You Grew Up Without Me, But Not Without My Love | Stories from the Path by JBE Mindful Pathways

  A mother’s grief for the child still living—but just out of reach.

---

They say I don’t know what it means to lose a child.
And in the way they mean it, maybe I don’t.
You’re still alive.
Still breathing somewhere beneath this sky.

But you’re not here.
And for me, that’s a loss I carry every day.

You were 18 months old the last time I held you without needing permission.
The last time your fingers curled around mine like they trusted I’d always be there.
And then, just like that, you were gone.

Not buried.
Not taken by accident or illness.
But taken just the same.

And ever since, I’ve lived inside a grief the world doesn’t make room for.
( Mental Health Support (Grief Counseling, Non-Death Loss) https://childmind.org/article/grieving-a-child-who-is-still-alive/) 

Because how do you mourn a child who still has a heartbeat…
but no longer has a place in your life?
What do you call a love that keeps growing even when the connection is severed?
Where do you go with all the birthdays, holidays, and ordinary days that pass without you in them?

I’ve had to investigate—just to know if you were okay.
I’ve searched for traces of you like a detective searching for light in the dark.
Just to know if you were safe.
If you were even still in the same country.

And still, I was told:
“At least she’s alive.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t bury her.”

And yes—I am grateful you’re alive.
But don’t mistake that for peace.

Because I’ve mourned you a thousand times over—
on days your name wasn’t spoken.
on nights I tried to remember the sound of your baby laugh.
on mornings I wondered if you still had the same eyes.
I’ve grieved you in grocery aisles, in dreams, in photos I had to stop keeping.

I’ve celebrated your birthdays in silence.
(Support for Noncustodial Parents / Resources https://www.fatherly.com/love-money/noncustodial-parent-guide )

Sent love across the air like prayers no one could intercept.
And told your sisters about you when they asked why your picture was always near.

I may not have tucked you into bed,
but I’ve tucked your memory into every part of me.

I may not know your favorite color,
but I remember the shape of your hands.
I remember the way you looked at me like I was your whole world—before someone decided I didn’t deserve to be in yours.

(Parental Alienation Awareness https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/co-parenting-after-divorce/202005/what-is-parental-alienation ) 

This isn’t the kind of grief people understand.
(Mother’s Grief / Living Loss Communities https://www.optionb.org/build-resilience/grieving-the-loss-of-a-living-child )

It doesn’t come with flowers or funerals or casseroles.
It comes with silence.
Judgment.
Misunderstanding.

And still—I have loved you through all of it.
Through every moment I wasn’t there.
Through every milestone I missed.
Through every whisper of “mama” that might’ve belonged to someone else.

They may never understand.
But I don’t need them to.
Because I know what I lost.
And I know what I gave.

You grew up without me.
But not without my love.

For my daughter, Elysha Nicole.

You may never know how many quiet ways I’ve loved you across the years, or how many nights I’ve whispered your name like a prayer. But you have always been carried in my spirit, wrapped in a love that distance couldn’t erase. Wherever you are, may you always feel that love surrounding you.

— Juju Divine Empress

Read more personal pieces like this in our Stories from the Path series.