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Week 36

Forever In My Heart Friday. FIMHF. Week 36. There’s a big difference between support and pity. I realize now that if others saw how much pain my heart carries, it would frighten them. I get up every morning with a mask that is so well constructed by nothing more than the grace of God, and it covers it all so well. I often have others say to me, “You’re the strongest person I know”, “I don’t know how you do it”, or, “There is a purpose for God taking your child.” It’s truly hard to know how to respond to these remarks at times. Because it’s all too easy to say that until that child becomes YOUR child. This journey of grief that I now walk through every day is now going to be one that lasts forever. No matter how much I try to escape the thoughts and memories of the day Myesha left this earth, I can’t. Because even when you think it can’t get any worse, believe me it can.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015. It’s the day of her viewing. Not only am I overcome with trying to meticulously plan a funeral, as if I was planning her wedding, but I get the first of two phone calls that forever changed me. The funeral home calls 5 hours prior to inform me that due to the amount of fluid on her body from being in renal failure, that the outfit that I spend hours trying to decide, was not going to work. You see, I had chosen her gorgeous white formal dress that she loved so much and wore to one of her best friend’s birthday celebrations. Oh how she loved that dress! I can’t even begin to tell you how hard it was to decide what to bury her in. But now they needed something that was going to cover her arms all the way to her wrists and cover her up to her neckline. I was so confused. But I had no time to question, nor did I even have time to overthink it. My cousins and I went shopping. Shopping for a funeral outfit. It was so surreal. It had to be perfect. It had to be what she would like. Her colors. Her style. Time was not on our side and all I can remember doing walking through that store, scouring through racks of clothes, was talking to her. Asking her to guide me to the outfit that she wanted to be seen in on “her day”. “Her day”, lol. It sounds so odd to say that now because it wasn’t the day as a parent I so looked forward to. But I found one. Coincidently, I knew I had found the right one because my cousins Dawn and Amanda found me a few short minutes later and had the exact same one in their hands as well. We all looked at each other and smiled. Yep, Myesha was definite making sure that we picked out the right one. We rush to the check out to pay and the next phone call comes in….

So apparently the technician that normally does the deceased’s make up was on vacation and they didn’t have a staff member available or trained to apply make up to someone of her decent, as she was bi-racial. “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS??” At this point there is no time. The clock is ticking and my baby needed her mother. I stopped off at the house and grabbed all of my MAC make-up, throw it in a bag and head off to the mortuary.

As I enter the building I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. I approach the front desk and simply tell the girl working up front that I am here to bring clothes for Myesha Reed and that I have also brought the make-up necessary to prepare her for her viewing. A viewing that was now just 3 hours away. With no questions of whom I was the girl quickly took us back to where Myesha was. We passed through a room with a body on display for viewing. I just kept looking forward trying not to stare. But no sooner could I think about that, and then the smell hit me. You could smell it. Death. Formaldehyde.

The next set of door opened and I find my daughter lying on the cold steel table covered in a white sheet up to her neck. Her Aunt Jean is already there and is working on her hair as we had arranged. I am fighting back the tears. I am trying to “stay strong”. I look over at Dawn and tears are streaming down her face. Amanda has now turned her head towards the opposite side of the room and is fighting back the tears that have now surfaced down her cheeks as well. I tell them both “Stop it!! No crying!!! Damn it I need you right now! But I need you to not cry right now because you have to be strong for me. So stop crying!!”

I look down at my child. My first born. I could still see the tape marks across her face from where the hospital had to tape her breathing tube in place. I starred at her for what seemed like an eternity. I felt like I had left my body for a few short moments and was trying to find my way back in. I slowly move the sheet down away from her body only to discover that her entire body is covered in a thick heavy plastic body suit, similar to the pajamas I would put on my children in the winter. The only part exposed is her hands. The suit is gray taped around her wrist. The morticians have now come into the room and I ask them why she is in the “body bag”. They inform me that when a person dies from MRSA, that the infection will look for a heat source to survive or a way to escape the body. With that being said the underneath side of her body, including her arms and legs was now covered in boils and blisters. I lift her left arm to see for myself. This can’t be real. This can’t really be happening to me, to her! Sure enough though, the plastic covering clings to the once beautiful brown skin that adorned her body, to what is now nothing more than rotted flesh. I place her arm back down and pull the sheet back up to her neck.

That’s the day I put my “mask” on. I could not stand there and cry. I could not let my grief consume me. She needed me. For the last time, my baby needed her mother and damn it, it was time to make her look beautiful! I adorned the gloves the mortician gave us because we were not allowed to “work on” her with our bare hands. Surround by 4 other dead bodies being embalmed or waiting for cremation, I applied my daughter’s make-up one last time.

I will never forget the fluid that kept seeping from her nostrils while I was busy applying her eye shadow. The way I had to keep wiping it up as if she had a cold so not to leave marks on her upper lip from the foundation that I had already applied. I will never forget the smell of formaldehyde filling my lungs as I tried to take deep breaths to maintain my composure. Her skin was so cold. The gloves did nothing to hide that chill. I will never forget the way her skin felt. As if I was applying make-up to a doll, stiff and hard. Then it was on to her hair. Aunt Jean did such as amazing job flat ironing and curling her hair as I took the pieces and pinned them just where Myesha would want them. Just like she would wear her hair. Dawn never left my side and was gloved up and helping me along the way, even taking all the bobby pins out of her own hair to use for Myesha’s. Amanda making light talk with everyone to help alleviate the tension. When it was all said and done, through the help of 3 AMAZING women, my daughter was now ready for her final appearance here on earth, her “grand finale”.

The truth is child loss changes us permanently and time cannot change us back to who we were before the loss of our child. In my case, you know my loss, but you only know parts of my story. The grief I have over the death of my child will never be tamed. My journey is one that is permanent and life- altering. I wouldn’t change it for the world and I would do it all over again. Why? Because Myesha is worth it!! Mommy loves you Myesha!! FIM <3 F

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FIMHF Blogs

Week 35

Forever In My Heart Friday FIMHF Week 35. So as were driving to Exploration Place Wednesday Corban inquires “Is it true that people can go to sleep, never wake up, and die?” I respond, “Not normally. Only if they are really sick and their bodies shut down.” I should have seen where this was going. He then asks, “So is that what happened to Myesha?” I catch my breath for a moment, as I often have to do when these question arise. “Yes kind of. Myesha had that surgery on her ankle and it got infected. It made her really sick and even though the doctor’s tried to fix it, it was too late and the infection moved all through her body. She was not strong enough to continue to fight the infection.” He responded quickly, yet perplexed, “So why didn’t someone tell Myesha that if she went to sleep that she wasn’t going to wake up and that she would die?” I feel my heart sinking lower and lower into my chest. “Because Corban, Myesha didn’t know that she was not going to wake up. She was very tired and her body just couldn’t handle it anymore. God knew she was in a lot of pain and he doesn’t like to see us in pain, so he felt like it was time to take her to Heaven where she wouldn’t be in pain anymore.” He asked no more questions and starred quietly out the window towards the sky.
July 16, 2015, about 1 hour prior to surgery. I’m standing next to Myesha who is now lying in her bed in the ICU, providing comforting words prior to surgery, when my cell phone rings. It’s Corban. “Hey Mommy! How is Myesha?” “She’s doing good son. She’s getting ready to go to surgery soon. Do you want to talk to her?” I ask. “Yes!” he quickly answers. I put him on speaker phone and hold the phone next to Myesha, “Hey bubby!” “Hi Myesha. How are you doing?” you can hear the excitement in his voice. “I’m doing good. What are you doing?” she asks. Corban proceeds to chitter chattered on and on, “Well I lost a tooth this morning!! I pulled it all out by myself! I didn’t even have to have Melanie do it for me! But I got blood all over the bathroom.” Myesha smiles, “Well that’s good! That means the Tooth Fairy is going to come see you tonight!” she says. Corban responds, “I know!” Then I see her look at me and look back at the phone. “Hey bubby, I’m really sorry, but I’m probably not going to make it to your birthday party Saturday. The doctor’s said I will probably have to stay in the hospital for a couple of days until I get better. But I promise that I will make it up to you, okay?” The silence on the phone was brief, “Okay….well we can always just wait until you get out and then just have my birthday party then, okay!” he proposed. “Okay.” she says. “Well I have to get off the phone now but I you have fun swimming today with Trin and Emma and Chloe, okay! I love you!” He replies, “Okay, I will. I love you too!” That was the last time Corban ever spoke to his sister Myesha.
My son not only lost his sister the day before his originally scheduled birthday party that we had to cancel, but 3 days prior to his 7th birthday. A birthday he will never forget. A birthday where the inflatable water slide that I put up and prepared earlier that week for his party would end up staying there in the backyard for weeks, until I finally took it down and just put it in the trash. A slide that I spent hundreds of dollars on that my children shared so many memories on, so much laughter, every summer. A waterslide that had now left a huge bare spot in the backyard where the grass died and has yet to regrow back to this day.
I will never forget leaving Myesha in that hospital after she died. Leaving her in that hospital bed lifeless. Her body now getting cold. Her fingers and hands that I held so tightly for hours, cold. Her cheeks that I caressed with my fingers, cold. I attempted multiple times to leave after several hours had passed. I would say my goodbyes, kiss her, stroke her hair, lay across her body, hold her, love her, sing to her, talk to her. But I just couldn’t leave my baby there. I would no sooner walk out in the hallway, then to turn around and go right back in. Only to repeat the whole process all over again.
The final walk down the hospital corridor to the exit seemed longer than ever. All I had to take with me was 2 hospital bags left of her belongings. Chloe’s fingers locked in mine as we walked side by side slowly and quietly. The nurses and staff around us hung their heads down. It was as if you could feel the darkness of death encompassing everyone. I had to stop several times during that walk of “it’s over, she’s gone”, because I just wanted to turn around and go back. Chloe didn’t want to leave either. We pressed on through the manual revolving doors. It was dark outside now. By the time we got to the parking lot, Chloe collapsed on the pavement. Grief and sadness had overcome her and all I could do was stand there and look at her. Death and shock had officially struck us both. I eventually pulled her off the ground and we made our way to the van. As I sat in the backseat I stared out the window. I looked down at the two green bags next to me. “She’s gone. She’s really gone.” The tears welled up in my eyes and made the street lights seem like blurs of dingy yellow lights in the night sky. Then it hit me. How am I going to go home and tell Corban that his sister was dead? That she wasn’t coming home. That she would not only be absent from his birthday party, but that she would never celebrate another birthday with us again. Ever!
By the time I got home I was physically tired. I was emotional and mentally exhausted. Corban was anxiously waiting for us downstairs. He came bounding up the stairs when he heard us walk in the door. “Where’s Myesha. Is she still at the hospital? When is she coming home?” He blurted out. I just looked at him. My face felt numb at this point from crying. The look on my face I’m sure was nothing short of expressionless. “She’s still at the hospital Corban. No she’s not coming home tonight. But Mommy is really tired so we will talk more tomorrow, okay.” I suggested. “Okay.” He spat and ran back downstairs to his game. I couldn’t do it. Not tonight anyways. I walked up to my room and collapsed on my bed. As much as I tried to hold it in, my emotions came out like an uproar from my throat in the form of a silent scream in my pillow. The salty beads of tears started falling down one after another, with no signs of stopping. Releasing all of my sadness and sorrow. How was I going to do this??
The next morning when Corban finally woke up I called him into my room. I pulled him in bed with me and just held him and snuggled with him as we do every morning. My mind was racing. My thoughts scattered all over the place like seeds in the wind. Where do I even start? What will he understand? “Corban, I need to talk to you about Myesha.” He sat up and looked over at me. I sat up and held his hands in mine. “Remember how I told you Myesha got really sick because of her ankle surgery. Well it made her so sick that her body just couldn’t fight anymore and she got very tired. God knew how tired she was and he didn’t want her to be in anymore pain so he sent his Angel’s to take her to Heaven.” The look on his face was one of bewilderment. “So she’s not coming home? She’s not coming back?” he stuttered. “No honey, she’s not.” I sighed. “So can I go to the hospital and see her? Is she still there? Where is her body?” he pleaded. “Her body is still here on Earth but her soul is now in Heaven. So no honey, you can’t go see her again. I’m sorry baby.” I sobbed. His face. The look on his face. So confused. So lost. “So she’s not coming to my birthday party??” he asked quietly. “No honey, I’m sorry she’s not.” I said. “But I’m going to miss her.” he sniffled and hung his head down. “I’m going to miss her too baby…”
Myesha was never going to walk through the door again. Corban’s oldest sister was gone. Like his sister, Chloe, he didn’t even get to say goodbye. Siblings are the forgotten griever, but the pain is very real and intense. This type of guilt is often referred to as sibling survivor guilt and can take many forms. Guilt that they have a chance to live their lives, but their sibling does not. Not being there when she died or not appreciating the time they had together while they had it. All aspects of their lives are affected. Their health, behavior, schoolwork, self-esteem, and development. They will now respond to the death of their sister with a wide range of feelings, from anger, to grief, to frustration. Left feel helpless or even hopeless.
Intensified guilt is another likely emotion in children concerning a sibling’s death. Children in particular are likely to feel guilty because they don’t understand or comprehend the reasons for death. They may feel adrift and lonely. They may give up, not enjoy life or, in extreme cases, feel they want to join the sibling and think about their own death. As in Corban’s case. He often remarks that he too “Wishes he was dead” or says that he just wants to “go to The Heaven’s”. He may say this in times that he is feeling emotional, or just missing Myesha. Or in times of frustration when Chloe would get onto him he would yell back at her, ”I wish Myesha was here right now because she wouldn’t let you yell at me like this!” Not only is he now feeling lost in his own emotions and grief, but he has struck a painful chord with Chloe. These are the times that as a parent, I find difficult to manage. To find the right words to say to make him understand that even though I know he’s hurting, it’s not fair to take that hurt out on others with his words.
Sibling grief is easily misunderstood. They have now lost a part of their past and their future as it should have been with Myesha and now there’s a hole there. An emptiness that will never again be filled. It was a relationship like no other and the death of a sibling during childhood leaves the surviving siblings lives irrevocably changed. The change is immediate, but the effects remain throughout a lifetime. Death has now become more of a reality and an everyday part of life. The surviving siblings now have been forced to realize that if it could strike once, it could strike again and begin to worry about losing other siblings or family members. They become more attached to their immediate family, start telling them they love them more often, and appreciate them more. As in Corban’s case, one night while we were lying in bed he told me he wanted “a new mommy”. My feelings were instantly hurt and I asked him, “Do you now think I’m a good enough Mommy?” His reply, “You’re a great Mommy. But if you die too I will need another Mommy to take care of me.”
Siblings are an intricate part of each other’s lives. There is no other relationship like the sibling connection. From shared secrets, competing with each other, arguing, fighting, teasing each other, but also defending each other. Siblings feel the joy of their successes and the pain of their struggles and loss. All of those moments of giggling that was once shared together are nothing but treasured memories. You will never know how much your sibling means to you until they’re gone. Mommy loves you Myesha Reed! FIM <3 F

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Week 34

Forever In My Heart Friday. FIMHF. Week 34.. Losing a child is definitely the “worst loss”, but losing a sibling has a special grief all its own. I grew up as an only child. It was a totally different environment then what I was prepared to experience when I had children of my own. But I knew from the moment I had Myesha, that I did not want her to be an only child. I was often envious of my friends and cousins who had a sibling because they were never really alone. I’ll never forget the day Chloe was born. Myesha was so excited at the thought of having a baby sister. She made a name tag to wear that said “Dr. Reed”. (Yes, I still have it) She stood by my side thought the labor process at the young age of 5 and kept telling me to “breath” as each contraction came. She was only made to leave the room for a short time as her sister arrived and from that moment on both of their lives were forever changed. Sisters for Life.

A Sibling relationship is the one relationship that can truly last an entire lifetime. They help make us who we are. Their death affects us in ways you could never imagine. Our siblings are our confidants, playmates, supporters, sources of frustration; sources from which we learn to navigate confrontation, anger, and even repair relationships. You cannot possibly realize how much influence your sibling has on your day-to-day life or how many small things you love about your sibling until they are no longer in your life. Siblings define our past, are key in our “evolution” of our identity, and they know all of the intricacies of our families. We learn how to navigate emotions and interact with others and the world partly through our sibling relationships. Our siblings saw us in the best of times and in the worst.. In an instant your world changed when your brother or sister died. In an instant, your entire family changed forever. The world as we know it seems to stop, and the crumbling inside our hearts can feel paralyzing.

Reliving aspects of the person’s death or having intrusive thoughts, for example, experiencing nightmares about the death, not being able to stop thinking about how the person died, imagining how much the person suffered, or imagining rescuing the person and reversing the outcome. The death of someone special can be very difficult and sad for a child or teen, but when it is a sibling who dies, the family faces a unique set of challenges The child takes on a different role within the family and the world as a sibling survivor. The most common answers were not being able to say goodbye, taking them for granted and assuming they’d always be here, not saying how much they loved their brother/sister, not spending more time with them, fighting too much, not being able to do something to prevent the death, We may also feel guilty about conflicts with our deceased loved one; things we said or did that, now, we wish we could take back.

 

They are the forgotten grievers. Not many people realize just how hard it is to lose a sibling. Siblings often have very complicated relationships. No one who hasn’t experienced it can understand how it changes your life and how it really affects you. Everyone’s grief is different and as unique as each one of us and our relationship with our sibling, and yet having lost a sibling connects us in a way no one who hasn’t been there could ever understand

 

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FIMHF Blogs

Week 33

Forever In My Heart Friday. FIMHF. Week 33. As I sat at my son’s music concert last night I was washed over with a whole new sense of emotions. Mostly frustration, fear and anger. Yes anger!! I realized it at the point I wanted to lash out at total strangers that my perspectives in life have truly changed. As I was recording Corban singing on stage there were 2 little girls, probably ages 3 and 4, and their parents sitting behind me. The girls were so obnoxious and loud that it made it hard to focus. Hard to even hear the children on stage perform. I know that when I go back and watch the recordings I will be able to hear them loud and clear in the background and it just pisses me off!! It was at that point that I wanted to turn to the parents and say, “Listen, if you can’t keep your children under control them please take them out. Because I’m trying to record my son performing and God forbid he dies like his sister, this will be a part of the only memories I will have of him and you’re children are ruining it!!!” Yes, it took everything in me to not say this!! I could feel my blood pressure rising through each and every song….

To lose a child is to lose a part of life that can never be replaced. Basically, you’re a total mess. There is no “fairy tale” ending. Some days the only word we can use to describe ourselves is “lost.” The void is forever there. Feelings of disconnect, loneliness and empty inside. Burning a hole in your soul. A hole that will never be filled for as long as you live. All too often it takes great courage just to get out of bed and face life head-on because some days the reality of her being gone is just too much. Our world has been shattered. It hurts too much. Constantly lost in thoughts of how life used to be, and how it should be with her alive and you are left feeling helpless. Not knowing how to find hope in your life on some days. You are sad most of the time, even though you don’t show it. A mask that is worn very well now. No one else can bear the burden to an identity now gone. Shattered in knowing that the labor of your deepest love, your most sacred creation has now disappeared. Going through life broken in so many different ways and it breaks you just a little bit more to see others moving on.

Nothing makes sense at all anymore. There are no words, only tears. Your thoughts are never far from your mind. Never forgetting the adventures you had together, the laughter, the memories, the love, and the grandiosity that your child made in your life and who you are now. They live forever in your broken heart. A heart that doesn’t heal or seal back up. And although there is hope, it is not the hope you want. Because when you experience true grief, the end result is grief will never be able to sneak up on you again. Why? Because it forever remains at your doorstep. Letting go of who you thought you were in order to make any sense out of the meaningless tragedy of death. But grief also keeps your child’s love alive in you. It extends the meaning of her life into the world in the most powerful and meaningful ways now. So with that, your child’s death will guide you for the rest of your life. But what a privilege to feel so deeply.

FIM heart emoticon F Mommy loves you Myesha! FIM heart emoticon F Mommy loves you Myesha!