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Writer's pictureNyssa Ashes

The Mind of a Bereaved Parent

Updated: Aug 10, 2022





I’m sure some have been wondering how I’m doing without asking me. So let’s shine some light on what it’s like to live in my head.


I’ve had people refer to me that maybe seeing a therapist would help. Yet how can I connect to someone who does not understand the pain of child loss, unless they themselves have lost a child. When people check on me, they say things like “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling..” Believe me, you don’t want too because there are days that I wish I could leave my mind, like when you exit a room. You make sure everything is turned off, lastly you turn off the lights and close the door. I want to do that mentally. You go to a state of mind you never imagined yourself to be at. Without judgement, I want to just give you a insight of what goes through our thoughts.


When I wake up every morning, I reflect on what I just dreamt. Whether it was a nightmare or a good dream, usually it’s about my daughter. I do my morning routine with myself still thinking “She’s really gone and my dreams are the only place I’m able to see her.” When it’s a bad dream, I try to understand why dreamt that. It bothers me more when it’s a bad dream and I wish that I wouldn’t dream some nights. Then I’ll go get dressed, step into the closet that once held her clothes next to mine. I stand in there for a moment to remember what I last remember hanging there in September. After I’m dressed, I sit in front of the mirror. Looking back at myself as I think, “I have no motivation to get ready..” Yet I continue to paint on a face that people know using my make up. I make sure that it looks presentable since I’ve lost interest in my make up since she’s been gone. When I’m just about finished, I hear “you did your eyes mama?” Echo in my head as I picture her sitting next to me like she used too, as she tried to dig her little fingers in the glitters and would quickly smear it on her face before I could stop her. Finally, I'm ready and head out the door. During the week, work keeps my mind focused on something else. It throws a big blanket on everything else until 5pm hits.


Typically when I’m the in car alone, I try to avoid songs I knew she loved because when I do try to listen to them, I can hear her singing from the backseat. Yet when I look back in the rear view mirror, her spot is empty. I fight back tears as everything floods my mind. I don’t even know what you’d call this. It’s so overwhelming though and very hard to shake off. Matter of fact, I don’t even know how to explain it to you or what right words to use. What I feel is - Cloudy. Emotional. Anxiety. Disappointment. Disbelief. Denial, sometimes. Anger, lots of anger. Insanity. Fear. Manic, almost. The mentality of a bereaved mother is so close to insanity that it scares me some days. I can’t even normally function as I use too. I don’t socialize or speak unless it’s brought upon me. When I am out in public - I scale the families and kids around me, mostly the little girls - I look around as if I’ll find Nytalia amongst the crowds or I’ll search for a little girl with similarities. It makes me sad as I watch others with their daughters, that I wish it were me. I’m not going to kidnap anyone, so please don’t think that. It’s just unfair to me. Yet I don’t talk to anyone about it because I don’t want anyone to worry. Missing my daughter is one of the worse things I’m living through because some days you almost don’t want too. I can honestly say that when and if my time ever comes, I don’t ever want extreme measures. I want to see my daughter. That’s probably bad to say right? Because you’re probably thinking, “but what about your sons?” I love them beyond words can describe. My daughter was like my right hand though. She was the one who would shop with me, who could be girly (when she felt like it), she was my mini.


Imagine right now, if you had to live a life without your child, or without one of them. You’re life feels a little less… important.


It’s actually taken me 3 days to write this. To word this correctly so I could maybe make my point about what grief can do to a parent. That we won’t ever say what we really feel, when we need help, when we’re at rock bottom. We’ll make sure we look put together just so everyone else can feel okay. We put ourselves on the back burner because it’s almost easier to get by when your blinded by work, hobbies, family and etc. Another sucky side effect is if you were learning to love yourself before, we’ll get ready to take a thousands steps back because not only do you not like yourself as a person but as a parent too. You beat yourself harder than you did before because you swear this all lead up because of who are. Some days it’s not as bad and you feel this little boost of light to your persona but then something triggers the darkness to come back.


Yes I’m on meds if you’re asking yourself that already. Don’t fret.


I wish this could easily be taken away with just one pill. For this to not hurt, destroy, and break me. I wish it so bad. I was hoping eventually it would go away and I would climb mountains with accomplishments. I wanted to go above and beyond for my daughters story and her memorial but yet all I see is my flaws to it. Realizing I shouldn’t have taken the time for myself so I could have had been 1000% prepared by August 1st. Yet I’m not. Yet my head just above water yet but every now and then I’m too tired to float.


It’s taken 3 days to complete this. Other times I’ve blogged, it’s take a few hours. Now I’m beat by days. Yet this is still not even a scratch to the surface of what goes through my mind or what I’m feeling. Scary.


So prayers & positive vibes for the rest of the month until the memorial.. even after.


As always,


Here’s her memorial flyer or you can find more information at www.mahkatowacipi.org



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