Category: FIMHF Blogs

For the most part of my life I lived under the assumption that life was essentially fair. I think the majority of us operate under this same principal, whether we know it or not. It’s engrained in our minds from a young age that if we work hard, get good grades, that we will attain our dreams. If we have children, they will out live us and grow up to be upstanding adults.  That we will be grandparents and spoil our grandchildren rotten and then send them back with their parents with smile on our face.

Then something happens.  A husband betrays us. A wife walks out the door and doesn’t come back. A child gets strung out on drugs. We get fired from our dream job. A best friend turns their back on us. These moments we come face to face with the reality that life is not fair, period.

Up until Myesha’s death I was living under the assumption that my children would always be protected.  That nothing bad would ever happen to them.  I would do whatever it took to be that “great mom”, who did homework with them, made them dinner, read them bedtime stories, that Girl Scout leader, that “soccer mom”, all so my children would have a better life and more opportunities than I did. It’s as if I was trying to strike a deal with life, and life be essentially fair, would honor that deal. On July 17th, 2015, I learned that there are no deals.

It’s those chapter’s of our lives when we will find one of those tiny little asterisk’s.  Those tiny, little disclosures no one can ever squint hard enough to actually be able to read and so we choose not to. Assuming it’s probably not really that important or that whatever it says probably doesn’t apply to us anyway. But when we get to the finale, we realize that it did matter and then we are left feeling pissed off and deceived.  My daughter’s sudden, painful death, like many things, was unknowable. It was that asterisk that I didn’t realize would ever have this type of impact.  Damn that fine print!

It’s our choice to believe what we wish and render our best guesses about why bad things happen, but every explanation of why this happened was completely unhelpful and unsatisfying to me at this point. The mystery of death was revealed to me that night in that hospital bed when I held her lifeless body in my arms.  Finding the strength to let go of her hand and move to the head of the bed to take out her braids. Braids that probably needed to be taken out several days prior but that was just not a priority.  Unknowing.  Blinded at the thought that MY DAUGHTER was really going to die!!

Feeling her oil softened, curly strands of hair between my fingers for the very last time and I brushed her hair. The silence of that process was deafening. No bickering and complaining like she always did when her braids where taken out.  To not have to stop a few times so she could scratch a scalp that would begin to itch from securely holding those braids for weeks at a time.  Nothing. Silence. Taking my time with each braid.  Being as careful as I could, like she could even feel anything anymore. I’m sure I was in shock.  My daughter, my first born was really gone….Forever.

I still don’t read the asterisk’s.

No matter how hard we try to always be in control, the truth is life is going to bring a few setbacks. It’s in these moments life is going to flat out suck. It’s going to hurt like hell and leaves us wondering why we are even alive and what our purpose of living is. So with such great adversity, how do we deal with such hell? The answer is with great humility. Let me further explain. When moments of life bring us to our knees, it’s different than just lying down and taking it.  We are left dead in our tracks. Confused by the unfairness and outrage of what is happening. We realize that we are at the mercy of something so much bigger than our ability to understand and comprehend. It’s often a very numbing experience that sucks the life out of us and leaves one feeling completely powerless. In order to move to a true place of healing and optimism we must sub-come to the defeat and all the feelings that it brings.  Never dismissing the disappointment and despair. We are left at the mercy of a reality that will bring feelings of insignificance and failure.  In these moments we will be left feeling so small.

For most of us, it’s in these moments that we will try to self medicate  Some drink.  Some stay in bed and sleep as much as possible. Some try to find ways to stay busy so that they are not left to the demise of those thoughts and feelings that torment and haunt. Why?  Because damn it, “We didn’t sign up for this!!” Some may think that it’s unproductive to whine and complain.  Well, I beg to differ.  There is a since of relief that comes from bitching.  To let ourselves genuinely release all the build up of frustration, anger and disappointment. To just vent and get it all out so we can finally catch our breath and pick up the pieces of our shattered lives and move on.

Nothing I have ever experienced comes close to the unspeakable pain of holding my daughter’s lifeless body in my arms.  I needed to kiss her as much as possible.  I needed to talk to her even though there would never be a response.  I needed to have hope that she could still hear me in some “angelic way”. To brush her hair from her eyes. To feel her curls between my fingers one last time.  To hold on to that feeling in fear that I might forget someday. Still looking for that last miracle.  That last hope that the machines were wrong.  That the doctor’s were all wrong.  That if God truly heard my cries that he would come and majestically provide “miracle of life” that I begged him for. But the humbling truth was, Myesha was no longer in her body.  Her chest was not moving. Her spirit had moved on, and as I held in her my arms, I knew that this same little girl that I only had the joy of sharing 18 years with, now was gone.

When your child dies, all the theories you once had about life, like “Things happen for a reason” vs “There is higher power” quickly turns into a debate. After Myesha died, I heard all of them. It’s like we need to find a way to justify what has happened.  Really? Is this really “God’s will”?  Its “God’s will” that the doctor’s did not listen to her cries of pain.  That the “qualified” professionals that we relied on to make her better, did nothing more than neglect her, belittle her, doubt her pain and in the end took her life. In my eyes, it was nothing short of murder. So all I’m left with now is some bullshit consoling statement of apology.  A “everything works out for the best,” “at least she’s not in pain,” a “God must have needed her in Heaven,” I call bullshit on it all.  I call bullshit on that “master plan” or “destiny”.  Don’t get me wrong, I do believe there is a reason, a life lesson, if you so choose to call it that. But reality is there’s no answers that make us feel any better. Death is an ugly and horrifying mystery. We just want to know where our child is. We quickly become humbled in the search for truth.  The theories about and life and death make no since. Losing a child forces us to fight through the despair, the disillusionment, and all the beliefs we once had about “Dying before you children,” or the “forevers,” and leaves us feeling disorientated and deeply sorrowful. This is where you learn to find strength in humility…..

Death is a scary thing. But even more scary when you have lost a child and there are younger siblings left to here to live a life without their brother/sister. When someone we love dies, it hurts us.  The absence leaves an enormous hole in our lives that will never truly be filled again. But just like when you skin your knee, the first intense pain will go away after a while. It takes time for your knee to heal, but it hurts less and less each day. It’s the same when somebody dies. That doesn’t mean we forget or stop missing people who died. After a while, we can go back to our lives, still loving them and remembering them always.

As Corban and I laid in bed the other night we were watching YouTube videos like we always do in the evenings.  I decided to watch his sister Chloe’s performance of Adele again.  I probably listen to it at least 3-4 times a week.  It gives me chills each time and makes me so proud to hear her sing the way she does. Gosh, Myesha would have been so proud to be there that night and hear her sing and whoop and holler.

So as Corban and I snuggled up and watched it together, it happened.  He asks, “Is Chloe going to die when she turns 18?” My heart sank, my chest tightened, a lump quickly grew in my throat and felt as though it could suffocate me.  That scary, unknown question, that as parents we would like to lie and say, “Of course not.” But the reality is, I can’t say that anymore.  Because I don’t know anymore.  I don’t know how God will decide to have my life play out.  I mean, what parent ever thinks their child will die before them, let alone tragically?  That’s a thought no one wants to think about.  But it’s reality.  It can happen.  It does happen.

“You know Corban.  I can’t tell you that.  It’s not up to me.  That’s up to God and the plan he has for our lives.  But I pray that God does not take Chloe from your life anytime soon.  You are all each other has and I pray you live long lives together and always love and care for each other even after I’m gone to Heaven.”

Today as I am driving him to school another question comes to his mind. “Mom can we celebrate Day of the Dead instead of Halloween?”  “Why?” I asked.  “Because we already celebrate Myesha with a balloon release every year, and since I don’t want to go trick or treating anymore we could have another time to celebrate her.” he said.  “That’s a wonderful idea!” I told him.

Day of the Dead, also known as Dia de los Muertos, is a holiday for remembering and honoring those who have passed. It is a festive, joyous time of celebration. Traditionally, November 1 is the day for honoring dead children and infants.  There are many ways to celebrate but a common tradition is a family gathering telling stories of the ones who have passed and making sugar skulls.  The days of the dead are truly a celebration of life.  It’s a time where children learn to respect that life is brief, they learn there is a circle to life and to not fear death and then are free to enjoy and appreciate every moment. During the days of the Dead, some believe that the souls of the departed return to earth to visit with and to provide council or give advice to family and loved ones. It all makes since to me.

Halloween was Myesha’s favorite holiday.  She loved to decorate the house and carve pumpkins.  Of course it wouldn’t be the same without gathering up her friends and heading off to a haunted corn maize or house. Of course, there was also the candy!! But since her death, I just can’t find it in my heart to pull out that orange Rubbermaid bin of decorations or even think about carving a pumpkin without her right now.  So Corban’s idea is nothing short of brilliant.  We have already changed all of our normal holiday traditions to get through life without her, why not find a way to get through what was her favorite holiday too.

So on Monday night we will be celebrating by making sugar skulls and telling stories about Myesha instead of a traditional Halloween.  We will have a shrimp boil, again her favorite, and begin yet another new tradition in her honor.  For the first time in 2 years, I’m actually excited about this holiday instead of dreading like I have been all month.

So what has my son taught me in all of his childhood innocence?  That if I’m going to die someday, what should I do now?  That answer is, LIVE!! There are many things about death we do not know and may never know. We do know that it will happen, someday, to all of us. But you should not worry or wonder about it for very long. There are too many wonderful things to experience in the many, many years ahead. Don’t be afraid to make your own traditions and create new memories that can still honor your child that has passed.

The toughest part of the day seems to be when everything has slowed down. The work day is done, multi-tasking has ended, and now the only thing you can think about is your child. The loneliness creeps in, leaving behind despair and memories you struggle to hold on to. The grief from losing a child depletes your energy to the point of exhaustion. You never forget the gut wrenching pain you felt as you stood helplessly and watched your child die right in front of you. It’s a nightmare that you learn to live with each and every day.

I will never forget the paralyzing flood of thoughts and emotions from those last 37 hours as my world came crashing down around me. My brain trying desperately to keep up with everything that was happening. There’s no way to adequately describe those frantic, disorienting moments other than to say it was a terrible personal Hell that I’d never wish upon anyone. Those moments will always be as vivid as if they happened yesterday. Like a movie put on “Replay”, it never escapes far from my mind.

When your child dies life as you once knew it is no longer. That stained glass window to your soul has been shattered into a million pieces. All you can do is lie down, be still in your thoughts and try not to move so that the glass doesn’t cut you anymore than it has. The shattered pieces of your heart have left you with nothing more than utter confusion, disbelief, turmoil, and pain. Finding the strength to get up and put yourself back together is a journey that takes time, faith and courage. It’s finding that “glue” inside yourself and turning that broken heart into a most beautiful mosaic. Never the same. Forever changed. Those shattered pieces that you “glue” back together are a marker to all you have endured. The edges will always have a sharpness to them however, that will never change. Those sharp edges are your constant reminder of how fragile life is and how deeply it can cut even the toughest of hearts. But unlike before, you will shine from different angles. The sun will reflect a new image of strength. You have grown more than you can imagine. This reconstructed mosaic piece of art, known as your heart and soul is a beautiful tribute and also a heavy toll that you learn to live with.

The truth is, the idea that my child will one day be forgotten, is one of my greatest fears. Letting go, in any capacity, is going to feel like the ultimate betrayal…

The phrase “Tomorrow is not guaranteed” is often said for a reason. Losing a child is a trauma that is heartbreaking in a very literal sense. Until this is understood to be the most painful of all losses, there will never be a bridge of understanding needed to help parents cope. Grief takes a toll on you and the need for self-replenishing and self-redefining can be a conflicting struggle in every since. When the suffocating suffering passes you will find yourself left with the pieces of the person you once were that has now been destroyed in order to feel something, or even possibly feel nothing. Redefining and recreating a purposeful, meaningful life, poses enormous physical, social, psychological, and spiritual challenges. The work of grief involves learning to live with and adjust to the loss. Dealing with pain is pertinent. It all starts with the sick reality that death must be acknowledged; it cannot be fought or denied. Our lives are not our own. Our child’s life was pre-determined long before we brought them into this world. But thankfully love endures death. There may be a sense that you are never finished with grief, but realistic goals of regaining an interest in life and feeling hopeful again is so important. You have to do whatever it takes to stay out of that dark hole, which is so easy to get trapped in, and live your life as a celebration of their life, not as a slave to their memory. Mommy loves you Myesha!! FIM <3 F

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is to be completely alone with our thoughts. I have always been one who has kept myself busy so that I didn’t have to do just that…think. I only took a week off after Myesha passed away, for two reasons. 1.) I was in the middle of a nasty divorce and with recent changes in income I was not in any position to be able to afford the time off. 2.) I think somehow I just thought I could be strong enough to pick up and move on with the life God had chosen me for, as tragic as it may be. I had two other kids to live for and I couldn’t just give up. But I realize that with just such a short amount of time, I never really gave myself time to grieve. Time to allow all of my thoughts and raw emotions to come to surface so I could battle them, absorb them, try to make sense of all of it. Life isn’t fair, it’s really more of a coin toss and you never know what side you will get despite how hard you struggle to be on the right side of things. The grief of losing someone you love in your life consumes your mind and starts a rebellion inside you. It leaves you with fighting your own insecurities and cracks open your skull. You lose your mind thinking what could have been and what you could have done differently.
I speak to quite a few people now a day who also struggle with grief. I would never refer to myself and a professional, but my own journey through this process has definetly put me in the category of experienced. I recently had a conversation with a friend who had lost their mother, their best friend. As their 2 year marker was approaching they found themselves questioning what to do with their life now. What they needed to do in order to make their mom “proud”. It struck a chord with me. Isn’t that the question we all have? What do we do now? How do we continue on and try to find that happiness that we so desire in a walk of life that has suddenly stripped us of that hope of finding that place in our hearts again. That’s when I realized that when our loved ones pass, we do have an obligation to ourselves to find a way to continue on in a life without them, as hard as it may be. At some point you just have to stop fighting that battle within and start forgiving yourself. In times like these, you need to accept that you are at war with yourself. You are not at war with someone else’s inflicted pain or someone else’s mistakes. You are battling a war with your current state. No matter what anyone says, they will not be able to get through to you. The pain and emptiness and the hopelessness will form a deadly alliance and continue to besiege you in the darkest hours of the night. However, wars are not won by the weak that aren’t prepared to accept the harsh realities of life. That’s why grief and acceptance of the life bestowed upon us is a constant battle.
But when you least expect it, the smoke will dissipate and the rays of the sun will shine through, in place that was once so dark. What time does give you is more perspective, more time to dissolve the physical hurt that burns inside the depths of your soul. It gives you the options of when it’s okay to feel that grief and when you need to compartmentalize it so that you can continue on each and every day. To make the person you lost, well, “proud” of you. To try and figure out a constructive way to tuck that grief away for a while and deal with the present. That is often where you will find the gratitude and sweetness in remembering how blessed you were to have them in your life. That’s when you will find those few moments of happiness and “make them proud”. Mommy Loves you Myesha. FIM<3F