Eight Years Without My Mom: What Losing Her Taught Me About Compassion

Eight years ago, I lost my mom to suicide. She lived with bipolar disorder, and growing up around that meant life could sometimes be complicated. There were highs and lows, difficult moments, and situations that were hard for me to understand when I was younger.

When I was 17, I was kicked out of the house. That could have easily become the end of our relationship, but it wasn’t. Even after everything that had happened, I still called my mom every week. I think part of me understood that she didn’t simply choose to have those ups and downs. She was still my mom, and I knew there was a pers

on behind the difficult moments who was dealing with struggles I couldn’t always see or fully understand.

That doesn’t mean the difficult experiences didn’t hurt. They did. Compassion doesn’t mean pretending painful things never happened or ignoring the impact someone’s actions can have on you. What I have learned, though, is that you can acknowledge the hurt while still having compassion for what another person may have been going through. Both things can be true at the same time.

Looking back now, I’m thankful I kept calling her. I loved her, and even though I couldn’t understand everything she was experiencing, I wanted her to know I was still there. One of the biggest lessons I have taken from losing her is that you don’t have to completely understand someone’s struggle in order to show them compassion.

It is easy to look at someone during a difficult moment and judge what we see. We might see the argument, the mood change, the withdrawal, or a decision that makes no sense to us. What we don’t always see is everything happening inside that person. My experience with my mom taught me not to define someone by their hardest moments.

There was much more to my mom than bipolar disorder. There was much more to her than the difficult days, and there was much more to our relationship than what happened when I was 17. Mental health can be complicated, and every person’s experience is different. Sometimes the best thing we can do isn’t to have the perfect answer or try to fix everything. Sometimes it is simply to listen, call, check in, and remember the person behind the struggle.

Eight years later, I still wish I could pick up the phone and call my mom. There are things I would tell her, things I would ask her, and moments in my life I wish she could have seen. Losing someone doesn’t erase the difficult parts of the relationship, but it can change the way you look back at them. I don’t pretend everything was perfect. It wasn’t. But with time, I have gained more understanding and compassion than I had when I was 17.

I’m sharing this because there may be someone in your own life who is difficult to understand right now. Maybe their behaviour frustrates you, their emotions seem unpredictable, or you simply don’t know what to say. Compassion doesn’t mean accepting harmful behaviour or giving up your own boundaries. It simply means remembering that there is still a human being on the other side of the situation, and there may be more happening beneath the surface than you realize.

I couldn’t fix what my mom was going through, but I could call her. And I did, every week.

Eight years later, I’m grateful that I did.

If losing my mom taught me anything, it is to be a little slower to judge, a little quicker to listen, and a little more compassionate toward people whose struggles we may never fully understand. You never really know what someone else is carrying.