Hello darlings,
If you have been walking this journey with me since I started writing here, then you must be quite familiar with my grief journey, particularly the grief surrounding the loss of my mum, which I only got to process in 2025, 19 years later. It was not an easy process. But looking back, I can honestly say it is one of the best things I have ever done for myself.
I am not a psychologist, but from my lived experience, I strongly believe that unprocessed grief can keep us captive. It can manifest in different ways in our lives, sometimes through patterns we don’t even understand. I had my own patterns. For years, I couldn’t make sense of some things about myself and my life. It wasn’t until I intentionally addressed my grief that I began to understand them. And then came freedom.
So, what is it all about two decades later? Mh! One of the toughest parts of my grief was that I never got to bury my mum. Now that I know what I know, I would encourage anyone who has the opportunity to bury their loved one, do so. For me, not having that experience made my grief journey even more difficult. Last year, when I began the healing process, I had two major fears. The first was facing the actual day my mum died and allowing myself to fully acknowledge and remember it. I eventually overcame that fear. I even got something permanent for that date as a reminder that I had faced one thing I had feared for years and overcome it. The second, and perhaps greatest fear was, visiting her grave. After completing my sessions with Sally and writing my letter to my mum, I wasn’t sure when I would actually visit her grave. I imagined perhaps doing it with my husband someday, but I never imagined it would happen so soon.
But it did.
Two weeks ago, I visited my mum’s grave for the first time. I won’t lie. About 50 metres away, I wanted to turn around and go back. But I didn’t. I walked there. A lot happened in that moment. I read her the letter I had written during my healing sessions the previous year. In that letter were denial, regrets, sorrow, wishes and promises. The denial, regrets and sorrow belonged to the past. The wishes and promises belonged to the future. And that, for me, was the most beautiful part of that day. I got to speak out loud about everything I still desire to accomplish, everything I hope to become, and everything I want to build in the future, in her absence.
During my healing process, I had also been encouraged to write a response to my letter, imagining what my mum might say back to me if she could. I did that too. At the end of that day, I burned both letters. And somehow, I knew that something had been completed 🙂
Where am I now? Honestly, last year, when I went through the healing journey, wrote the letter, faced the dates and confronted the memories, I thought I had already gotten through it. But looking back now, I realise that visiting her grave was the most powerful gift I could give myself to complete this chapter. Of course, grief never really ends. There will be triggers. There will be moments when I miss her. There will be days when memories unexpectedly return. But I believe I have overcome one of the greatest fears I carried for years.
And how does that make me feel? Powerful. There is closure, but there is also power. There is release. A release that welcomes me into a new season of my life and into the new responsibilities that life brings. I have made peace with the fact that my mum passed away 20 years ago. I can never replace her with anyone in this world. Not even my future mother-in-law. I have released the expectation that someone else should step into the role of my mother, because no one can ever be her. I have released the victim mentality. I now take full responsibility for my present and my tomorrow, because those are the things I have some control over. And, of course, with God leading the journey.
I am free. And I am walking like a warrior. Fear no longer defines me. I have authority through God. Most importantly, I will continue my mum’s legacy. The wishes she had for me since I was in her womb will continue to come to life. The best thing I can do in her absence is to become the woman she wished for me to be and then go beyond that, in every way I can. And now, I believe I am entering a season of a new thing.
Through my own journey, I have realised there is a gap in our society: there are very few to no spaces where children and adults who have lost their parents can openly process that experience, compared with the attention and communities available around widowhood and widowers particularly widows. I am praying about this. And depending on how God leads me, perhaps this is a gap I will help fill in the society in the near future. As a believer, I believe that nothing happens to me without God being able to bring purpose from it. Perhaps, this journey wasn’t only for me. Perhaps one day, my story will become a safe place for someone else.
That is my journey, darlings! My hope is that this piece encourages someone out there who is walking a journey similar to mine. And if you feel confident enough, reach out to me. I am happy to listen and, where I can, walk with you through your journey. And please remember: grief is not only about losing someone to death.
We grieve relationships.
We grieve dreams.
We grieve seasons.
We grieve versions of ourselves.
We grieve things we hoped would happen but never did.
Let us be intentional about processing our grief rather than allowing it to quietly shape our lives from the shadows.
Two decades later, I can finally say: I faced it. I processed it. I released it. And I am free.
I have been a little more vulnerable today, but it is for a good cause. Much love to you all, and light in your lives.
With Love,
Mwendwa
