I remember my mother trying to help me through it, and while she clearly cared very much, there really wasn't anything she could say or do to change things. It was one of those situations that only I could change. It was also the first major challenge of my adult life.
As was typically the case with my mother, she didn't know what to say, but she was good at finding the words of other people that might help. She gave me a plaque with this excerpt from a wonderful poem:
You Learn
After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn...
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth...
And you learn and learn...
With every good-bye you learn.
I must have read and re-read that poem a thousand times over the next six months, and a few hundred times since then. It helped me grow up and get through that difficult time, and many difficult times since then.
I pulled this poem out again after my mother died, and it gave me great comfort. It still does.