What’s the point of life if we’re all just gonna die? Why do we go to school? Why do we get jobs? Why do we date? Why do we have sex? Why do we get out of bed? Why does it all matter?

Thanksgiving was yesterday and it was hard without my mom. She hadn’t cooked the last couple years because of her health issues, but this was my first holiday without her. I couldn’t stay in the apartment. I opted for a relaxing walk at a park down the street. I had to get out. I had to feel the sun and breathe.

After my walk, I came home, cooked two eggs over hard and paired them with a homemade spinach and jalepeño salad. After I finished eating, I texted my half sister that I’d be over her place for dinner. I showered. Thoughts of Mom crept from the recesses of mind into the forefront when it dawned on me that she wouldn’t worry about me leaving after dark. There’s no one who worries if I’m out after the sun drops anymore.

I was definitely a sheltered only child. Mom kept constant tabs on me and she’d have an anxiety freak out if she couldn’t. If I was out a half hour longer than expected, she’d blow up my phone to see if I was okay. I don’t blame her. So many young women get attacked, or even sucked into sex trafficking when they’re out alone. But now, there’s no one to worry about me. I could cease to physically exist, just as my mom did, and no one would know.

I wish I sought more independence before she passed. I should’ve moved out and tried to get my own place. I wouldn’t have to learn to navigate society alone because I could’ve leaned on her while she was still alive. I think that’s what you’re supposed to do post-college. I think I failed young adulthood. When I came to live at home again after college, I felt like an old teenager, far from the self-sufficient woman I dreamed to become. I seeped back into my old life, my old room, and my old role as my mom’s baby. It’s a safe space that I never wanted to leave, yet I knew I’d have to one day.

I never knew that day would come last month. Mom battled heart failure for four years. During her sickness, I learned that although the condition is inevitably progressive, it can be managed with serenity, a low sodium diet, and fluid restrictions. I also adapted to the waves of health–sometimes Mom would be okay for months, then she’d need to be hospitalized for excessive fluid in her feet or legs. I thought she was just going through a really bad wave a couple months ago, until the doctors explained that her fluid was not only in her feet–it was filling her lungs.

I often wonder if I was a good daughter. Why did I let my COVID-19 quarantine depression push me to order fast food from Uber Eats? Why didn’t I practice more self control? Why did I ask Mom if she wanted food too? Why did she accept the food? Why wasn’t I selfish when I needed to be? Did I expedite her demise?

No. I can’t think like this…

It wasn’t my fault.

She told me she had a year left in March, but I refused to hear her.

Now I’m alone. And there’s no one to worry. 😔