Grief

The day will forever be engraved in my mind. A beautiful, sunny Saturday morning. Initially, one would not suspect that something was wrong, unless they were aware of the situation that was going on.

I spent a wonderful week with momma; got the chance to work remotely at the beach; spend time with her; laugh and watch tv; and painted her nails. I knew leaving was going to be difficult; she was sick, and I knew she was not improving. I am a realistic person, and I have learned to not get my hopes up. She was excited for me to leave because I had exciting things awaiting me when I got back home.

I pack up my stuff and check out of the hotel, and as I head over to momma's house I do not suspect anything. Once I am inside, I know; I sense something is different. Her TV isn't making sound and as crazy as that sounds, that is my first clue that something is wrong. I rush back to her room, and I instantly know. She's gone. She's no longer in pain.

Of course, I am in denial. I am leaning over here and yelling and shaking her. After a few tries, I know it is not worth it. I immediately call the hospice nurse to come out. I mean she is not dead until they say "I am sorry, she is gone," and give the official time of death.

I spent the day waiting in agony. While hospice came and officially made the call, about two hours after I found her, momma had to lay in her bed and wait for someone to come and pick her up. While she was doing a good deed and donating her body to science, they took their time getting there and I sat with her for 4 hours. Then she was really gone, and from there I don't really know what has happened.

As a kid, I lost my grandfather and my great-grandfather and I thought those were the greatest travesties. Then, in 2018, I lost my grandmother and that took a lot from me. I honestly thought that was the worst of it. Nothing prepares you for the loss of a parent.

Life since losing her has been a blur. I wake up, work, eat, and sleep. Somewhere in between all of that I shower and do other things. I have conversations with people, but it is hard for me to fully remember what has been said. For a person who has always prided herself on having an amazing memory, I am struggling a lot to remember the simplest things. It is hard to focus and keep track of things- even responding to a simple text or email from someone. I often think, "what do I even say?"

The worst part is when people ask, "Oh no, what happened?" It creates so much anxiety as the real answer is, "It's complicated." However, that is not what people want to hear, they want to hear all the details, but don't understand her children don't even have all the details. Also, when dealing with grief, it is not about "What happened" it is about "how do we help you through this?" Continuing to ask questions post-mortem is disrespectful to her and her family, and all it does is brings up additional guilt and shame for her children attempting to heal themselves. There is so much more my sister and I wish we could have done for her, but we cannot go back and fix that, all that we can do now is attempt to work forward.

Momma was a beautiful, kind, caring, loving, sassy, and most importantly- world's greatest cook. Not a day goes by where I don't think of; where I don't miss her. She was my lifeline, my best friend, my greatest supporter. The first person I would call when something good or bad would happen. That is the part I miss the most, is hearing her voice, even when she was annoying me. Memories I will always cherish.

Until we meet again Momma...