Overcoming Loss of a Parent, Pt. 1

“Lord, come into this room,” said Mama as she gasped for breath while transitioning out of her hospital room to the cardiovascular unit. Surrounded by several family members, a staff of doctors and nurses, possibly including the one healthcare professional who administered her medicine incorrectly, Mama’s body was experiencing the ugly transition of death. Her heart failed, yet her faith persisted. Her worn body fought to remain on this earth, but our ancestors were calling her sweet spirit home. 

Hours earlier, she sent me a text. It’s like she knew I was having an awful day. You know the ways Mama’s intuit when their children need to hear their voice. The voice of affirmation, compassion, edification, and validation. I imagine she reached over to grab her Dollar Tree glasses, followed by her outdated iPhone, to type to me with her left index finger: “My dear daughter, your grandmother is very proud of you. Handle your business like the professional that you are. I am proud because you gave that employee a chance, but she didn’t take advantage of it. That’s her bag (she meant her “bad”). You handle(d) the situation well. I am a little tired now, will text more tomorrow. Goodnight. (7:23 EST)” 

 After reading the first line of the text, I felt Grandma’s Spirit wash over me like warm water poured out on the body of a little black girl from the cup in her grandmother’s hand during bath time. I was baptized in her love, again. There is nothing like being showered with the pride of an ancestor. Grandma left us when I was in second grade. She, too, died in the hospital after her heart failed. She went to the hospital, and seven to ten days later, she was gone. Mama was in the hospital about six days before she took flight. As she embarked on her ascension, she brought a message over from the other side. I believe Grandma was there to come and get her oldest daughter. Grandma wouldn’t let her take this journey alone. Deep down, I knew she was going home to be with the Lord and to make herself free from the troubles of this world. You know the ways daughter’s intuit when their Mama is going through something, even when we can’t call that thing by name. I refused to trust myself this time as I had refused to trust myself many times before. I didn’t realize this type of knowing is valued and was gifted to me by the Divine.

 My sense and sensibility were confirmed once I began receiving call after call from my middle brother. 

 “Mama’s having another episode…they workin’ on her.”

 “Her blood pressure bottomed out…they got it back up.”

 “ Her heart stopped…they are rushing her to the cardiovascular unit.”

 This was only a few hours after she text me. I knew I needed to get home. I booked a next-day flight to Augusta, GA landing at noon. The bag I packed was sparse. While heading outside to grab my headphones out of my car, I asked the Spirit to comfort my mother and give her peace in her Spirit. Her body was going through her final experience of hell on earth. Still, I believe her Spirit was rejoicing as she began to see the faces of Grandaddy, Big Uncle, Auntie Mary Lou, Uncle Charlie, and Uncle Eugene. The only ancestors I remember. Mama’s smile got a little bigger. Her steps were more soulful. She could dance again without being ridiculed by my father. Her voice became even more angelic, which seems impossible. Her burdens got lighter. Her earthly life was over, and this time I knew it for sure. I even experienced a shift in my own body. I had not bled for two months due to extreme stress. This was abnormal for me. Soon came a moment in which I felt a release. Less than 15 minutes later, around midnight, I learned from my oldest brother that Mama’s soul was released into the hands of angels. “Gina…she’s gone,” he said.

My Mama died and I… (to be continued in Pt. 2)

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.)

• When is the last time you invited the Lord into your “room”? What were your expectations of the Lord upon arrival? What might you need from the Lord right now? I encourage you to identify these needs and boldly place them before the Lord and the ancestors with the expectation they will respond.

 • What words from your parent or guardian (deceased or alive) do you carry with you daily? Are they affirming or deforming (negative)? How do these words shape the way you move and have your being?

• If you could say one last thing to an ancestor, what would it be? (FYI: You can still say this thing. They can hear us and want to hear from us.)

• I remember my mom’s smile the most. What do you remember the most about your beloved ancestor? What feelings does this memory bring up for you?