Beka’s Story

My mother passed away on July 3rd, 2005, less than two months after my high school graduation and about a month before my first semester at college. My mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2003, when I was 16 years old. She went through numerous treatments, including chemo, radiation, and surgery. She was in remission for a while, but in 2005, the cancer came back aggressively, this time also attacking her liver. I remember, even at 18, knowing that was a death sentence. 

How do you prepare to say goodbye to your mom? 

The short answer is you can't. 

I spent the last few months of her life acting as if everything was going to be ok, but deep down I knew that I could lose her at any time. On the evening of July 2nd, I left to spend the night at a friend's house. I hugged and kissed my mom goodbye and we said "I love you", as we always did. The next morning I was awoken by a call from my dad that my mom had been hospitalized and I needed to come right away. By the time I got there, she was on life support, something she made very clear that she never wanted to happen. My dad respected her choice and had them remove her from the machines keeping her alive. My last few moments with my mom were spent telling her goodbye and that I loved her. I can only hope she heard me. 

That night I came home. My dad allowed me to have a few close friends stay with me. I did not cry. I just allowed myself to remain numb. The next day, the 4th of July, I celebrated with friends and family and allowed myself to ignore the profound loss I had just suffered. I did not cry. On July 5th, I attended my mom's funeral. I watched as they buried her. I was surrounded by mourning friends and family who were openly expressing their heartbreak and grief. And still, I did not cry. 

The next month I was off to college. It was my first time living anywhere else besides my childhood home. I couldn't name it then, but I was suffering from severe depression, anxiety, and trauma. I spent a lot of time alone in my dorm room wrestling with the tremendous weight of grief. To my classmates and friends, I seemed well-adjusted. I attended classes and events, I went out with friends, I participated in extracurriculars. But inside I was suffering and I knew none of my peers could understand. 

I spent the majority of my twenties filling the void in my heart with distractions. I worked a lot, drank a lot, and did everything in my power to not be left alone with my feelings. It wasn't until I started seeing a counselor in my late twenties that I started to process my trauma and grief in a real and healthy way. 

Now in my thirties, I still find myself avoiding spending too much time with my grief. Some days it feels so heavy that I couldn't possibly hold it. Some days I can talk freely about my mom and remember all the wonderful times we had together. The one strange and unfortunate circumstance I find comfort in is the fact that the majority of my close friends have lost a parent. My partner lost his father at a young age. His best friend lost his mother a few years ago. Right now I can think of at least eight of my friends who have also suffered the loss of a parent. Unknowingly, I have created my own little community of shared experience: grieving the loss of a parent. It's not a perfect group, we still avoid feeling our feelings at times. But we understand each other, we support each other, we love each other, and we give a safe space to one another, allowing us to journey through our grief and come out the other side feeling a little less broken.