My daughter died today. My firstborn. The child that forever changed my life for the better. At 6:56 pm on Friday, July 17th, 2015, I laid in a hospital bed with my daughter Myesha Raven-Symone, wrapped her in my arms just like the day she was born, said my goodbyes with her sister Chloe, and I gave her back to God. Today marks 7 years since I endured what would inevitably be the worst day of my life.
Grief is a funny thing. On the days when I feel the saddest, a part of me wants it to go away, except I don’t want it to go away. Makes zero sense, right? Let me explain. If we aren’t sad, then does that mean we don’t care anymore? That we don’t miss them? That we’ve sub come to just moving on? Those are horrible things to think, or even say out loud. So naturally, we feel conflicted about how we should feel, act, and live now that our child is gone. So on days like today, I just need to be. I don’t want to get out of bed. (I’m literally laying in bed as I type this). I don’t want to plan anything special. (That brings a lot of guilt). I just want to sit in the silence of my room and BE. (So here I am).
Just recently Chloe turned 21. The first milestone in life that I didn’t get to experience with my oldest child, but with my middle child. It was at this moment that I realized this will now be the first of many that I will share with Chloe now, not her. At times it seems surreal. As I watched Chloe celebrate, I couldn’t help to wonder and think of how Myesha would have celebrated. How she would have helped Chloe plan for hers. A part of me felt cheated. Another part of me felt a great deal of pain because I felt like Chloe was cheated too. As I watch my children grow and life continues to move forward, I now realize that sharing how Myesha handled certain situations in her life at their age will diminish. Corban will only get 4 more years of these, “What would Myesha do” moments, and he too will have outgrown his oldest sister.
Over this last year, I have had to learn that moving forward doesn’t mean I have to forget Myesha, because that will never happen. Accepting is not the same as forgetting. The memories I have with her have become more of a defining source of who I am as a person in all aspects of my life. I have had to adjust my life to live around my grief, yet never lose my grief. Instead of my heartache and pain diminishing, I realize it has always remained the same as the day she died. But as time goes by, my life is slowly growing around it. It’s learning to live without her differently.
The best way I can describe it is from an experience we did in science class as a child. You take a coffee filter and a black Sharpe marker. Now draw a dark circle in the middle of the filter. That dark circle is your GRIEF. You can make it as big or as dark as you want because grief is different for everyone. Now add a few drops of water right on top of your grief circle. These are your TEARS. After a while, an array of colors starts to spread from the dark circle. This is LIFE. You will inevitably add more “tears” to your “grief” but somehow the color, “LIFE”, still spreads and grows.
Do you get it now? Grief no longer dominates the circle because life is growing around it, but it’s always going to be there. I am learning that this is normal. My new sense of normal. Finding my rainbow of hope, my sunflower of life, after the storm.
Mommy loves you so much Myesha. I’m sorry the doctors we trusted failed you. I will always live with the guilt as your mother that I failed you too, that will never change. I have worked and will continue to work through blood, sweat, and tears to give Chloe and Corban the life you never got to have. Even when I feel like giving up, you are the source of my strength, I thank you for that. And even on the days when I am happy, just know I have not forgotten about you. These are the days I often wish the most that you were here to enjoy them with me…… By the way…. You would have FREAKIN LOVED TikTok!!
