On January 2, 2021 the woman who gave me life lost hers. Our mother took her last breath alone, thanks to COVID-19, in the hospital sometime after one o'clock that afternoon. I'd never seen a baby picture of my mother until she transitioned. She was the cutest little baby I've ever seen.
This is definitely a different kind of pain, on different levels. Losing a parent is an extremely painful, indescribable feeling. It's one that you can never prepare for even though we know we will all transition one day. Living in another state and not being able to see, speak to or love on her as she declined. These levels of pain truly have me feeling empty. Grief takes you through may stages of emotion - happy, sad, resentful, angry, etc. and you have to work through them but at your pace. Grieve in your own time and on your own terms.
Having lived in Florida the past 19 years, being alone has been the way of life for me. Before my grandchildren were born, it was just my son, my daughter and I and if you've read my previous blogs you know these years have not been kind. Every trial, every pain, every moment I dealt with alone. There was no family to run to or call that would be here for me, it was and still is just me hence the reason I deal with most things in solitary. At the funeral home, while viewing our mothers body, I was in a room full of people I loved but felt totally invisible at that moment as I sat staring at our mothers body and drifting off in my mind. I wanted to cry and hug anyone in that room that would allow me too but I was unable because it didn't feel natural. Being used to dealing with so much hurt and pain alone has been my life since moving here so that's where I stayed. I overstood at that very moment how you can be in a crowded room but still feel like you're the only one there. I get it now.
Last time I saw our mother before her transition was for her 70th B-earthday party, 10/31/2020. She turned 70 on 11/03 but the weekend was an easier way to get everyone together. She was speaking and moving okay at that time, a little slow but okay nonetheless. I did not imagine she'd decline so quickly. One of the things that has hurt the most is I didn't get to speak with her much after that and none in December. I would call her cell and it would go to voice mail most days. Sometimes I would call my sister to ask if mom had her cell phone with her and it would be right next to her on the bed. The last call to my sister to check on mom she was in a rehabilitation facility. My sister was with my mom and asked her about her calls to which our mom replied "I don't feel like talking. You can tell her what I'm saying." We both laughed and got off of the phone. I knew our mother was in the beginning stages of Dementia. As a result of this and her declining health my last verbal correspondence with her was in November. It hurts.
These are the thoughts that played over and over in my mind as I set at the funeral home looking at her body in that coffin, during the funeral proceedings and as I go about my daily activities since her transition. Being absent from those last moments of her life haunt me but knowing she was in good hands brings some peace. Between my sisters Ebony and Cheri she was well cared for. I commend my sister Ebony for all she did for our mother. All she has gone through taking care of our mother down to the very end. From doctors appointments to dialysis, to her home going services and burial ... she did that. It took a lot of strength to do all she's done and I am grateful that mom had her to be there and take care of her the way she did. The job is done Ebony. May the Most High continue to bless you for a job well done.
My mothers passing showed me quite a few things but the most important thing is to never live unhappily. I have let a lot of things get to me ... no more! I am thankful for all of the conversations she and I had. For the many things that she told me and the fact that she is no longer unhappy. She can now rest and as she rests, I too will rest.
