When my mother died, I lost a chunk of my heart. I do not think I will ever get it back. Your mother is your home. She gave you life. Unsurprisingly, life isn't the same without her. It loses meaning. In this crazy time of transition for me I have found that I have lost all courage, conviction, and confidence.
know these are just a few of the lessons I will continue to learn as I progress forward as a survivor. I'm so thankful that support groups for survivors exist and the wonderful survivor friends I have made over the years who have helped reveal some of these teachings to me. Being a survivor of suicide is a title I never expected I'd bear, but I'm finding my way through this grief journey little by little.
What I learned was, when we experience loss, there is a necessity for us to recognize the pain of that loss and reflect on how that loss is impacting our lives. There's a quote, by Anne Roiphe that I've become very fond of, "Grief is in two parts. The first is the loss. The second is the remaking of life."
Right now, I have six applications on my desk from animal rescue organizations in desperate need of help. Each one of them is unique -- yet, the urgency is the same. Their facilities are on the verge of collapse or closure. And, without the buildings -- what happens to the animals they rescue and save?
Mother's Day is here and it's my first one without Mom. My mother, Evelyn Levine, died on April 19, and it was a huge personal loss as well as the end of an era. She was the last of the Greatest Generation in her family. More importantly, she was an amazing mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, as well as my biggest fan.
Twelve months in and you accept that the month she died will always be the hardest. It's been 364 days since you held her hand and pulled the plug, but you still can't bear to listen to old voicemails, afraid of what her voice on tape might do to you (even though you've heard her laugh every day since she died).