My mother died at this time of year when I was twelve years old. She was killed by a drunk driver five minutes away from our house.
My father is a dear, kind and sweet man, but he has always found it hard to express himself emotionally. When my mother died, there was a big emphasis on being strong, to help everyone get through. I only spoke about my mother under duress in the years that followed, because to speak about my mother was to upset people, and as a child, I didn't want to upset anyone, I just wanted everything to get back to normal. A teacher had put together press clippings after my mother's funeral for us, and I hid it so as not to upset anyone. I never knew the details of the accident. Neither myself nor my siblings were given any counselling, which upsets me.
In the years that followed, I realise now that my father was probably profoundly depressed. We never wanted for anything, but he would come home from work often and shut the door, not coming out until the next morning. He did try and do his best, but it was an incredibly lonely time. I feel that he may have expected my elder sister to 'look after' me, which was unfair as she was still just a kid herself.
Fast forward fifteen years, and my dad has remarried and is definitely happier within himself. He will talk about my mother in anecdotes, if my stepmum isn't around. However, I have heard all my life about what a martyr my father was, how he was the greatest father going, etc (he was very much my grandmother's blue-eyed boy, and rather gratingly, my stepmother has taken up the chant as well) I feel like after years of this, my father believes the legend as well. I love my father, I really really do, but it's hard hearing him described as perfect when I felt so sad and alone when I was growing up. I don't blame him for anything, he is only human, but I wish the rest of the world would see that too.
As for me, I have very few memories of my own of my mother, but I feel completely defined by her loss. It's like I have a scar, right across my face. I have three gorgeous maternal aunties who would love to talk to me, but their memories of a sister aren't my own memories of a mother, they don't remember much about our relationship (they all had kids at the time) and I feel so sad that I will never get those memories back.
I'm sorry for how selfish all of this is, and thank you so much to anyone who has gotten through it! I just feel right now that a creeping unhappiness I have lived with all my life is breaking into full-scale depression and I fell sad, angry and powerless about everything.
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Really struggling with the loss of my mother when I was a child - help?
LucySnoweShouldRelax · 13/01/2014 19:19
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That's really sad Lucy. I agree with everlong, that you need to get this out with professional help. 
Pretty much the same situation with my adored adoptive mum, it was like once she was dead she was gone utterly from everyone's mind. Reality suddenly changed and my reality didn't seem like everyone else's, no one else had had their world ripped away, it was very lonely.
Affected me badly all my adult life. I hope you find the right sort of counselling and can gain conscious acknowledgement that your mum's death and your grief are central to your life.
We never forget our loving mums, do we. Not ever.
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