Checking in my family! Life DOES get worse

Ann-  so sorry for yiur troubles.  Losing your Mon at any age is very sad.  Hugs to you and yiur family.

Nancy

So so sorry to hear about your mom.  That's really rough and like getting kicked when you're down.

It sucks that death has to be part of our lives - it can rip you apart.  All I can tell you right now is that it does get better.  It takes a while, but it does.

-Tom

I am so sorry about your loss. This is a very unfortunate situation for you. I cannot sympathize to say that i know how that feels because i still have my mother. But i have lost a husband and 2 brothers. Yesterday would've been my 10 yr anniversary, and i just felt like it just happened yesterday. Just keep all faith in GOD. He makes no mistakes. You will see her again.

My heart goes out to you and your family at this terribly difficult time.

Your grief is raw and new and you deserve a lot of tenderness at the moment; the loss of your mom is an overwhelming event and you could not be faulted for having a rough time with food choices right now. Your head is elsewhere... and rightly so. I know mine would be too.

Sending hugs and love as you mourn such a huge loss in your life and remember your mother with fondness and joy.

Thoughts and prayers are with you!!

I'm so sorry. Take care of yourself one day at a time. 

I am so sorry to hear about your mom. I read this the other day and it really spoke to me. I hope it helps you, too. 

"Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the cir****tances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks. "

Colleen ((HUGS))

Oh Ann - I am so sorry for your loss!  How devastating to lose your mom at a time when you probably really needed her advice, love and comfort.  Saying "sorry" just doesn't cut it - I pray that the good memories will soon replace the sadness and that you'll feel her love surround you and support you.  

I am so sorry. So very sorry.

Ann - I'm so sorry to hear about your struggling and pain. I am thinking of you!!!! :(