped as that 8-year-old little girl who just wants and needs her mom , even when you're an adult. It's okay to feel that way. You will always miss her. It's okay to feel that way, too.

She loved you with all that she was and all that she had and love doesn't end with death. You will grow up resenting all of the milestones and memories she won't be a part of. Your chorus concerts, dance recitals, proms, high school & college graduations, wedding day, and every holiday table will carry a palpable ache of emptiness. She will always be missing, and that fact will never stop hurting. You will wonder if you are making her proud. You will wish she was here to give you advice and hugs in all the hard times you will be forced to endure without her guidance. You will wish heaven had a phone so you could talk to her and hear her voice and her laugh. You will cry countless tears, and none of them will bring her back. You will feel an uncontrollable jealousy towards friends and strangers who still have their moms , seeing photos of them shopping, going out to lunch, and just sharing ordinary moments, so many of which were stolen from you quickly & cruelly. You will ask yourself, "Why me? Why my family?" But why not you? Why not your family? Death spares nobody. No one is immune or exempt.

You will search for ways to honor her and keep her love & legacy alive. You will search for people whose love feels like hers, but find that you will never truly fill that vacuous void; that massive hole in your heart. It will hurt less over time, dulling to a muted ache (which will make you question yourself, your grieving, and whether you're doing it "right.") Spoiler alert: there is no right. There is only your heart and your hurt and your grief and none of it will ever be wrong. You will save yourself a lot of anguish if you realize this sooner than later. And, she doesn't want you to suffer indefinitely to prove how much you loved her. She wants to see you happy and thriving. She does not want the end of her life to be the end of yours. This I can promise.

It's not fair that she's gone, and it never will be. It's okay to be angry. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to wish for things that will never be. But you still can, and will, have a beautiful life. You lost someone you loved deeply, but you did not die. It's okay to move forward and live your life, keeping her in your heart always. Moving forward doesn't mean letting go. Grief lasts as long as love does: forever. Your grief will always be a part of you just as her love will always be. Find peace in this permanence.

And, last of all: you will be okay. You will never be the same, nor should you be. But that is a testament to the love you had and lost. In the words of Anne Lamott, you will learn to dance with the limp.

Just keep dancing.

Love,

34-year-old Julia