Overcoming Loss of a Parent, Pt. 2

My Mama died and I became numb. It was as if life vacated my body, leaving a confused mind and broken heart to make sense of this new reality. Needless to say, nothing made sense and I could not have made sense of anything if I tried. It was as if every part of me stopped working…stopped doing. It was the first time in a long time (possibly ever), I could not do anything except be.

I sat in my bed alone as looming darkness wrapped around me—neither smothering nor suffocating—but holding me as I held myself by hugging my knees to my chest. Spirit reminded me that although I was alone, I did not have to feel lonely at that moment. I text four people. To my surprise, they each responded to my text with a phone call back-to-back. Taking the initiative to invite my community into the darkness felt like a saving grace. I had to invite people in because I could do little by or for myself.

I stayed the night at my schoolmate’s apartment. He stayed up with me until my body slumped over and went to sleep for a few hours. Around 5 am, he took me to the airport. When I finally got settled at the gate, I experienced a heightened awareness of mothers with their children. Some mothers were attending to toddlers while others were talking to their young adults. Everybody and their mama were on the flight…except me. Sadness overwhelmed me.  Tears began to fall as I sunk into the unknown abyss of loneliness waiting to board my flight to GA. I felt alone even with dozens of people around me. 

I don’t know if you’ve ever cried in public or not, but in my opinion, it is one of the most vulnerable moments one can experience. I did not have the energy to find a hiding place. It would have been just my luck that I ran to the bathroom to cry and missed my flight. So I remained in place allowing my body to begin processing what my brother told me less than 12 hours before, “She’s gone!” As the tears grew bigger and flowed uncontrollably, people continued to go about their day. I felt unseen until I noticed a middle-aged, Black woman looking up at me from her laptop. Looking over her glasses, but trying not to stare… she saw me. I thought if people saw me crying, I would feel ashamed, humiliated, and weak. Her gaze was filled with genuine care and concern. You know how black mothers look at you when they know something is wrong. Less than 5 minutes later, she got up and walked over to me wrapping her arms around me. She said, “It’s gonna be alright,” as she slowly rocked me back and forth. I managed to tell her my mom died. She held me tighter. Tears kept falling, but I could finally breathe again. This black woman provided comfort as only black mothers can. The idea of shame, humiliation, and weakness melted away as she held me in the darkness. The lady handed me a tissue (I still have no clue where it appeared from) and returned to sit with her four young adult children. Spirit connected our spirits. I knew God placed her there for me. This was our only moment of connection. 

At 12 pm, I landed in Augusta, GA. I was met by the embrace of a woman I always wished was my biological sister. 

An encourager 

A truth-teller 

A dream holder 

Joy embodied

Spirit Seeker

Beautiful Soul

A woman, who took me under her wing during my adolescence while others went about their lives. She re-arranged her day to meet me at the airport to give me a hug and “lay her eyes on me.” This is what sisterhood looks like.

My middle brother picked me up and took me to be with the rest of my family. When I arrived, I could feel the weariness of their souls and see how tiredness was affecting each body. 

These are the folks, who were with Mama before she began her journey…before she crossed over.  I could not imagine watching my sister, mother, aunt die an undeserving death, yet they did. And, the devastation of their collective experience caused the darkness to balloon reaching an opacity that made the return of light seem impossible. Again, Spirit reminded me that light and darkness can exist simultaneously. The teenagers in the house showed up as the light we needed. They were aware, gentle, strong, helpful, supportive, and resilient amid the darkness. 

I finally saw my Auntie.  “I’m sorry…” she said as she looked me in my eyes to see if I was okay. You know how black auntie’s check on the well-being of their sibling’s children. They have a particular knowing and sensibility gifted to them by God herself to discern what's really going on. What she knew was none of us were “okay” and this time there was nothing she (“the fixer”) could do about it. We gathered in Auntie’s room and managed to find our breath. We began making plans to take legal action against the hospital as they failed to care for one of the Divine’s most caring women. However, there was one decisive voice missing from the room…my father.

He was home, so we decided to go speak with him.

Upon arrival, most of my other siblings were there. My father’s children. All of them showed up at the hospital the night Mama died. 

All of them.

…to support and console our father.

They made their way to the house the next day presumably for the same reasons…maybe more. When my Auntie and cousin arrived, more came into the house. On the outside, we looked like a blended family. Turns out, these blended family occurrences were few and far in between due to how our father chooses to relate in familial relationships. Dynamics of division materialized as I, 

the only child my parents have together

the youngest by nine years (on both sides of the family),

attempted to mediate a conversation between my mom’s side of the family and my father. 

My father, who I have called by his first name since I was four, was himself. His actions and words were affirmed by others in the room. I was appalled. enraged. dismayed. horrified.

At that moment, I realized I did not lose one parent….I lost two.

The darkness intensified crushing my heart. 

My cousin, who is like a brother,  pulled me out of the toxic atmosphere to get some air.

I that moment, I could not recognize where I was. People were inside the house, but the one person who made it home was not there. 

At that moment, I could not understand what was going on. Why was I forced to be in the middle of it all?

At that moment, I could no longer withstand the weight of the darkness. It broke me down. I bent over and cried. Not an airport cry part two. I let out one of those howling cries. My cousin rubbed my back as my screams and sobs reverberated off the trees on our farm. 

When I finally calmed myself down the darkness was still there, but I knew it by a different name. 

Grief.

Once I could name Grief as a part of my being, I knew Grief was here to stay. My journey to overcoming the loss of a parent began.

(wrapping up in Pt. 3) 

Questions for consideration: (It is best practices to sort through your reflections with a licensed professional to ensure you have the proper care. I am a mental health advocate. I speak with my therapist weekly to learn new ways to tackle my grief. Journal prompts have helped throughout the process of overcoming. Again, seek a professional to support you as you wade through the murky waters these questions may lead you through. We cannot overcome alone.)

• Before I could name grief, I called it the darkness. Given your experience(s) with loss, what are names that describe(d) grief for you? (Take a few minutes and free write about why this name resonates with you.)

• How has inviting other people into your grief experience helped or hindered your overcoming process? What needs or adjustments must be expressed to these individuals to ensure you are receiving the support you need most? (It’s okay to verbalize what you need!)

• God can show up (or NOT) in many different ways when we are grieving. How has the Divine shown up for you? If you feel God was absent (which is a VALID feeling!!!), then in what ways were you expecting God to show up for you? How does God’s activity or inactivity make you feel? How did God’s activity or inactivity impact your faith?

• How have relationship dynamics changed since your loss? How have roles in your family been redefined. How have responsibilities shifted?

• Where do you hold grief in your body? What are some ways you release the tension grief causes? How do these practices move you closer to wellness and wholeness?