*Disclaimer, this post has some strong language. If you are easily offended, please stop reading now. These are my rawest thoughts and I make no apologies for them.*
My mom passed away. 4:00 AM on Friday, April 28th.
My entire world has shattered. This is nothing like I had ever felt before. I thought that I had experienced the deepest loss possible when my grandmother passed. But this, this has shaken me to my core. Everything comfortable, everything I thought was true, right, the very foundation from which my entire life has been built…gone.
So, I have spent the past 162 days asking myself “what in the entire f*ck? How am I supposed to continue? F*ck you mean, it will get easier?”
Mama and I shared a bond that was both intense and indifferent. We both are Cancers and we love hard, we are nurturing and caring, but please stay on our good side. God help you if you don’t.
I am my mother’s eldest child. The one that snapped her into adulthood. Her first miracle, you see, my mother was told she wouldn’t be able to have children, yet here I was the “little red rat” (thanks, Granddaddy). In some ways, mama and I grew up together. She was young and in the military, so my Grandmother had a huge hand in helping raise me.
As I grew older and eventually had my son, our relationship began to evolve from mother/daughter to friends. We would hang out, we acted up, she fussed as I rolled my eyes, I tried to be the boss and she brushed me off. Life was good.
Then she started feeling bad, the random symptoms started. Then the diagnosis. F*cking cancer. Again.
Mama took it like a “G”. She was like “Oh, I beat it once, I’m good. They caught it early.” And to be honest, I was nervous but she was so positive, and from all accounts, she was good, so I was like “cool, we got this. It’s going to be a journey, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”
That was December 27, 2017. 3 days after my fiance proposed. 3 days after she saw some of her prayers come to fruition. She longed for Langston to have the stability of both of his parents, for him to have the proper family that he deserved. She and Brian had planned the engagement for months, lots of texts and phone calls, right down to her buying me a new dress and shoes for the party.
She fought up until her last breath. She went through her treatments, the appointments, the hospital stays, all with a smile on her face. She made sure the nursing staff was comfortable, she wrote kudos notes, gave out Christian books, told jokes, all while going through her own battle. She took care of my sister and I from the hospital bed, giving words of encouragement, threatening to ‘come up to that job’ because ‘they don’t mess with her baby’ (my sister). She let everyone know that would listen that we were her girls and she was proud of us.
So when it was time for her to go, my sister and I were okay. She’d shown us faith and strength beyond anything we had ever seen and we wanted her to rest. She had given us all that she could and now it was time for us take all the love and knowledge she instilled in us and live our best lives.
As much as we are comforted knowing that she’s with Grandma and her twin sister we are wrecked with the aftermath of her love leaving us. That is the thing about losing someone so close to you to illness, you are so happy that they aren’t sick and suffering anymore, but you selfishly wish they were still here.
So, 168 days later, I am still processing, still putting myself back together. There are days that I feel renewed and look at things with fresh eyes, thinking about all the ways I can honor my mother’s life while I am still here. Then there are days when the grief is so overwhelming that it is a struggle to go about a “normal” day.
Thankfully, the good days are starting to outweigh the bad, and I can finally, honestly, say that I believe the best is yet to come. And I will spend the rest of my time here on earth, honoring my mother through LIVING.
Authentically, Richly, Fully, Lovingly, Unapologetically.