How Losing My Mom Taught Me to Live Fully

My Mom’s Death Saved My Life

We think we have time. Time to heal, to say the words we’ve left unsaid, to fix what’s broken. But sometimes, life doesn’t wait for someday.

I used to believe there would always be a "later." Later, I’d heal from my pain. Later, I’d forgive the people who hurt me. Later, I’d live the life I truly wanted. Later, I’d make enough money to spoil my mom the way she deserved. But instead, I was stuck in a cycle of anger, resentment, and self-destruction, numbing my trauma with partying, drinking, smoking, and drowning myself in busyness.

And then, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. She’d never smoked a day in her life, always had perfect health, and lived with a heart so kind it put saints to shame. It didn’t make sense, and I spiraled further into my belief that life was unfair. But what started as a tragedy became the wake-up call that saved my life.

The Stories That Keep Us Stuck

For years, I lived in stories that kept me small. I resented my mom for staying with my abusive dad, for choosing him over me in moments that mattered. I avoided her because being around her meant being near my dad, and I couldn’t face the pain he caused me. I truly despised him. I lost so much precious time with my mother, caught between escaping him and resenting her for always choosing to stay with him.

I told myself I was the victim—of her choices, of his cruelty, and of life’s inherent unfairness. These stories felt like justification for my self-destruction. As long as I had someone or something to blame, I could avoid facing the real issue: myself.

I didn’t realize I was choosing the easier path—the path of a victim. Being a victim is effortless. It lets you point fingers instead of taking responsibility for your life. I had convinced myself that life was unfair, that it didn’t matter, that there was no point in trying. “What’s the point? Why bother? No one loves me.” These thoughts became my prison, keeping me stuck in pain and despair.

But here’s the truth: these stories are a trap. They don’t free you—they slowly destroy you. My story nearly killed me.

The Wake-Up Call

When my mom got sick, everything changed. I moved into the hospital to be by her side, determined to keep her from feeling afraid or alone. It wasn’t easy. I had to quit drinking, smoking, and using drugs because I couldn’t risk messing up while caring for her. For the first time, my love for my mom was stronger than my love for my vices.

As an only child with no support, the weight of it all was brutal. I did everything myself, a learned behavior from watching my mom shoulder the world alone. At the same time, I was grappling with my own existential crisis—the terror of losing the only constant in my life, the only person I believed truly loved me. I felt utterly alone, trying to hold myself together for her sake, determined not to let my pain or fear add to her burden. Inside, I was breaking, but I couldn’t let her see that. I had to be her anchor, even as I felt myself drowning.

I saw her slowly deteriorate—the strong, vibrant woman who had always been my rock. And as her body weakened, I was forced to confront the fragility of life. My mom, my soulmate, was slipping away, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

But in her illness, she gave me the gift of clarity. She taught me to see how much time I’d wasted resenting her, avoiding her, and living in anger. I began to see her humanity—not as a martyr, but as a woman shaped by her own traumas and insecurities. I realized she had spent so much of her life sacrificing for others because she didn’t believe she was enough.

She was enough. She always had been. But I was too trapped in my own pain to tell her that, and I lacked the awareness I have today. There are so many things I wish I could share with her now, so many moments I’ll never get to experience with her. It’s too late. As for the comforting words people say—“She’s always with you”—none of us truly know what happens after death. It feels like something the living tell ourselves to ease the unbearable weight of guilt and grief. What no one wants to hear is, the goal should be to give our love fully while we still have the chance.

The Lessons I Learned

My mom’s illness taught me lessons I wish I’d learned sooner—lessons I hope you’ll take to heart without waiting for your own wake-up call:

1. Time is the most precious resource we have.

Stop waiting for "someday." Spend time with your loved ones now. Heal your relationships now. Say the words you’re afraid to say now. Nothing is permanent—not pain, not resentment, and not time.

2. Rewrite your story.

Are you stuck in victim mentality, blaming others for your unhappiness? Start asking yourself different questions. Instead of “Why is this happening to me?” ask, “What is this teaching me?” Shift from resentment to empowerment.

3. Love yourself first.

Fill your own cup before trying to pour into others. It’s not anyone else’s job to save you or love you—it’s yours. When you love yourself fully, you teach others how to treat you and attract love that aligns with your worth.

4. Acknowledge your mortality.

Life is fragile and unpredictable. Reflect on what truly matters to you and start living in alignment with those values. If you had only a year left, how would you live differently? What’s stopping you from starting now?

Lessons You Can Apply

My mom’s death saved my life because it forced me to confront truths I had been avoiding for years. I learned to break free from my destructive patterns, heal my relationships, and start living fully. But you don’t need a tragedy to learn these lessons.

Every day is an opportunity to rewrite your story. Take the time to reflect:

• Where are you holding onto resentment or avoidance?
• What’s one action you can take today to heal a relationship or step out of your comfort zone?
• How can you start showing yourself love and compassion right now?

The answers won’t come all at once, and that’s okay. Growth is a process. But don’t wait for "someday"—start today.

Closing Thoughts: Honor the Time You Have

If you take one thing away from my story, let it be this: life is short, and nothing is guaranteed. Don’t waste another moment being stuck in pain or waiting for the right time. Start living now. Show up for yourself and the people you love.

I live my life now in honor of my mom, so her sacrifices weren’t in vain. And I hope my story inspires you to honor your own life and the time you have left. Because nothing is permanent, but love—real love for yourself and others—is the closest thing we have to forever.

Resources to Go Deeper

• Journaling Prompts: Write down the stories you’re telling yourself. Are they empowering or disempowering? How can you rewrite them?
• Book Recommendation: Loving What Is by Byron Katie (on questioning your beliefs and shifting perspective).
• Mental Health Support: If you’re struggling with depression or trauma, reach out to a therapist or trusted support system. You don’t have to go it alone.

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