Last Friday night, I decided to take it easy and opted to stay in bed watching Netflix instead of a night out with my friends bar hopping in West Hollywood. It was also an excuse to spend time on the phone catching up with my younger sister who had recently finished her 2nd year at Syracuse University and was home for the summer. I knew she was having a hard time adjusting to being back home, and she made it very clear she desperately missed living in her sorority house, tailgating 7 days a week and going for hangover breakfast every Saturday and Sunday on Marshal street.
To make matters worse, my dad's girlfriend of 5 years finally made the official move into our house and with myself and my older brother no longer living there, the dynamics were uncomfortable, to say the least. It's a move we all knew had to happen -- something we all understand is an important and necessary step in their relationship.
It's been 6 years since my mother passed away from ovarian cancer. I still can't quite believe it. There is a part of me that feels the loss is so strong and painful, as if she had passed away only days ago, but another part of me that struggles to remember her voice, her smell and the indescribable comfort I felt in knowing she would always be in my corner. One of the most beautiful gifts my mother left each of her children was a journal she had wrote to us when we were born. She had explained that after her mother passed away, she desperately wished there was a journal she could read that spoke about their relationship and life throughout the years. And so she made it a point to do exactly that for her children.
Each of us got a book. "To my daughter Julie: a few recorded moments from your childhood, adolescence and hopefully adulthood that I've shared with you through our lives together. Something for you to be able to look back on, a little laughter, a little crying, a lot to remember, a lot to hold on to." And so it has become a bit of a habit that whenever I'm home from LA (where I'm currently living) or when my sister is home from school, we will take a night, with a much needed bottle of wine, a full box of Kleenex and read our books. We'll travel down memory lane, read about a beautiful relationship and painfully remember an irreplaceable loss that is still living deep inside of us.
So when my sister brought up (halfway through our phone call) that she had spent the earlier part of her night reading "mummy's" book, I knew it was going to turn into a heavy conversation. Plus, we had already covered the topic of school, friends and most importantly BOYS. After a few minutes of her recounting journal entries, I heard her voice crack. She began to cry and asked me something that immediately triggered the same reaction in me. "Jules, I can't help but think if mummy were alive today, do you think she would still be proud of me?" It hit me like a shock through my spine -- I too had been asking myself that same question.
The beautiful thing about remembering and honoring someone you love is that you can use their legacy to make you better, to push you forward, and to remind you to be the very best person you can be. But this same commitment can also haunt you, making you question who you are, who you've become since they've passed, and most importantly whether or not they would still love and be proud of you if they were alive.
It's been 6 years since my mother has known me.
As I continue into my adult years, I wonder if my weekends filled with bars and booze, my recent questionable taste in men and weekly mistakes in both my professional and personal life would get her stamp of approval. Have I become an LA cliché, sucked into a world that unevenly focuses on materialistic goods, Instagram followers, selfies and how skinny your arm looks in a picture!?
And if so, is that really a reflection of who I've become, or just a reflection of the world I live in, the natural stages of growing up, and being caught up in things that as you evolve, you quickly realize are unimportant and insignificant. The reflection of a young girl who's 25, in a new city, meeting new people and being exposed to all different types of experiences. Is the fact that I caught myself the other weekend caring about a new purse by a designer I couldn't even pronounce 6 years ago a sign my focus is all wrong?
I struggle with how to manage entering into all the new stages of my life, attempting to hold onto the values I was taught by the one person who is no longer there to enforce them. Without the one person who would guide me to make the best decisions, to be the best version of myself, and to hold my hand through it all.
At times I have a fear of letting my mother down, of hoping she would still be proud of me and a loneliness that takes over my entire being, with the understanding that no matter how badly I want it, my mother will never be with me ever again. But as I work through those moments, the ones of self doubt that are common among all young adults in their 20s, I let them pass and hold onto my mother's words.
I have an unbreakable sense of comfort in knowing that no matter how much time has gone by what can never be erased is an internal foundation of the important values and morals my mother instilled in me. To be a kind, caring human being that understands the value of giving back and being of service to others. A loving and loyal daughter, sister and friend. An independent career driven woman (Hell Yeah)!! Most of all an understanding that the greatest focus, the only one that truly matters in this life is creating beautiful moments with the people you love.
Something I find interesting about loss is that it represents itself in a new, but equally painful way, at every stage of your life. The loss I felt at 19 is completely different than what I'm experiencing now at 25 and will no doubt be different as I get older. As hard as it is, I'm learning to embrace this feeling, to use this reemerging pain to teach me something new as I explore the different stages life has to offer.
So for now I guess I will take the advice I gave my sister. To believe in yourself. To understand that part of life is growing, changing and making mistakes. Most importantly that part of life is granting yourself the freedom to live your life authentically, to really get to know yourself by exposing yourself to as many opportunities as you can on this incredible journey. Above all else to let go of the internal and external chatter of your mind and listen very carefully to your heart; it will always tell you the truth.