I am a 26 year old woman who lost her mother at 23. I don't have too much of a problem saying that or defining myself as that, because for the purposes of this entry, that's exactly what I am. Why sugarcoat it?
My mother was 52 when she passed away. It was very sudden. She was alone at home in the state of Mississippi, where she was in the process of relocating to. She was raised in Brooklyn, New York, and by the age of 52 she was more than tired of what life in the New York area, or really the Northeast, had to offer a black woman (and I really don't blame her). She had actually driven her last bit of belongings all the way from New York to Mississippi that last trip of her life. She had made new Mississippi friends and marveled at the warmer and more friendly lifestyle that Southern blacks were enjoying. She felt it was just a richer, clearer, and less tainted species of black that was living and breathing in Mississippi.
She had sort of stumbled upon Mississippi because she enrolled my younger brother in an African American boarding high school down there called Piney Woods. After about a year of experiencing Mississippi life, she was hooked and decided to move down there. She purchased a condo and began her transition. It's funny, because at the time I was still in college at Howard University and in my Northeast mentality I was not at all pleased with her decision to move down to Mississippi of all places??? o_O All I really saw when we flew down there to visit my brother were trees, Confederate flags, and Waffle Houses. "What was she thinking?", I thought to myself. How ironic it is that now at 26, I have become entranced with the idea of relocating to a BLACK society outside of the U.S. when just a few years ago, I was not supportive of the idea of my mother basically striving for the same thing...
The last trip my mother made to Mississippi she had made at the last minute. She was still living between New York and Mississippi but was almost completely settled in down there. She had to however make an unexpected drive to deal with a situation with my brother who was by now in his freshman year of college in Mississippi. I remember walking home one day from work and for the first time in my life almost scolding her on the phone about the fact that she had decided to drive solo all the way from New York to Mississippi. She suffered from bouts of exhaustion just from flying down there (she had a heart condition). But as always, she was adamant about getting down there to help her child as well as transporting a last bit of her things.
A day or two later, I had my last conversation with my mother. It was brief. She was going to tell me something important about my brother. I found out later she didn't get into what it was at the time because she didn't want to upset me especially because I was going out to some party, so she told me something along the lines of "don't worry about it, we'll talk later". She sounded quieter but you of course never have any idea what will be the last conversation with someone, especially your mother. It's just NOT something that at 23 you even think about. We hung up with the promise of talking the next day, but we never did.
At the time, I was working for NBC News and I remember that Monday or Tuesday trying to call my mother because the shootings at Virginia Tech had happened. I always called her when there was interesting breaking news since I usually had first dibs on major stories breaking. The thing was she didn't answer her phone. I wasn't worried. I called several times over the next few days but couldn't get through. I still wasn't that worried, because it wasn't totally abnormal for us to once in a while go for a few days without speaking, but come to think of it, at that time we would at least speak on the phone every morning as I walked to work. I figured she was just busy.
Eventually my American grandmother of Barbadian descent who retired to Barbados (there goes that relocating streak again ;) ) called me and and asked my if I had heard from my mother. It turned out she already knew that my mother had passed away but her as well as my aunt, uncle, and father were all trying to figure out the best way to tell me. In the end, my dad came to Maryland from NYC and broke the news to me. I was hysterical.
It turned out that my mother had a pulmonary embolism (a blood clot) that formed in her leg and went to her lungs. It get's complicated but basically this was caused by something called "Deep Vein Thrombosis", which happens to be one of the top killers of women (who knew, right?). She was home alone when it happened. A few days later she was found at the bottom of her stairs (not like she had fallen, but like she had sat down to rest as the embolism occurred). Apparently an embolism takes you out pretty quickly leaving you with little chance of survival. She didn't pass away from something related to her heart condition which we automatically assumed was the culprit before her autopsy was completed. This embolism may have formed because she had sat in a car driving to Mississippi for too many hours or because of these very large fibroids that she had... which may have contributed to a blockage of circulation. It's hard to say and at the time, I really didn't care too much about the details. It was all too shocking and unbelievable.
Three years later, I am finally coming to terms with the fact that she is not here (on this plane). It's funny, because people (myself included) assume that grief and mourning is some sort of automatic progression, but for me that has not been the case. My experience was instant shock and heartache, then the funeral, but after a few months I think I went into some sort of mild acceptance/padded blindness (if that makes sense, that's the only way I can think to describe it). Looking back maybe it was because I had an amazing support system (aunt and both grandmothers as well as an amazing friend who stayed with me at my apartment for weeks) to bridge the gap. However, nowadays it is really and suddenly sinking in - just the reality of it all. Like - wow, my mother really passed away. I know she is around me, but it's almost amazing that I of all people actually experienced this. I've realized however that losing a mother for me, has really taken it's sweet time to settle in. But it finally has. This is the heavy feeling that people describe. The thing that can bring you to tears in an instant. The thing that makes you feel somewhat "different" than other people your age. The thing that hits you at the most random moments - like when you're shopping and see other mother/daughter pairs or when you hear a friend complain about their mother. The thing that affects your entire being, every angle of your personality. Death is real. Very real. But I honestly think it's harder for me to deal with than her. If anything, she is probably more frustrated that she isn't here to do everything that she was trying to do, and to be here with my brother and I as we settle into adulthood. She did SOOO much for me in the 23 years that I had her here with me, that I realize she did more than some people's mother's will do in a lifetime. She was THAT exceptional.
My beliefs are indisputably that she is alive and happy in another realm, but around me and very much aware of the happenings in my life.
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Please everyone (whether you have experienced a loss or not), feel free to comment. I know people tend to feel uncomfortable about commenting on a loss of life. Still, for whatever reason, having people hear me out on this topic helps my grieving process in a way (I take moral support wherever I can get it these days, lol). I wrote this because a few people have been urging me to write more (they say I write well) and I'm also trying to become more personal in my blog, so I figured this topic was an easy/difficult way place to begin. Surprisingly, I feel a little lighter after writing this. My eyes welled up a few times, but I managed to not shed one tear. Phew! lol And don't be freaked out by my "lol's" in this post.. I just feel like death should be openly discussed and not treated so morbidly. That just makes it harder to deal with (for me).
I'll expand on this post later on the topics of the unexpected good things that have come from my mother's passing. Yes, good things can and do come after losing a loved one. It's that thing that my psychic friend mentioned called Divine Order.
Thanks for listening : )
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