Losing mom

Life hadn’t been so normal for me. I’d lost mom when I was barely 14. Not even two months into High School. She’d been relatively healthy before she dropped dead of a Brain Aneurysm. Everyone mourned her death. They looked at me knowing how much harder it was for me. I’d been struggling with the Learning Disabilities I’d been diagnosed with in first grade. Having Autism didn’t help. I already moved through the world differently. I already struggled in most situations. I’d kept to myself as a result. I wasn’t sure how to go about my life anymore. I reminded myself of things she’d told me. Things I’d learned. My highly observant nature often meant I’d be observing others in an effort to know what to do. I still didn’t like being social most of the time though. A practiced, and forced, smile and appearance that I’d managed to do when around people. 

Mom had grown up in this town. She’d been an English Teacher at the Alternative School. A School for kids with behavioral issues. An environment where they thrived instead of just surviving. She’d been a Basketball Coach for the last few years. She’d helped people in whatever way that looked like. I knew I’d never be able to fill her shoes. I knew I’d always be in her shadow. In some capacity. She’d made sure I was able to pave my own way. I’d taken an interest in the School Newspaper. I’d been interested since my first day in High School. I’d joined not knowing what lay ahead for me. I knew I was going to give it a shot either way. Everyone encouraged it. My mother included. I’d been a Writer for as long as I could remember. My work was known to everyone because of mom sharing it as often as she did.

I wasn’t sure what to do as time went on. I’d been going through the motions of life since her death. I was still finding my way in life. Learning to live my life without her was no easy task. My assignments were things that came easy to me. One of them being to follow the Basketball team during their season. One that everyone knew would be hard for me. The very team she’d coached had been the team I was assigned to follow after all. It was a way for myself, and them, to mourn together. It was an easy assignment for me. I knew I’d be able to do it. My other assignments were to share stories of others that’d lost a parent in the Newspaper. Stories meant to bring us together. To mourn together instead of alone. We began gathering together in the courtyard near the front office. I’d often lead the group. Something I wasn’t accustomed to doing. Something out of my comfort zone. I found myself being able to lead the group even when I thought I couldn’t. I found others looking at me differently. As an inspiration. 

I’d found my purpose in life. To help others in some way. I knew it was through my Writing. I knew I could help others by writing about my experiences. About how I’d managed to move through life after my mothers death. I’d considered becoming a Public Speaker as well. To help others in some way. I saw how far I’d come since her death. Three years ago. I was graduating in a few months. Art class was one of the last classes I was taking. Art being something I’d found solace in as well. I’d felt a calmness I’d not felt while Writing. A different kind of calm that brought peace. A final piece of the puzzle that was helping me through life.