Living Through Grief

Grief After the Sudden Loss of My Mother

Nothing prepares you for the kind of phone call that changes everything.

One moment, you're going about your day—maybe running errands, making coffee, thinking about what to make for dinner. And then the phone rings. Or someone knocks at the door. Or time slows in some unexplainable way, and suddenly the words are being spoken, but your mind refuses to make sense of them.

"My mom died."

Even saying it now feels like a betrayal, like I'm repeating something that doesn’t belong to my story. Because it was so sudden. So violent in its abruptness. There was no warning, no time to say goodbye, no gentle unfolding. Just a gaping hole where certainty once lived.

The grief that follows a loss like that doesn’t arrive in stages—it crashes in all at once. Shock, disbelief, devastation, rage, confusion—they all come barreling in, layered on top of each other, vying for space inside a heart that’s already shattered.

For weeks, I would forget, then remember. I'd wake up in the morning and for the first few seconds, everything was okay. And then I’d remember. And the grief would rush in like floodwater, stealing my breath.

There’s something uniquely cruel about unanticipated loss. It steals not only the person but also your chance to say what needed saying. You never think the last conversation will be the last. I replayed ours endlessly, picking apart every word, clinging to her laugh, trying to freeze her voice in my mind like it was the last light before darkness.

People tried to help. They offered kindness, meals, space, company. But no one could reach the place inside me that had gone silent. I was hollowed out, disoriented, moving through the world like a ghost with skin.

And the guilt—God, the guilt. For things I said. For things I didn’t. For all the plans we hadn’t made yet, the birthdays we hadn’t celebrated. The grief was as much about the life that ended as it was about the life that would now never be lived.

I learned that grief isn’t something to “get over.” You don’t heal from it like you would a wound. You learn to live with it, the same way you learn to live with a scar across your heart. It becomes a part of you—a silent room in the house of your soul.

And eventually, you learn to carry it. Some days it's heavy. Other days, a whisper. But always there.

I still reach for her. In dreams. In the space between thoughts. In moments when I’m hurting or proud or unsure of myself. And while she’s not here in the way I want her to be, I feel her presence in strange and sacred ways. A song. A smell. A soft breeze on a hard day.

Losing her shattered me. But loving her still anchors me.

She is gone, yes. But not lost.

Not really.

If you've lost your Mother and have been struggling with difficult emotions, I would recommend the book Mother Hunger. I have briefly outlined the therapeutic tenets for a quick overview. However, this book is not for the delicate ladies. This book will immerse you in deep thought, so put on your seatbelt and have the tissues ready.

Mother Hunger: How Adult Daughters Can Understand and Heal from Lost Nurturance, Protection, and Guidance by Kelly McDaniel is a profound exploration of the emotional void many women experience due to unmet maternal needs. McDaniel introduces the term "Mother Hunger" to describe the deep yearning for the nurturing, protection, and guidance that may have been absent during childhood. This absence can lead to challenges in forming healthy relationships, self-worth issues, and emotional regulation difficulties in adulthood.

Overview of Key Concepts

1. Understanding Mother Hunger: McDaniel explains that Mother Hunger stems from three critical unmet needs: nurturing (emotional warmth), protection (safety and security), and guidance (direction and support). When these needs aren't fulfilled, individuals may struggle with feelings of abandonment, low self-esteem, and a pervasive sense of emptiness.

2. Attachment Theory and Its Implications: Drawing on attachment theory, the book discusses how early bonding experiences with caregivers shape our ability to form secure relationships. Inconsistent or inadequate caregiving can lead to anxious or avoidant attachment styles, affecting interpersonal dynamics throughout life.

3. Identifying Types of Mother Hunger: McDaniel categorizes Mother Hunger into different types based on which needs were unmet. For instance, a lack of nurturing may result in a constant search for affection, while insufficient protection can lead to chronic anxiety and trust issues.

4. Healing Through Self-Compassion: The book emphasizes the importance of reconnecting with one's inner child and practicing self-compassion. Techniques such as journaling, visualization, and mindfulness are recommended to address and heal the wounds of Mother Hunger.

5. Breaking the Cycle: McDaniel discusses how societal factors, including patriarchal norms, can perpetuate the cycle of Mother Hunger across generations. By becoming aware of these influences, individuals can work towards breaking the cycle and fostering healthier relationships for themselves and future generations.

6. Practical Strategies for Healing: The book offers actionable steps for healing, such as engaging in therapy, building supportive relationships, and developing self-care routines. These strategies aim to fill the void left by unmet maternal needs and promote emotional well-being.

7. Empowerment and Personal Growth: Ultimately, McDaniel encourages readers to view their experiences not as deficits but as opportunities for growth. By understanding and addressing Mother Hunger, individuals can transform their pain into strength and cultivate a more fulfilling life.

8. Mother Hunger serves as a compassionate guide for those seeking to understand the roots of their emotional struggles and offers a pathway toward healing and self-discovery.