Since my mom passed away last Christmas Eve I've been fairly capable of talking about her passing as though it didn't bother me at all. I barely cried, even alone and even at her funeral. I loved my mom dearly and still do, but for some reason I didn't feel any pain associated with it. (I am recovering from a severe depression that began after her death and while I was going through it I kept blaming other things that were going on, like the drawn-out breakup I was going through, and school.)

Now I've started to accept that my depression may have been strongly associated with my mother's death. Since then I've broken down twice in public, full-out crying because it just hurt so much. The first time I was having coffee with a friend. She was talking about her shotty relationship with her own mother and asked me what my relationship was like with my mother. I couldn't answer, when usually I can just straight-up talk about things like that with no emotional backfire. Later on my friend was just going into depth about these philosophical, and mildly depressing theories she has, not related to parents or death at all, and I just started crying. I couldn't even tell her out loud what was wrong, I had to text it to her.....

The second time, last night, I was at an old gay youth support group I went to when I was 16. The group had changed a lot, being that the kids who went when I did are all grown up. I recognized only one girl and two facilitators. The theme last ngiht was "Friends and Family Night" where the members can bring supportive friends and family, and a lot brought their parents. The discussions were very emotional and heart-warming, about their parents coming to accept their kids and all that stuff. And by the end, when we did "check out" (saying what you liked about the group and where you're going after in case something happens) I meant to straight-out say, "It's great to see parents come out to these nights, you have no idea how much it means to your kids. I never got the chance to bring my mom ---" and then I just broke down and started bawling my eyes out in front of about twenty people, most of whom I'd never met before.

By the end, as my friend and I were going home, I felt instead of shame and humiliation, a sense of calm and, well, almost pride for myself that I'd finally gotten over that numbness. It suddenly feels like my mother is alive again inside my mind. She's not just a memory but a part of me. And I think that's a hugely important thing about grieving. We cry not just because we feel the pain of loss but because it keeps the person close to us. For most of this year I remembered my mother as though I had simply seen a movie. It didn't feel like it happened to me. And I think I'm finally starting to accept that it is a part of my life.