Month: May 2016

Forever In My Heart Friday. FIMHF. Week 44. I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve watched this show over the course of my life, specifically with my best friend Cheryl, over and over and over again in high school and college. In fact, she named her youngest daughter Shelby!  But now, NOW I can’t even fathom the idea to watch it because it’s all so real to me.  The raw emotions Malynne expresses, played by Sally Fields in the video clip, is the exact emotions I felt 44 weeks ago and often what I feel now. I’m talking about white-hot, body-shaking, screaming-at-the-top-of-your-lungs ANGER. When we are grieving, anger is another indicator of how much we loved the person who died. If you feel anger over your loved one’s death, you owe no one an apology for your grief or your anger. It is human to be angry and underneath your anger is your pain. Anger can be unattractive, there’s no question about it. It’s messy and unpredictable, sometimes loud and violent. And in a world where we like things to make sense, it’s often unacceptable. Being angry is a way of channeling energy, of making some sense of the pain. When you are protesting an unjust loss, you may have every right to be angry. Emotions aren’t always rational and logical. Feelings are neither right or wrong, good or bad. They just are. And for some of us, being angry may be preferable to feeling the underlying hurt and pain of loss. The more you truly feel it, the more it will begin to dissipate and the more you will heal. It is natural to feel deserted and abandoned, but we live in a society that fears anger. Anger is strength and it can be a mainstay, giving temporary structure to the nothingness of loss.

There’s a long list of people I can be angry with. Many times when I’ve grieved I’ve been angry, although I rarely shared those feelings. Anger is like an arrow, holding steady on the curve of the bow string, waiting for a release, it craves a target. There are many reasons to be angry when a loved one dies. You may be angry because the medical professionals did not do their jobs correctly, or the person who died left you alone with a legal mess, or in a bad situation, or committed suicide. Maybe someone is responsible for your loved one’s death through reckless or violent behavior. Then there’s the feeling that maybe God let you down and didn’t answer your prayers. Yes God. Anger at God is as permissible as at any other target. If we give thanks to God for good times, it seems only natural that God would bear the brunt of at least some of our anger.  Anger hunts to locate the author of the death with the hope that somehow our deceased loved one can be retrieved or in worst case scenario some type of justice can be served. Anger erupts when we have lost control. It is an emotional response designed to regain control. It is a defense against accepting one’s own sense of impotence. This helplessness may be the most painful dimension of a beloved ones death. Ultimately, left feeling very alone, ashamed, conflicted in ones grieving.

But you know what. I found for the longest time I didn’t want to talk about it my anger until recently. Maybe because I wanted to be able to talk about it but I was worried about other people’s reactions to what I would often think about. If they knew, would they think I was “crazy”?  Would people begin “treat me differently” because of where my thoughts we at, at times?

Perfect example that I will now openly share. (* Please note I am completely sane and would never, ever in a million years act upon my feelings of anger.), Remember Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation when Clark doesn’t receive his long-awaited Christmas bonus, loses his shit and gives an angry rant about his boss. Here let me take you back… “Hey. If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I’d like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here…with a big ribbon on his head! And I want to look him straight in the eye, and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed, sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?”  Yeah that moment. Priceless.  Well that’s how I felt about a certain member of the medial staff that was directly in charge of treating my daughter.  All I could think about over Christmas this past year was this moment right here and that certain person that I am still to the day so angry at. I already had it planned out what I would say to them.  How I would tell them that they have ruined our lives forever.  Yeah, that kind of anger.

But the reality is that anger is healthy. Initially, anger is nothing more than an attempt to ward off a reality which is seen as too devastating to one’s own sense of survival. Consider, too, that anger is not a “requirement” of grief because not every griever will feel its force. Anger is a normal part of grief—a bridge of strength and energy (at a time when there is little of either) across the abyss of loss. The way I see it, as long as you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else, you have my permission to be angry. Embrace that anger: accept it and embrace it. Anger must be expressed or ventilated in order for it to burn out. You’re angry because you love them and want them to stay close to you always. Selfish maybe, but normal and human. Then you can work on channeling your anger into positive action, to keep your loved ones memory alive every day of your life. Mommy Loves You Myesha. FIM <3 F

Forever In My Heart Friday. FIMHF. Week 43. “I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish, I wish tonight.”  If only life was that easy, right?? Reality is there is no star that can grant your truest wish. There will never come a time where I won’t think about whom my daughter would be or what she would be doing if she were here today. I wish people could understand that grief lasts forever because love lasts forever; that the loss of a child is not one finite event, it is a continuous loss that unfolds minute by minute over the course of a lifetime. The truth is that the factors that influence the course of our lives are bigger and more mysterious than what we will ever have any control over. Every missed birthday, holiday, weddings that will never be, grandchildren that should have been but will never be born– an entire generation of people are irrevocably altered forever.  How will I live with this loss? Will I survive this sadness? Will I ever love again? Who am I now? In what manner will I go on? How do I want to spend what’s left of my life? How can I honor my loved one’s life? And death? Is there more? What is the meaning of living? How can I find fulfillment now? Why am I here? Sure, it is unlikely that your loved one would want an avalanche of guilt entombing you with your grief. You have enough rebuilding to do, you had to watch a city crumble. Yet finding that purpose to keep going is a daily struggle at times.

Some days we’re fooled into thinking it has quieted down and will remain that way. And, then we’re hit full force with a tidal wave of tears and anguish and we’re knocked flat from the painful force of grief. The hole in our heart is reopened and we suffer the raw pain of loss all over again. The grief caused by death is not only painful but profoundly disorienting-children are not supposed to die. Thus, we as bereaved parents must deal with the contradictory burden of wanting to be free of this overwhelming pain and yet needing it as a reminder of the child who died. After a child’s death, parents embark on a long, sad journey that can be very frightening and extremely lonely- a journey that never really ends. The hope and desire that healing will come eventually is an intense and persistent one for grieving parents. Grieving parents are “survivors” and each survivor travels this lonely and painful road in a way that only we can map out. In traveling this road, parents often respond differently, learn to live with their grief separately, and express their sadness uniquely. Grieving parents can and often do feel alone, disconnected, and alienated. This is why grief lasts forever. The ripple effect lasts forever. The bleeding never stops. Even when you are surrounded by loving and caring family and friends, you may still feel isolated in your grief. Your loneliness may be accompanied by a physical aching sensation. Your heart may literally hurt and feel as if it is breaking. It’s as if you have lost control of yourself and your emotions. Sometimes you fear you are losing your mind or sinking into a “deep hole.” You may feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness. There is no “moving on,” or “getting over it.” There is no rainbow, no fix, and no solution to my heartache. There is no end to the ways I will grieve and for how long I will grieve. I will grieve for a lifetime. Mommy loves you Myesha! FIM <3 F.

Forever In My Heart Friday. FIMHF. Week 42. IT’S HAPPENING!! PANIC! ANXIETY! BREATHE CRYSTAL…BREATHE!! There are so many emotions building up inside of me this week with the coming of Mother’s Day this Sunday. The oddity of it all is that the day itself is not nearly as overwhelming right now though as the anxiety and sadness which precedes it. The idea of Mother’s Day in our culture is painted as brightly and sentimentally as any Hallmark commercial. Signs appear everywhere telling you to not forget your mother, special brunches are offered at restaurants…the list goes on and on. The anticipation and the letdown can be almost excruciating. The crushing blows of a cruel reminder that yet another holiday that I will have to spend without my daughter. The holiday that celebrates my most important, A MOTHER!

On Tuesday my “Timehop” so kindly reminded me that on May 3^rd, 2 years ago it was Mother’s Day. My kids and I were in Playa Del Carmen having the time of our lives with Sheila, Trin and Emma.  Probably one of the best Mother’s Day’s ever.  Then it hit me.  That’s when I realized that Myesha was the party/event planner of the family.  She planned the holidays, the parties, and the special days.  I could always count on breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day and she made sure that all the chores in the house were done so I didn’t have to lift a finger.  She was the delegator on those days and Chloe, Malakhi and Corban never complained. Breakfast in bed was a given. Who’s going to bring me breakfast in bed now? Ohh, how I remember the first time she brought me breakfast in bed, she must have been about 5 or 6 years old.  I woke up to the smell of burnt toast with grape jelly on a little plate sitting on my stomach in bed.  She was so proud of herself.  And you know what?  It was the best burnt toast with grape jelly a mother could ask for.

When a parent loses a child we have now learned to master the art of pretending that we too are ordinary and that life is normal. At first, we are different because of the bitter raw sadness. We are left to struggle within our brokenness and to find a new way to live. We miss our child who was the very center of our world and we miss the joy of being a complete family. But over time, the sadness moves from our skin into our bones. It becomes less visible, but no less who we are. Without pause or hesitation life does continue on whether we like it or not. There are chores to do and bills to pay; morning comes, again and again. So we pick ourselves up and we live, but we are never the same.

Losing a child doesn’t take away our motherhood but everything about being a mom has changed since. I miss the life I once had. Now I’m on my own path of redefining where I now “fit” now in life.  I often miss my former identity. I miss my purpose in life that I had. But I’ve since come to terms that this purpose that I had set in my own mind was not the purpose God had for me or my family. My grief is slowly changing into wisdom. We who have lost children understand life’s fragility and beauty. We who have lost children understand that so many things just aren’t important. All that is important is those we love. All that is important is each other. Nothing else.

But on Mother’s Day, as on each day of the year, I will think of Myesha, remembering who she was, how she changed my life for the better the day she was born and how she continues to make me a better person in death.  I will honor her life by doing the best I can with what is left of my life.  I will remain in the moment and treasure my memories.  And for this mother, that is enough. And though it may bring tears to my eyes and cause that knot in my chest to tighten, I will smile the biggest smile ever when someone wishes me a “Happy Mother’s Day” and say, “Thank you.” Mommy loves You Myesha! FIM <3 F