One Year Later: Can We Talk About Grief?

My mother passed away a year ago today. My life was forever changed. The last year of my life has been a whirlwind of emotions and changes. Everyone knows about the 7 Stages of Grief, but I truly believe there are even more stages that don’t have names yet. We tend to focus on the sadness associated with grief. My journey has taught me that you go through way more emotions and stages than just that. And honestly, some of them even surprise you.

Zombie-Like Phase?

I don’t really know what to call this phase. I just know the time between her passing and the funeral was a blur for me. I woke up every day, cried for like an hour, and worked out, then I just existed for the rest of the day. I felt numb and didn’t exactly know what to do. Working out was probably my only sense of normalcy, even though I sometimes cried during my workouts. I don’t even think it had fully sunk in that she was gone. Thankfully, my sister and my aunts handled all of the planning. I’m not sure I could have done anything even if they had asked me to.

We were all gathered at the house the morning of the funeral, and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I was terrified of the funeral and didn’t know how I’d react to seeing my mother in a casket. I used to criticize black families for waiting two or three weeks to bury their loved ones, but I truly understand now. That zombie phase ends exactly the moment you walk up to the casket. Honestly, mine ended at the chapel doors as I fell completely apart before even walking inside. Now that you have the visual, your brain can no longer block out what you don’t want to accept or face. It felt like I had been cracked open. And the burial is like that last punch before a TKO. What once felt like just a nightmare is now real, and you can’t escape it anymore.

Deep Sadness

Now, the deep sadness rolls in. Walking away from my mother’s gravesite was probably the hardest few steps I’ve ever walked in my life. Shout out to my best friend, Tegan, for noticing my reluctance to leave. She took me by the hand and walked back with me to say goodbye again. I knew once I left there that was really it, and I wasn’t okay. I distracted myself in the following days with the family members still in town, but I knew that would come to an end soon.

Everyone returned home and got back to their lives. The texts and phone calls slowed down. I was getting summoned back to work. I don’t think anything can prepare you for those super quiet days that follow. This time is when you notice the gaps in your life that your loved one used to fill, and there’s no way to fill some of them. You also start to see who is really “there for you.” Everyone wants to be on the right side of history when something happens. The ones who still keep an eye on you a year later are really down for you because the most challenging parts didn’t start until after everything calmed down. I sat for weeks, pretty much just staring at the walls. I felt paralyzed in my sadness. Some days, I’d cry for hours until I had a splitting headache. I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. The pain was almost unbearable at times. I also hid how bad it was a lot of the time because sometimes I felt like I was supposed to be further along in my healing or that people didn’t want to hear a sob story each time they contacted me. I would be weeping but responding to messages saying I was okay. It took me a while before I was able to resume normal activities with the confidence that I wouldn’t fall apart during them.

Though my family members were also grieving, everyone goes through it differently. So, at times, I felt like I was alone in my grief. It felt like I was in a black hole, and nobody could get to me. My counselor would always remind me that people aren’t exactly able to come into that space with me but not to shut out the ones who wanted to support me through it.

Feeling Guilty for Living?

I was prepared for this emotion, but not in all ways it came. We always think about what we could have done differently when we lose someone. My mom and I had a lot of ups and downs in our relationship over the years. I felt guilty for many things that I felt maybe I could have handled better, and I feel like she did too. I even felt guilty about certain things dealing with her death and how it all played out. However, I have the wisdom to know that there’s no benefit in traveling down that rabbit hole. No one is perfect. At the moment, it’s not always so apparent what the right decision is. We all seem to have perfect vision after the fact, though.

Guilt also showed up when I tried to start rejoining the world. Whenever I went out to do anything, I felt guilty for having too much fun. It felt like I wasn’t supposed to enjoy myself while my mother wasn’t here. My first outing was two or three days after she passed away. My best friend, Eva, had come into town and was staying at the casino. I went with her to have dinner at the restaurant where our friend, Cemekia, worked. I was teary-eyed all night and couldn’t enjoy myself. Eva and I sat in her hotel room and cried together before I left. I drove home in my mother’s car and cried the entire way. I’m talking snotty-nosed weeping the whole drive. I thought maybe it was just too soon for me to be out.

I waited about a month before I went anywhere else. My other best friend, Brittany, took me on a little girls’ day trip to another city, and I held up pretty well that day because we stayed busy the whole time. I came home and then saw my friend, Michelle, who was in town for a couple of days. I thought I was good but then spent the next two or three days weeping in bed. The same thing happened a month or so later when I went out of town to see my friend perform in a concert. I had a great time, then cried half the drive home. It was like all these emotions would bottle up long enough for me to enjoy myself, then I’d be a wreck afterward. My counselor advised me to give myself the space to experience joy again. It took until probably the Fall before I could enjoy myself without falling apart afterward.

Who knew you could feel guilty for just existing? Maybe it’s some kind of twist on Survivor’s Remorse? Even now, I’m not sure I fully understand what I was feeling in those moments. I just thank God that I got through that time because it’s difficult not being able to enjoy life fully.

Feeling the Gaps

Once it sinks in that your loved one is gone, you start to see the gaps that are left in your life. My mother was a pretty selfless person, almost to a fault. She gave a lot to everyone. In fact, I recently found two $50 gift cards she gave me in 2021 that I had put away in a drawer. (I needed those. Good looking out, Ma!) That’s how giving she was. She tried to care for everyone else while sometimes neglecting her needs. When someone gives so much, the holes that they leave are huge.

My mom was probably the best cook on the planet. She could make anything, and everyone always came to get plates from her when they could. She made the most amazing pound cake that I’ve ever had. People used to literally eat the crumbs. I miss that. My sister cooks now from time to time. I can cook, but it’s not my favorite thing to do. I can’t rely on getting a plate from mama anymore, though, so I have to do it. I can’t rely on her to make me a hot toddy and fresh-squeezed orange juice when I’m sick. I can’t rely on her to look after my daddy. I can no longer rely on her to be a buffer in certain situations. I didn’t realize how much she protected me by just being here. I miss her killer one-liners. She was one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. Her whole side of the family is like that. That’s probably why I’m so silly. And my sister and dad are a lot alike, so now I’m mostly outnumbered in certain family decisions. And I have nobody to talk to about how annoying they can be. I love them, but gee willikers!

I even miss our bickering back and forth. My mom was a fiery Aries that loved pranks and riling people up. She’s probably one of the only people who has ever known how to really get under my skin. And to be honest, I think she enjoyed it sometimes. I can see her pearly white grin right now. Her smiling about it used to rile me up even more, lol! Now, I have nobody to have those moments with because nobody can get to me like that. Who knew you could miss arguing?! I definitely do, though.

Grieving the Future?

Many people try to relate to my loss, and I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s an added layer to this for me. I had a conversation with my aunts about how they felt when my grandmother passed away. And while grief is hard no matter the circumstances, my grandmother was 86 when she died. She lived to see her seven children flourish in their careers, have children, get married, retire from the military, and many other things. As someone who was a bit of a late bloomer, my mother will miss out on much of my life, which is really sad.

If I ever decide to get married, she won’t be there to tell me that my titties are hanging out of my dress or to argue with me about whatever outfit I would pick out for her. She won’t be able to see me reach the heights that I want in my career. I always dreamed of getting rich and giving my parents the life of their dreams, and she won’t be here for that. When those realizations started setting in, it felt like I had started the grief process all over again. I had to really take time to process those emotions because I didn’t want them to make me stagnant. I still have to live my life because I know that’s what she would want. I am appreciative of my tribe that pushes me to keep going. It’s important to have people around you that don’t let you sleep on yourself.

So not only am I grieving her loss, but I’m also grieving the future. Crazy, right?

What’s Going on Now?

The last year of my life has definitely tried me. It has been a true illustration of “When it rains, it pours.” I feel like so many things kind of fell apart after her passing. And I’m now in the process of trying to put myself back together. I don’t cry every day anymore, but I definitely still get triggered. I can now think of her fondly and laugh about some of the hilarious things she used to say. Grief has no timetable, and it doesn’t ever actually go away. I don’t believe there’s any magic moment where you “get over it.” You must rebuild your life around this new development, and I’m here to tell you that shit is hard. There’s no instruction manual on how to navigate through it because everyone’s experience is unique.

If I had any advice to give to someone in this situation, it’s to let yourself feel. Don’t try to busy yourself to avoid it, don’t bottle up your emotions, and don’t let anyone else tell you how your journey is supposed to look. Lean on your support system, pray, seek professional help if needed, practice self-care, and try hard to focus on the good times you had with your loved one. I won’t tell you it gets easier, but I will say you learn to live with it better each day. I am definitely not the woman I was before 3/9/2022, but I’m trying hard to make the new version even better than the one before.

I miss you, Ma! I pray that you’re resting well and watching over us. Love you endlessly! ❤️