I have clung very tightly to the death of my mother. When she died in 2004, I was still completely bound to her. I had tried, as teenagers do, to find my own identity by pulling away and doing things she didn't want me to. But I never could get very far from her and, when I did, I tried to win her approval anyway. It wasn't until 2012 that I realized I was still waiting for her to come back. Even now, I have not completely comprehended that she won't. I have been told, however, that by letting go of the loss, sometimes we are able to get closer to the memory of our loved ones. I am still not sure I can believe that, either, but the alternative inserts grief and pain into everything I do. Anything that might seem like moving on feels like a betrayal: falling in love, pursuing a graduate degree, trying to be healthy. If I move on and find joy, I've reasoned, my mom might think I don't need her anymore. How can she come back if I don't leave room for her to fil
Well, at least two.