(Trigger warning: Trigger warning for anyone that has lost a loved one to a sudden illness, tragedy, or Covid-19. This blog is based on my personal experiences and is not intended for medical advice. If you or a loved one is experiencing a medical or mental crisis, please contact your personal physician or seek help from a licensed professional.)
This blog is lovingly dedicated to my mother, Tina.
Stephen King wrote in his book Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption about a man named Andy Dufresne. His best friend he met in prison named Red had a moment towards the end of the book when he recounts suffering the loss of his friend. He said, “Some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they’re gone.”
My mother was a force to be reckoned with. She was pure fire, but had a gentle way about her. She’d give the shirt off her back and the food off her plate if she thought you were in need. That is just how she was to everyone she met. There was no such thing as a stranger in her book. She over tipped her waitress or waiter, she chatted with everyone as if she knew you your whole life, she sang, she danced like no one was watching, she composed poetry and short stories. Occasionally she would get a faraway look in her eyes when she would look at something in nature. When she stared at a waterfall, I knew her mind was wandering to some distant, and fascinating place. There were occasions when a song would play on the radio, and she would turn up the volume to deafening levels and smile.
I can’t find the words to define to depth of the hole she left behind.
There is nothing more painful than the sting of losing your mother. She called me one morning to say she had been caught out in the rain the night before and she felt bad. Within five days we found out she had covid. Within five days after that, she passed in her sleep. She was 67. Her beautiful voice was silenced, and my world fell silent as well.
She was my best friend.
If you have lost someone, you have heard all the popular lines, “They are in a better place, at least they no longer suffer, and it will get easier.” The one that is repeated the most to me is, “You are so brave.” Well… I don’t feel brave. I recognize people mean well, but I am not brave.
Zoe Clark-Coates said it best when she said, “People kept saying I was brave… I fought the desire to laugh each time it was said. I felt far from brave. I was scared. I was terrified. I was holding my breath to see if I could even survive the journey I was forced to walk.” I am forced to walk a new journey without my mother.
Fear was an emotion I did not know would happen.
It amazes me how much I became dependent on her. Not only as my mother, but as a friend and sounding board. She was my biggest fan and beta reader. I never felt like my book was finished until she had read the final edition of the books I would publish. It would always amuse me how she would call me up with her shy voice and point out a mistake I had made. I would always tell her to be bold and that my feelings were not fragile. My mother was an avid reader, a fan, and she had so much respect for my profession. She said she felt funny critiquing an author.
You and I both know, as fellow authors; we are nothing more than a writer in a bathrobe pounding out our latest idea onto paper. But to my mother, I was the next Anne Rice or Stephen King.
I know it is sad to speak this out loud, but I promised my blogs would be honest. The first thing that went through my mind when the shock of her death wore off was there would be no one left on this earth that would be as proud of me as she was. This is the first time I have written a single word since she died.
Yes, the tears are flowing as I write, but this is my healing journey.
When Anne Rice died, it was another hard blow to me. I had always admired her. Not just for her books, but because she was such a humble woman. A few times she spoke to me on Facebook, and I treasured every word. Her son Christopher spoke on his Facebook wall about his experience so far in dealing with the loss of his mother. I could relate when he said, “As anyone who has delt with grief knows its strange rhythms. You walk into the kitchen to complete some menial tasks and thirty minutes later you realize you’ve been staring out the window the whole time, with no memory of what brought you downstairs in the first place. Your memories of the departed are wildly stimulated and present in your every other thought, but this is frightening because you have just lost something profound and so you worry these memories are rising within you because they are about to take wing and depart.”
I have lost many people in my life that I have loved dearly, but nothing prepared me for this. It feels as if I am trapped in a limbo of feeling like I need to move on and support the others who loved her as well and falling deep into a hole of despair. I’m not special. Many people have lost loved ones to covid or a sudden illness or tragedy. Tragedy, and the love of our lost loved ones links us.
Here is how I am dealing with it so far…
I search for any spec of positivity I can find in a day. Even if all I did was shower or make my bed, I got up and put my feet on the floor. I cry it out, I talk it out and yes, there are days when I fall silent and need my time alone. There have been a few days of binge-watching Netflix in bed all day, and there have been days when I drink coffee and post on social media. I have drove around alone into nature where my mother did most of her exploring. I even traveled to her place of prayer and left a note on the altar.
How can I find anything positive in all of this?
I keep moving.
I keep moving towards healing my soul. I do not know what my life or writing career will look like without my mother, and I have no idea where my healing journey is going to take me. All I know is, is that I am going to heal, eventually. That day is not today, but it is in my future.
There are no rules or time limit when dealing with death. To me, that would be like saying that my love for her had its limitations. When I love someone, it is with my whole heart, mind, and soul. There is not an in-between.
Wherever you are on your healing journey, I want you to know that you are not alone. My heart is breaking with you and for you. You don’t have to be brave or hide your tears. Feel whatever you need to feel as you need to feel it.
Take your time.
We are in this together.
~B.
