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Dealing with grief after loss
Dealing with grief after loss
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I wish heaven had visiting hours, so that I could visit you on your birthday and for Mother’s Day. I wished I could talk to you when I really need someone to talk to because I feel alone. I never really accepted the reality that you’re gone. I will never hear your voice again or see you smile, and I still cry even thought you have been gone for a long time. My heart still hurts, and I native to how I made it this far. I like to believe that you are walking by my side daily, and when I’m cold or sad you’re hugging your baby. I never wanted to say goodbye, and I wished I had at least another hour with you. Losing you so young had created a wound that will never heal. I wished you or someone taught me how to live without you because I have been …show more content…
I can’t call or send you a quick text when I am feeling down. I missed you Momma, but I know nothing I can do will bring you back, and trust me I tried. Crying and praying didn’t change a thing or bought me peace. I wished I had you more than anything right now because I need advice, a friend, a hugged and a mother. I wished we could spent Christmas together this year, because you’re the only present I need. I wished you could come back and stay for a while because I truly need my mother. I am going through a lot right now, and I want to give up on life. I am questioning God more and more on why he took you from me, but I will never know why so I have to force myself to move on. Life is getting harder and harder without you and I hate that. I truly thought it would be easier since I am older now, but I am crying and thinking about you weekly. I feel like I’m not living and that I should be with you. I know you’re looking down from heaven, and you see that I am not fine down here. I wished I could get over the feeling of feeling sorry for myself for I could get the help I need. This is sixteen years of pain I am fighting against, and momma, the pain is
I, of course, knew my mother as a mother. As I have reached adulthood and become a mother myself, I have also known her as a friend. My mom shared much of herself with me, and I saw sides of my mother as she struggled with her cancer that I had never seen before, especially her strong belief in positive thinking and the importance of quality of life. I was privileged to know so many facets of my mother, but certainly I did not know all. There were parts of her life that I didn’t see, relationships that I didn’t know about. Last night, at the wake, so many stories were told to me about my mom’s strength, courage, humor, kindness, her quietness, her loyalty as a friend. It was so special to hear of these things that my mom said and did, to know some of these other parts of her life. I hope that her friends and family will continue to share these stories with me and with each other so we can continue to know and remember my mom.
I’m glad we have Maurice, my mother’s younger brother here today. Ella, her older sister, unfortunately couldn’t make it, but I know the news of my mothers death hit her hard. And I know that she prayed with all her will, for my mother.
It is hard to give a eulogy for one’s parent. More than the death of a classmate or sibling, the death of a parent is not only a loss, but also a reminder that we are all following an inevitable path. We are all “Outrunning Our Shadow” as her friend Fred Hill so provocatively titled his book.
I want to thank all of my Mother’s friends and family for being here today to celebrate her life and to mourn her death. I’m sure she would be thrilled to see all of you here and I know it would have meant the world to her.
Over the next few days, we took it easy. I went back to work. My mom was getting worse as each day went on with a few good days in between, of course. We ended up moving my niece Lexi’s birthday up a few days because we wanted to make sure my mom would be there for it. She, my mom, couldn’t talk as well anymore, but she made the effort to sing for her granddaughter. The day before my niece’s actual birthday, my mom passed away. Her wish had come true, too. She had wanted my dad to be the only one in the room when she went.
I never thought that I would walk in that hospital, preparing myself for those contractions because it was finally the day I was gonna meet my baby girl, to end up getting rolled out that same hospital in a wheel chair with an empty car seat. Even when the nurses said that you were gone I still didn’t believe it. I just knew you were going to come out screaming at the top of your lungs until my mom handed me you and you laid there in my arms so helpless. From that moment on I felt like I failed you. I blamed myself for losing you because I couldn’t even do the one thing that you needed me to do most, which was to give you life.
One of my earliest memories of Grandpa begins with us driving to the Monmouth Park Racetrack. We sure did love to go to the track and root for Julie Krone or one of our other favorite jockeys. He loved challenges, and he especially loved the challenge of picking the ponies. He would read the race programs in the Asbury Park Press and usually pre-pick most of the day's favorite horses before ever leaving the house. Still, on arrival, we always bought the program and maybe a race sheet or two before entering the track grandstand. After picking up a couple of seats right around the finish line or maybe a little past it, back to figuring he'd go. As he went, grandpa would always point out the horses that had won recently or looked like they were due. "I have a feeling about this one" he'd say.
but that’s okay we all will go through our day if we haven’t gone through it already just give it time. My mom died on July 15, 2013. Losing a parent is like a deep depression that is filled with questions down from why it happened, to why so soon real life hurt. The Earth stood still that day, almost like it stopped spinning because someone I considered to be my everything was taken from me. The sun stopped shining and darkness covered everything around me I truly lost my way.
When you got sick and the doctors told me I should hold you back you taught me it was more important to feel and grow like any other child than to have me hide you under my wing. It was more important to live. And that you did. You danced so beautifully, for years. And then your greatest joy, cheerleading. You made me so proud. You have always been my greatest pride and joy. I'm not sure how I can live this life without you. Remember when you would cry and tell me you were so afraid because you didn't want me to die before you. And I would tell you I wasn't going to die. And remember me saying you couldn't die before me, so we agreed, we had to go at the same time because neither of us could live without the other.
My mother told me, “Maria, the best thing to do when you're in pain, is to look above, and put all your trust in God, for He has a plan”, but sometimes those kind-loving words are not strong enough to numb the excruciating pain that feels like a hit to my heart. * ** “Maria, Happy Birthday, my beautiful angel!” My mother’s precious arms encircle me restricting me from air. I chuckle lightly and return her precious hug.
It was June 6, 2011. I remember taking my mother to the County Hospital’s emergency room. She seemed extremely exhausted; her eyes were half-closed and yellow, and she placed her elbow on the armchair, resting her head on her palm. I remember it was crowded and the wait was long, so she wanted to leave. I was the only one there with her, but I did not allow her to convince me to take her home. I told her in Spanish, “Mom, let’s wait so that we can get this over with and know what’s going on with you. You’ll see everything is okay, and we’ll go home later on.” I wish then and now that would have been the case. Unfortunately, she was diagnosed with colon cancer that had spread to many parts of her body including her lungs and kidneys. The doctor said to me not considering that I was a minor and my mother’s daughter, “Her disease is very advanced and we don’t think she will live longer than a year.” With this devastating news, I did not know what to do. I thought to myself that perhaps I should cry, or try to forget and take care of her as best I could and make her laugh to ease her pain.
I believe that every person in, in their own unique way, creates a legacy in their lifetime by which others can live long after that person has left us. For those of us who remain, Mildred Johnson has truly created a legacy to uphold and fulfill in our daily lives. I firmly believe that this carrying out is a true honor and responsibility by means of the various facets that Mildred has made her own.
She fought for as long and hard as she could, and she passed away peacefully with my father by her side. For the past nine years, I had felt like I had been carrying the heavy, aching weight of my grief on my shoulders, but it slowly began to lift away. I started to feel happy, and I learned to appreciate the moments I share with my family, because our lives may end suddenly and without any warning. My mother lived the best life that she could, and the memories she had made with my family would be forever frozen in time in nostalgic pictures in dusty, old
Anthony, I thank you for all the fun times we have spent together even if they were short lived. Over the years I have come to the conclusion that you must have been an angel sent by God to help me grieve and become a strong willed woman because no one has ever been able to help me see the light like you could. Clouds of darkness shadowed over me no matter what anyone else would say, but you made me smile with just your presence. You didn't have to say a word; everything was okay when you were beside me.
This Friday night seemed just like any other with Mom and I lounging on the sofa watching the Grand Ole Opry. I could feel the joy that the Opry brought to my mom just by the look in her eyes as she watched, listened, and sometimes sang. Well she hummed more than she sang but that was my mom’s way of singing. As we watched her eyes would glow. Sometimes I would see a sparkle. As I watched her I knew what I had to do. I hugged my mom and said “Mother, when I’m all grown up I’m going to take you there”. Mom hugged me in return and said, “I’m sure that you will”.