Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

Tonight the loneliness is hitting hard. Which doesn’t make sense. Yesterday, I broke my record for longest phone call/Facetime with Bryttani — three and a half hours. Today, I think I did the same with Lauren — we were on the phone for over three hours. My two best friends whom I speak to the most. And yet, here in my apartment I sit, longing for a reason to get out. To go somewhere. I’ve got an entire city at my fingertips, everywhere to go, but no one with whom to adventure.

I’m missing community again. It’s hard working in ministry because I see the same people over and over. At work, at church, at outreach events — and it’s not that I don’t want to go out with them on the weekends (because I would do so and have done so in a heartbeat), but it’s such a small pool of people. I have a few more from the community I had built from my stay in the Upper West Side. But even that is such a small pool and they have such a rich and tight community as well as their own projects that it’s difficult to schedule things, much less be spontaneous with lunch or coffee dates.

The pandemic has certainly been effective in hindering the development of new community here. Only now, over halfway through the first year of this two-year commitment, have restaurants and coffee shops and other businesses become much more open for sit-ins and potential for meeting others in public.

I’ve never felt more inclined to try an online dating profile. I know there’s nothing wrong with using that as a way to meet people — I know many friends who have found successful marriages out of one of those initial online encounters. It’s just that the hopeful romantic traditionalist in me screams at the idea. But, the lonely side of me cries in response. I’d always thought I’d meet someone in college — like you did. You met Dad and were married at nineteen. I’m twenty-two and I haven’t even been on an actual first date. It’s only a difference of three years. But, those three years passed quickly, and I’m afraid three more will pass just as quickly, and three more after that, and three more until I’m old enough to have grandchildren and still have yet to meet someone with whom to walk through life.

All I’ve ever wanted is to be a wife and a mother. I’m so afraid God is saying, “no,” and not just “not yet.” I know, I know — don’t put words in His mouth. I just feel like I missed a step and now I don’t know how to even start that process. (Kinda ironic considering how much I’ve watched Hallmark and read those Heartstrings novels…)

I also might be afraid that I’ve screwed up one too many times for an even remotely healthy relationship. But I also have so much love to give. I’m so willing to fight for it. Has the fight already begun and I missed the starting bell? I don’t know where to start. Where to go. I go to the same places over and over. I need a change of scenery. That’s why I go walking — to get out and see other parts of the city.

Mom, I so love this city. But, it’s so hard being here. Just when I feel like I get in a rhythm of healthy habits and living life, in crashes this wave of loneliness. It’s not a disgruntled discontentment. Rather, it’s tangled in the grief of loss. It feels more like I’ve lost something than something that is simply not yet given.

I feel silly praying about it, though. Asking God to bring me a man. I usually ask Him to comfort this loneliness with His presence. Sometimes I feel comforted, and other times, the dark emptiness is almost overwhelming. Normally, I numb to myself. I look to other things to just push away these painful feelings. It obviously doesn’t do much for the long-run. But it sure does help in the short-term. (Oh God, please forgive me for so often choosing short-term relief over Your long-term plan for my life!)

I don’t like to sit with these feelings. They feel childish. Yet, there’s no relief. And I’m not seeing a light at the end of this tunnel.

As I think more about the idea of even simply meeting guys online to at the least make a new friend, it brings back memories of negative encounters online that led to a whole world of trouble of which I am still suffering the consequences (one being these memories).

I don’t know how to talk to guys. I don’t know how to simply be friends with a guy. I barely know as a sister how to talk to my brothers. I’m just learning as a daughter how to talk with Dad. So, how am I ever supposed to navigate that world of men and relationships?

Mom, I really wish you were here to talk to about this. The other day when I spoke to my counselor on the same subject, he asked what I thought you would say. It cut like a knife — this is one subject I’m really not sure what you would say and I so desperately wish I did.

So, here I am, crying over a man who I’ve haven’t even met.

Your daughter,
Hannah