Motherless Daughters of Los Angeles Where's Grandma?

“Where’s Grandma?” “She died honey” “Is she coming back?” “No, when people die they never come back” “Why not?” “We don’t know why. It’s just the way it is.” “Well I don’t like that” “No, honey, me either” I’m a bit resentful that I had to have that conversation with my son. I’m sad for him that he won’t ever know his Grandma. I’m sad for her that she’ll never know him. I know that she would have loved and cherished him. She might have even been able to say, “Oh, that’s just what you did when you were two.” Mostly, I’m sad for me not to have her help, her guidance and her love at a time when those things would be really nifty to have. Growing up without Mom was hard but being a motherless mother is even harder in some ways. It has made me fully realize the enormity of my loss. When my little boy runs to me with his arms outstretched and says “Mommy!!!”, it strikes me how powerful our bond is. The other day he said, “Mommy, I love you all the way from here to the other side of the world and back again. That’s how much I love you.” I can only guess that I must have loved my mother that much too. Since I was seven when she died I don’t have that many memories of her but I do remember being with her and feeling safe. I often think about what would happen to my little boy if I died and I wonder how many mothers who still have their mothers think about that. I imagine it crosses their minds but for a motherless daughter it’s a regular thought. Mommy is the one person in the world you think you can always turn to and who will always be in your court no matter what. Even though being a motherless mother is one of the hardest things about being a motherless daughter, there are times when I look into my little boy’s eyes and I feel whole. I feel like I’m healing by having that mother/child bond again. I can’t imagine my life without him and I hope he never has to live his young life without me.