I try really, really hard not to think about the “what ifs” in my life, but here lately I can’t ignore the daunting question of “What would my life be like if my mom had survived her cancer battle?”

That’s a tough one, right? And heavy … that’s some heavy sh*t to live with.

It’s impossible to know what exactly would be different about my life, but I know for a fact it would be different if she were still here.

Honestly, this hasn’t been something I’ve struggled with too much in the past since my mom died in 2009. It’s only been in the last couple of years that I have called attention to the things in my life that would be different. Particularly, the things that I consider milestones — graduating college, moving away from home, jobs, my first apartment, my engagement and marriage to Justin … stuff like that.

My tipping point came a few days ago. It was a Sunday morning and I was sitting in my living room, enjoying the quiet and sipping on my first cup of coffee.

I started thinking about the home that my husband and I are in the process of buying — our first home — and all the things I want to do to it / all the things we need to do before we move in.

Being the planner that I am, I set to work making my to-do list — steam clean the carpets, steam mop the floors, bleach everything, scrub the bathrooms, paint, etc. — and I got really sad that my mom isn’t here to help do all those things.

Before you start scratching your head and wondering why I’m sad my mom isn’t here to help with the CLEANING and PAINTING of my new house, you have to understand that’s the kind of stuff my mom lived for.

She loved a clean home and she thoroughly enjoyed painting and doing projects around the house herself. She was an incredibly capable and intelligent woman when it came to home improvement, and I like to think that I inherited a little bit of her women-can-do-anything-and-do-it-better attitude (almost to a fault, my husband would say).

I know without a doubt that, if she were still here, she would have scrubbed every toilet, mopped every inch of floor (multiple times), and washed every wall and baseboard with straight bleach. And she would have done it without me asking for her help. That’s just the type of mom my mom was.

My Life Would Be Different If My Mom Would Have Lived

There are things that, honestly, only your mom can do for you no matter how old you get.

When my best friend and her husband bought a new home last year, we helped them move in. While lugging boxes through the house, I realized at one point my bestie’s mom was nowhere to be found. So, I went to check on her and found her in the master bedroom, making the bed so Casey and Tyler would have a comfy place to sleep that night as soon as everyone left.

It was such a small thing, but that’s the kind of stuff only a mom thinks about, and I recognize that moments like that are something I will forever be missing out on.

When you’re a motherless daughter, you notice the relationship between your friends and their moms. Not necessarily to make yourself sad — I rarely get sad seeing my friends with their mothers.

However, this time, watching all that Casey’s mom was doing for her, it made my heart ache at the absence of my own mom. I knew Justin and I would be buying a home soon, and what Casey’s mom was doing for her was exactly the kind of stuff my mom would have graciously done for us.

Do I need my mom to do these things for me? No. I am perfectly capable of doing all this myself, and I will do it myself.

It’s just that, it would be different if my mom were here.

This is one of those times where you don’t realize what you have until it’s gone. After someone you love leaves this Earth and all you have left are your memories with them, you begin to notice all the things — big and small — you took for granted. And that doesn’t happen all at once. It’s something you learn as the years go by and your time without them grows longer than the time you had with them.

{Photo credit: Alisha Rudd Photography}
You might like: As a Motherless Daughter, How I Honored My Mom on My Wedding Day.

So, why am I telling you all of this? That’s simple. I pour my heart into the “Motherless Daughter” section of this blog because it’s important to me and it’s a huge part of who I am. And today, I needed to dump what was on my heart out into these words.

From the time I began this blog in 2015, it has been an outlet for me to document my struggles as a motherless daughter. Being open and honest about how I feel at various points along this journey — and grief is a journey — I have connected with women across the world who are experiencing or have experienced the same things as me. And through my writing, I have been able to help other women and young girls in the same ways other motherless daughters have helped me. It doesn’t just take a village to raise babies, it also takes a village to raise motherless daughters.

Dammit, Hali

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