Motherloss

My motherlessness came as the result of years of abuse, betrayal, rejection, and finally a fourteen-year estrangement. During our time apart, I realized that whether I had a relationship with my mom or not – I was motherless - and I mourned the loss of the mother she could have been - but was not.

Our separation did protect me from further injury and was essential for healing from my abuse. Nonetheless, after I had largely healed from my mistreatment, the pain of estrangement remained.

Estrangement is an unnatural loss. Whereas death is “an act of God,” estrangement - or the need to estrange - feels like the ultimate rip-off. Oh how I wished my mother would acknowledge my abuse, apologize and become a loving mother.

With death, we have to accept the finality of our loss. With estrangement there is often hope of reconciliation. Hope that the mother-love we have always sought will finally come our way.

The estranged adult child doesn’t carry the loving essence of a mother, but instead carries painful memories of their mother and of rejection. When emotional hardships befall an estranged child, we often long for a mother’s love. We search to fill the void created in our hearts by the lifelong emotional absence of a mother.

Estrangement is like the amputation of an intricate part of ourselves. It’s a soul injury. We are alone in the world, floating like a leaf in the wind, homesick; yet, not able to find our home. My mother was the missing link in my life, disconnecting me from my family history and from the roots of my gender.

The most difficult aspect of motherlessness is the sense of aloneness. Sometimes, no matter how much emotional work I did, I still felt the “void” and I found it necessary to turn to my sense of spirituality. When I ached for “home,” I visualized Christ on the cross. In the human sense, Christ was completely alone. Yet, Christ was not alone. The Lord was with this beloved Child. For me, sometimes merely saying that God is with you doesn’t seem to be enough; however, visualizing Christ, suffering alone but not alone, gave me the strength to feel God’s presence meeting me right where I was.

“But now, this is what the Lord says –
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
And when you pass through the rivers,
They will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
You will not be burned;
The flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord, your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
Isaiah 43:1-3”

Sometimes, I imagined Christ’s unconditional love surrounding me like giant hands, tenderly holding me, loving me and keeping me safe.

God provided me with healing tears to wash away my heartache. The Lord sent me people who were willing to bear witness to my pain. God blessed me with daughters of my own so that I could experience a loving mother-daughter bond.

I thought about those in my life who did love me – my children, my friends, my partner, and I reminded myself of all for which I had to be grateful.

My father died when I was nine. I kept his picture next to my bed. Sometimes, before lying down at night, I looked into his eyes and remembered how much he loved me.

The pain of estrangement did lessen with time. As I peeled away each layer of pain, I experienced all the stages of grief until I finally reached a place of acceptance. In the end, the void made room for something more loving to grow in my life.