When Old Grief Comes Knocking
October 13, 2026
This is so incredibly hard to write. I’ve had these thoughts and memories swirling around in my head for a while now. Every time I tried to put the words into clear sentences, I found something else to do. But here I am, sitting down with a coffee by my side, on a beautiful October New England day, forcing myself to do this.
A few months ago, a close friend of mine posted to her Instagram stories that she was going through something. She'd be taking a short break from her business and posting for a while. She didn’t mention anything specific but asked for prayers and assured that everything was going to be fine. I immediately sent her a message letting her know she was in my prayers and that I was there to support her and listen whenever she needed me.
She reassured me that everything was going to be okay but shared that she'd been diagnosed with breast cancer and would be starting treatment soon. And it was in that moment that I felt a familiar punch to the gut… like when my mom called me many years ago and told me that she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Or when my dad called me years later to tell me mom’s breast cancer came back and that this time it had spread. Or when another close family member called me to tell me that she too had been diagnosed with breast cancer, but that it was caught early and everything was going to be fine.
My mom passed away in January of 2010. She went through treatment, and we thought the cancer was gone. But just two short years later, it returned, and my life would never be the same. Once the cancer came back and we learned it had spread, it wasn’t a matter of if we would lose her. It was a matter of when. I saw my mom change. There was a sadness to her that was never there before. For a while, it felt like she was a shell of herself. And then, just after Christmas 2009, things got even worse.
The end was close, but you know what, there was some peace in that. Mom wasn’t going to suffer anymore, and just a day or so before she passed, that spark in her personality returned so we could see her one more time. As difficult as those days and hours were, that truly was a blessing.
A lot has happened in my life since January 2010. For starters, I was single when my mom died. Lonely with no children and desperately wanting a family of my own. Later that year, I forced myself to apply for social work graduate programs. I ended up at Tulane in New Orleans. Wouldn't you know it, that's where I met my then boyfriend, now husband.
Mom would have loved our wedding so much, and a dear friend found a way for her to be there. She asked me for a photo of my mom on her wedding day, had it printed, put it in a mini-frame and tied it around my bouquet. I thought I’d be so sad that day, but the happiness was too powerful. My sister did all of the crying for me.
Then, a few years later, along came my son. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that my mom would have been obsessed with him. She always used to sit with her other grandchildren when they were little and do math drills with them. For some reason, even though she isn’t around to do that with my son, he’s a math whiz. Like, truly. He’s obsessed with doing tough math equations and challenging himself to do harder and harder ones. He’s in 4th grade doing 8th-grade-level math, and I swear my mom still has something to do with that.
One thing grief has taught me is that life goes back to normal,
and yet normal will never be the same.
Like I said, a lot has happened in my life since mom passed almost 17 years ago. I wish she was here for every single thing – the good, the bad, the ups and downs. She always had a way of making me feel like I could handle whatever life threw at me, even when I wasn't so sure myself. My strength and resilience come from her.
My mom taught me how to play tennis, she taught me to be kind, and I think most importantly, she taught me to stand up for myself. No one spoke her mind more confidently or listened to her friends' differing points of view with more respect than my mom.
And speaking of friends… all of these thoughts and feelings came rushing back when I learned of my friend’s diagnosis. Missing mom intensely. Being so grateful that I had her. Worrying about my friend. Wishing there was something tangible I could do but knowing that the best thing I could do was pray and hold onto my faith, even when that felt like the hardest thing to do.
And realizing that even though almost 17 years have gone by, there’s not a single day that I don’t miss and love my mom.
I’m also so happy to report that my friend has finished treatment and is doing fantastic. News that I am so grateful for.
One thing grief has taught me is that life goes back to normal, and yet normal will never be the same. My mom has missed a lot, that’s for sure. But through every milestone, her influence in my life is still strong. She remains with me and in me. Always.
