The Women Who Aren’t Here: Grief in the Middle of Becoming

September holds birthdays for two of the most important women in my life —
my mom and my paternal grandmother.

Both are gone now.
My grandmother passed in February of 1997.
My mama, in February of 2022.

And every year, when the leaves begin to turn, I feel it.
A soft ache. A quiet missing.
A wish to hear their voices just once more.

I’m Walking Through a Season They Never Got to Witness

I’m 50 now.
Navigating menopause, rediscovering who I am, peeling back old layers…
and I can’t ask either of them how they did it.

I can’t call my mom and ask,
“Did you feel like you were unraveling before you rebuilt?”
I can’t sit next to my grandma and say,
“Did it ever stop feeling like too much?”

This part of life is beautiful, yes.
But also?
It’s lonely in a very specific kind of way.

Grief Isn’t Just Missing Someone, It’s Needing Them

I thought grief would fade.
I thought time would round out the edges.

But here in midlife, it shows up differently.

It shows up when I find a gray hair and wish I could hear what my mama thought about hers.

It shows up in the quiet kitchen, in the moments when I realize I’ve become the matriarch now.

I am the one who holds the stories.
I am the one who carries the recipes, the memories, the strength.
And some days… I just want to be the daughter again.

No One Prepared Me for This

No one tells you that you might go through the biggest changes of your life;
your body shifting, your roles changing, your identity cracking open…without the women who shaped you.

Without the ones you would’ve asked,
“Is this normal?”
“Does this pass?”
“Will I be okay?”

But I Am Not Alone

Even though they aren’t here,
I carry them with me.

My grandmother’s steadiness.
My mama’s laugh.
Their grit. Their softness. Their faith in me.

I wear them like armor now.
I hear them in my instincts.

I feel them in my tears.

If You’re Missing Her Too…

This post is for you.

For the woman grieving and becoming at the same time.
For the one trying to be whole while missing the ones who made her.

You’re doing it.

You’re honoring them every day you choose truth.
Every day you soften.
Every day you keep going.

With love,
Brandy