A mothers love, loss and spaces in between
Sometimes love is felt most deeply in the moments apart. This story reflects on a mother’s struggle with distance, a daughter’s honest words, and the loss of a dear friend reminding us that even when goodbyes come, a mother’s love never truly leaves.
In my career pursuits, I have found myself traveling and being away from my daughters for days, weeks, or even months. I must confess that I never get used to that separation, and it's always difficult, but also important for my career growth and ministry. However, there are times I have asked if it is necessary and said no just to be with the girls. This has also made me treasure the time I have with my daughters, as they know it's precious. Sometimes they do not allow me to use the phone. I also inform them in advance when I need to travel; they demand quality time, but goodbyes are always difficult, sometimes accompanied by a lot of tears.
Last week, my younger daughter told me that during my last trip, she missed me so much it felt like I had died. Her words opened a window into every child’s deepest fear and every mother’s quiet ache. Her words pierced my heart. I didn’t know what to say, but I heard her deeply. Since then, her words have echoed in me. It made me think of the children who are permanently separated from their mothers. Those who live with that permanent absence, who do not wait for a return home, but instead learn to live with a mother's memory. How unspeakably hard that must be.
This year, I lost a dear friend who struggled with mental health. I felt very sad, and I have struggled to find closure. I got the opportunity to visit her husband and two daughters recently. Although I had to reintroduce myself, I shared memories of their mother and their childhood. I showed them our photos, and the girls were so happy that they didn't want me to leave. I felt my friend's spirit present with us as I looked at her daughters and the wonderful job she did as a mother. In their laughter, in their warmth, in the resilience she left behind. It was as if love had outlived loss. My visit was just a drop in the ocean. I wish I could do more and be more present.
How can we genuinely be present in the lives of our friends who have gone before us, with compassion and integrity, without overstepping or rushing their family’s healing?My heart longs to find consistent and meaningful ways to walk alongside these children, to become a quiet extension of the love their mothers left behind. It may only be a drop in the ocean, but even drops create ripples.Because when mothers leave, love still remains, carried in the hearts of friends and family who choose to remember, to show up, and to keep that love alive.