Why I Mourn My Mother While She Is Alive
Ever since I was a little girl, I have been mortally afraid of the death of my mother.
It began when I was eight years old, sitting in the back seat of her car, when I very casually asked her, "Mommy, mothers only die in Disney movies, right?"
Now, my mother was always one to soften the truth with the light touch of enchantment. Scary tunnels were just portals to other planets, the loud clanking of pipes was just the ceiling communicating with the wall, and the occasional mice that scuttled through our apartment were just cursed footmen trying to be my friend. But there were some realities even she couldn't assuage.
"No, sweetie," she responded in her gentle, regretful way. "They die in real life as well."
I was inconsolable for the rest of the car ride, crying as though the entire earth had dropped out underneath me. I had been so sure, after all, that a mother dying was such an unimaginable tragedy that it could only be confined to the realm of technicolor fairytales.
Video: When Someone You Love Dies,There Is No Such Thing as Moving On | Kelley Lynn | TEDxAdelphiUniversity
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