Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. For every word spoken, something is left unsaid. For everything lost, something is gained.
But in life, everything has its polarity. When I lost my mom, the idea of gain felt not just impossible, but cruel. What could I possibly gain from her absence? How could anything good come from a life no longer lived?
Yet, this past year, I’ve seen my mother in ways I never did before. She’s in every part of my life, nudging her way in: whispering her thoughts, stirring old memories, making her presence known. Sometimes, I catch a whiff of her perfume. Sometimes, I feel her energy settle into a room. And sometimes, as crazy as it sounds, when I’m stuck between choices, I see her face, tilting me toward one. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s what she stood for: motherhood, guidance, clarity. Either way, she’s there.
I’ve always second-guessed myself. My boyfriend calls me the “queen of overthinking.” Every decision is dissected, every possibility analyzed. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. with thoughts looping, tangling, unraveling, only to start again.
Trust has been my lesson these past few months. Trusting the unknown. Trusting myself. And when she appears, when I feel her presence, it’s like a quiet confirmation. A reminder that I’m exactly where I need to be. Because if I weren’t, she wouldn’t be here.
So how does she work for me? What does she do behind the scenes? A familiar scent, a passing thought — these are reminders, but is there more?
I imagine her on the sidelines. I’m not a sports person, but I see her in the audience of my life, nodding when I make the right choices, laughing at my jokes, crying when I cry. She works through the unexpected blessings. Like when I applied to a modeling agency despite having Erb’s Palsy, remembering her words: “Learn to love your arm, because I won’t always be here to remind you.” She works when I’m in a dark mood, and a memory of her lifts me. She works by letting love move through me, not against me.
She’s here, every day. And for those who don’t believe our loved ones exist beyond death, let me tell you this: what she represented will always outlast her. She was guidance, creativity, love, and clarity. Clarity that things are unfolding as they should. Clarity that we are always supported. Clarity that love never really leaves. Not in this world, and not in the next.
