‘I Didn’t Have My Anchor Anymore’: Navigating Parental Loss in your Twenties and the Power of the Present Moment in Processing Grief
By Elysha Horton
‘It is strange, Elysha. I feel completely rudderless,’ my friend said. I nodded, knowing exactly what they meant. ‘It's not like we weren't expecting it; she was in her nineties, after all!’ I quickly pushed the uncontrollable response of mild resentment that arises whenever someone mentions their mother passing after having so many more years of life than mine did and returned to my body and my true thoughts. ‘It doesn't matter how old she was or you are; you've still lost your mother.’
The word ‘rudderless’ stuck with me for the rest of the day. It was the same word the Reiki practitioner I had visited a few weeks prior used during our session when discussing my unaligned sacral chakra. It had stuck with me then, and the use of it in the context of losing a mother resonated more than I could have imagined.
When I first found myself grappling with the sudden loss of my mother, I remember telling some of the people I was close to at the time that I felt like I didn't have an anchor in my life anymore. It was like I had become my own emergency contact. Despite often feeling like I thrive when I am in control, I didn't know how to be in control of everything. This sudden feeling of having to freefall into the rest of my adult life caught me off guard. I had to make every decision now that I didn't have someone who felt like more of an adult that I could run them past.
Losing my mother in the period of life often referred to as ‘emerging adulthood’ left me feeling like I had to grow up suddenly. I wasn't what I would class as a young adult by any means. I was 27, a few months away from my 28th birthday in fact, but this rudderless feeling that had been sprung upon me left me thinking that I needed to release myself from ‘emerging adulthood’ and become an actual, fully emerged adult.
Quite often, prominent signifiers of adulthood are getting married and having children. This, of course, is subjective, and those who do not wish to marry or have children will have other significant events in their lives that feel like their entry point into adulthood. However, as someone who always felt they would like marriage and children to come along at some point, losing my mother impacted my thought process around those events massively.
Initially, I experienced multiple waves of grief. There was the grief of losing my mother, the grief of whoever is to become my life partner not getting to meet her, and the grief of any future children I may have not getting to spend time with their maternal grandmother. These additional waves of grief were heartbreaking. Although it is not something we often think about, we can acknowledge that our parents will pass away one day. Still, when acknowledging this fact, we often don't consider that they won't be there for the significant events of our adult life.
A friend of mine who is a videographer would share clips of the videos from the weddings he worked on with me on social media. As soon as the happy couple’s parents or grandparents appeared on the screen, I would burst into tears. The deluge of tears flowing from my eyes would dry up almost as quickly as it came, but it would happen nearly every time.
The same could be said for any baby-related news that came onto my radar. We are all exposed to pregnancy or birth announcements on social media. As soon as I saw them, I would be filled with this overwhelming sadness that left me ruminating on what these life events meant to me now.
It sounds silly. My mother had never pushed me to get married, and she wasn't one to go on about how much she wanted grandchildren when I introduced her to a partner. Still, the feeling of inadequacy that I had not been able to share either of these events with her made me a little resentful. I started to question whether I even wanted them anymore, and if I did, it felt like they would be tainted and upsetting experiences rather than joyful and full of love.
This mindset plagued me for longer than I would have liked until I finally found a way to bring myself back to the present moment. Without preaching, living in the present moment is often the best way to work through most of the painful things that happen in our lives, and this couldn’t be more valid for grief. The ability to sit with your feelings, no matter how torturous it feels, is the most viable way to ensure you can work through them effectively.
Grief isn’t a linear experience. You can go from feeling your ‘normal’ self one minute to sobbing over a TV advert for menstrual products the next (speaking from personal experience on that…). You can go weeks where you feel fine and can talk about your lost loved one without a tear leaving your eyes to a single moment where the mention of their name sends you into a downward spiral, and this is why the present moment is such a special place to stay when grieving.
When my mother passed away, I was far from marriage and children. Here I am, just over two years later, in near enough the same position in that regard. Still, my goals have changed, my career focus has adjusted. I now have a wonderful cat – who I sometimes feel ticks the child box. All that time I spent worrying about something that wasn't even on my radar before she passed caused me so much distress when I already had enough to be processing.
Losing a parent in old age is devastating. Losing a parent young is earth-shattering. But losing a parent and then convincing yourself you have lost the right to find joy in all the life experiences you were once looking forward to is just downright foolish. You must allow yourself to grieve your lost loved one and then allow yourself to be grateful and excited for all the life you still have left to live.
Elysha Horton is a UK-based writer who explores human experiences of love, grief and self-discovery. Currently pursuing an MSc in Applied Positive Psychology, she’s fascinated by harnessing strength for a fulfilling life. Beyond writing, she enjoys going to gigs, learning French and hanging out with her cat, Oliver.