97: Losing My Mom: Grief, Love, And The Messy Truth
Losing My Mom: Grief, Love, and the Messy Truth
This episode is different. Tara shares the raw, honest truth about losing her mom unexpectedly, the complicated relationship, the invisible weight of grief, and what support actually looks like in loss.
This episode is different. It's not about lifting heavier, chasing goals, or even finding motivation. It's about grief, deep, human, life-altering grief.
A few weeks ago, Tara lost her mom unexpectedly. And in the middle of everything she's feeling, she knew she wanted to sit down and share this, because we don't talk about grief enough. We avoid it. We dance around it. We make it smaller than it is. But it's one of the few things that every single one of us will experience.
In this solo episode, Tara opens up about the moment she got the call that changed everything, the complicated and very real relationship she had with her mom, and the invisible weight of grief, what it feels like to move through the world while carrying something no one else can see.
This isn't a how-to guide or a list of grief tips. It's just honest. Raw. Real. If you're grieving, maybe you'll feel a little less alone. And if you're not, maybe this will help you show up better for someone who is.
The Call That Changes Everything
There's a moment that divides your life into before and after. For Tara, it was a phone call.
You know the kind, the one you answer with a creeping sense of dread before anyone even speaks. The one that makes your stomach drop. The one where you hear words that don't make sense at first because your brain refuses to accept them.
Unexpected loss hits different. There's no time to prepare, no gradual acceptance, no goodbye. One day, the person is here. And then they're not. And you're left standing in the rubble trying to make sense of something that will never make sense.
Tara talks about those first moments, the shock, the disbelief, the surreal feeling of going through the motions while your entire world has just shifted. The logistics that demand your attention when all you want to do is collapse. The phone calls, the arrangements, the decisions that need to be made while you're barely holding it together.
And underneath it all, the crushing reality: she's gone. And she's not coming back.
Complicated Relationships and Unfinished Conversations
Here's something we don't talk about enough: not all relationships are simple. Not every mother-daughter relationship is a Hallmark movie. And grief for a complicated relationship is its own specific kind of pain.
Tara doesn't sugarcoat it. Her relationship with her mom was complex. There was love, real, deep love, but there was also tension, distance, and unresolved pain. Years of trying to understand each other. Years of wishing things were different.
And now? There's no more time. No more chances to have those conversations. No more opportunities to heal old wounds or say the things left unsaid.
That's the thing about unexpected loss: it steals your chance to finish. The things you meant to say, the apologies you planned to make, the closure you thought you'd eventually get, it's all just gone. And you're left holding all of it with nowhere to put it down.
Grieving someone you had a complicated relationship with is messy. You can be heartbroken and angry at the same time. You can miss them desperately while also feeling relief. You can love them and resent them. All of it can be true at once.
And that's okay. Grief isn't neat. It doesn't follow rules. It's allowed to be contradictory and confusing and completely overwhelming.
The Invisible Weight of Grief
One of the hardest parts of grief is that it's invisible.
You walk through the world looking the same on the outside. You go to the grocery store, you answer emails, you show up to work. People see you and think you're fine. But inside, you're carrying this massive weight that no one else can see.
Tara describes it as feeling like you're moving underwater. Everything takes more effort. Simple tasks feel impossible. Your body is physically exhausted from processing so much emotion. Your brain is foggy. You forget things. You lose track of time.
And then there's the isolation. Even when you're surrounded by people, grief can feel incredibly lonely. Because no one else is experiencing your specific loss in your specific way. No one else had your exact relationship with your mom. No one else feels what you feel.
People mean well. They offer condolences, they say they're there for you, they tell you to reach out if you need anything. But most of the time, you don't even know what you need. You're just trying to survive each day. Trying to breathe through the pain. Trying to function when everything feels pointless.
This is the invisible labor of grief: showing up to life when life feels unbearable. Smiling when people ask how you're doing because "I'm barely holding it together" isn't an acceptable answer in most settings. Carrying this enormous thing while pretending you're fine.
What Support Actually Looks Like
So what does help? What does support actually look like when someone is grieving?
Tara shares what's been meaningful to her in these early, disorienting weeks of loss, and it's not what you might expect.
Show up without needing direction. The worst thing you can ask someone who's grieving is "Let me know if you need anything." They won't. Not because they don't appreciate it, but because they don't have the capacity to think about what they need, articulate it, and then ask for it. Instead, just do something. Drop off food. Send a text that doesn't require a response. Offer specific help: "I'm going to the store, what can I grab for you?"
Don't avoid them. People get weird about grief. They don't know what to say, so they say nothing. They avoid the grieving person because they're afraid of making it worse. But silence hurts. Avoidance hurts. Even if your words are awkward or imperfect, reaching out matters. Acknowledging the loss matters. Saying "I'm thinking of you" matters.
Let them talk about their person. One of Tara's biggest fears is that people will stop talking about her mom, like she never existed. Don't be afraid to say her name. Don't be afraid to ask about her. Share memories. Let the grieving person know that their person mattered, that they're remembered, that their life had an impact.
Don't rush the process. Grief doesn't have a timeline. There's no "getting over it." There's no point where you're suddenly fine again. Grief changes you. It becomes part of you. And that's okay. Don't expect the grieving person to be back to normal in a few weeks or months. Don't judge them for still struggling a year later. Just be there. Keep showing up.
Hold space without trying to fix. You can't fix grief. You can't make the pain go away. And honestly, trying to is exhausting for the grieving person. Sometimes the most supportive thing you can do is just sit with them in their pain. Acknowledge it. Validate it. Let them feel what they feel without trying to rush them through it or minimize it or offer silver linings.
Learning to Carry the Ache, and Keep Going
Here's the hard truth about grief: you don't move on. You don't get closure. You don't "heal" in the way people think you will.
You just learn to carry it.
The ache doesn't go away. The missing doesn't stop. But slowly, gradually, you learn how to live with it. You learn how to hold the grief alongside everything else. You learn how to feel joy again without guilt. You learn how to keep going even when it hurts.
Tara doesn't have answers. She's not on the other side of this. She's right in the middle of it, trying to figure out how to keep moving forward while carrying this enormous loss.
But she's learning that grief and love are two sides of the same coin. You grieve because you loved. The depth of your grief reflects the depth of your love. And that love doesn't end just because the person is gone.
So she's giving herself permission to feel it all. The sadness, the anger, the regret, the love, the gratitude. All of it. Because that's what her mom deserves. That's what this relationship, complicated as it was, deserves.
If You're Grieving
If you're grieving right now, Tara wants you to know: you're not alone.
Your grief is valid, no matter how you're experiencing it. No matter how complicated your relationship was. No matter if you're crying every day or you haven't cried at all. No matter if you're angry or numb or both.
There's no right way to grieve. There's no timeline. There's no finish line where you're suddenly okay again.
Just take it one day at a time. One hour at a time if you need to. Be gentle with yourself. Let people help you. And know that it's okay to not be okay.
If You're Supporting Someone Who's Grieving
Show up. Say their person's name. Bring food without being asked. Send texts that don't need responses. Sit with them in their pain without trying to fix it. Keep showing up weeks and months later when everyone else has moved on.
Your presence matters more than you know.
This episode is raw and emotional and deeply personal. If you're going through loss right now, please know: you're not alone. And if you're not, please listen with an open heart, because someday, you might be the person who needs to hear these words.
Take care of your heart. Tara's taking care of hers, too.
For more from Tara, follow @taralaferrara on Instagram, and check out the Broads podcast for more honest conversations about the messy, beautiful, complicated parts of being human.
