The other day, they decided to put her on comfort care.
Hospice was called in.
I stood beside my husband, looking out the window and waiting.
I stared with tears in my eyes as we watched them come down the hall to pick her up.
I helped him gather his things to head to the truck.
As we approached the elevator, a knot grew in my stomach.
The doors shut, and we started descending to the lobby.
When those doors opened, I took a deep breath and stepped out.
Here I was again.
I took this exact walk in this exact hallway last year.
As we walked through the cold, white corridor, I thought, “WOW. I hate this walk.”
My head was hung because I knew what was coming soon.
My body was remembering how painful this is.
I don’t know if I have ever felt so lonely.
It was like the cold had somehow settled in my soul.
Today, we made the arrangements.
Preacher, times, flowers…
Worries about who is gonna get pissy…you know, ALL the stuff.
I have sat quietly, reflecting on the things that I have learned between these two solitary walks.
Fighting for it and letting go are both genuine acts of love.
Missing someone and continuing to carry that love with you is possible.
Just because they aren’t physically here doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate them.
I can be both understanding and mad at the same time.
Grief and stress are not an excuse to treat others badly.
It’s okay to not be okay.
There is a ton more, and I’m sure they will come to me at 1 a.m.
So today, with tears in my eyes but peace in my heart, I will be grateful for the sister-in-law who was one of my best friends.
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For as long as I can remember, I have been a lover of words, although I’m not sure why.
They say that it’s sticks and stones that hurt.
Pretty sure words have left the worst scars.
Broken bones finally heal at some point.
Words?
Yeah, they settle into the quiet spots. They’re the scabs that you pick at until the mark becomes permanent.
They echo randomly through the chambers of my mind in the middle of the night.
I remember things that were spoken to me as a child.
I remember things that were spoken to me as an adult.
I remember words that were different than actions.
I wish I had really realized their impact much sooner in life.
Why did it take me 40 years to realize that I let the words from very broken people break me?
I guess maybe I had to experience enough life to open my eyes.
My Momma always said, “Baby, take the high road, even when it hurts.”
I have always tried to live my life like that.
Somehow, now, it has taken on a new meaning.
I’m honestly not sure if she knew that eventually it would, or if this is how she meant it.
I sure wish I could ask her.
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This beautiful beast was gifted to me because I showed kindness to a creature I didn’t have to.
She was the neighbor’s dog. I named her Penelope.
I befriended her knowing I would eventually have to have her euthanized.
I cooked two meals a day for her for three months. The law said she had to be on my property when she was caught. Then she would be considered a nuisance and disposable.
She was neither of those things to me.
She was a kind spirit that the world had mishandled.
The tumor in her mouth was the size of a softball. You could smell death as she walked up for lunch.
It was one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my life.
I cried every day, but I faced the ugly truth.
My tears turned into her peace.
She is now buried behind my shed.
She didn’t get to live in peace, but my heart let her rest in peace.
Several months later…
Hank came into my life.
Same breed.
Same emaciated weight.
Years of love to give.
He is now getting old. He limps, and I know eventually I will have to say goodbye.
To be blessed with the unconditional love of this handsome beast has been an honor.
I will cherish him.
And when his time comes, I will carry his love with me. ♡
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When I started calling her Pig, it was more of a joke. I hadn’t planned on keeping her, or leaving her named that.
By the time I realized she WAS home, she knew her name.
Tonight, though?
Tonight she earned it!!
This is her repeatedly begging for more purple hull peas, collards, and jalapeño cornbread.NO REGRETS!!
At least not until tomorrow’s poo!
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A couple of weeks ago, I walked into a hospital to visit a loved one.
This was my first time back in a hospital since Momma. The woman at the check-in remembered me from the other hospital.
I managed to hold it together until i got on the floor talking to the Dr.
I was told that day that I would have to get past that because people would be in the hospital.
My response was, “I will do what is required of me when the time comes.”
Well, a couple of weeks later, the universe screamed,
IT’S TIIIIMMMEEE.
Two of the guards here recognized me when I walked in.
One hugged me.
The other asked, “Same person?”
I managed to choke out “No, my Momma passed last year. This is my sister-in-law.”Everyone within ear shot stopped and looked at me
She gave me a nod, a sad smile and said, “You were here. I’m sorry you’re here again, there are some people you just don’t forget.”
I smiled through tears and said, “that is bittersweet, thank you.”The tears continued as I traveled down the same corridor to the elevator. It stopped on the same floor. When the door opened I’m pretty sure I audibly gasped.
I stood for a minute looking down the hall remembering my last goodbye.
So here I sit, 465 days AFTER.
Same place, same broken heart.
Just a different goodbye
From the window, I see the room that I cried and begged God in.
It took me back to the actual moment that my heart changed forever.
The moment when my prayers went from miracle to mercy.
Those dark, quiet hospital hallways taught me what love actually meant to me.
Corporate America paints love with diamonds, chocolate, flowers, and $20K weddings.
They sell us a pretty lie, and we buy it!!!
What is love to me?Love is a hospital room.
Love is the word you barely choke out clarifying the decision that you make after the ugly truth is spoken!!
Love is standing on someone else’s choice, no matter how many pieces your heart breaks into.
Love is the prayer for mercy!!
My mind spun so hard today that I texted my sister.
She said, “What are you asking me?”
I wasn’t really sure then, but now I know I needed validation.
I needed her to let me know that she held no ill will for the choice that I had to make. I didn’t make it for me, I made it for Momma.
This time, in these halls, my opinion doesn’t matter.
My opinion is wrapped in the ugly truth that nobody wants to look at.
You can comfort someone with a pretty lie, but the ugly truth is the hill that I will stand on.
Today I fought again for another person that I loved.
I begged the heavens to let her know that I stood!!
I stood in the only way that I could.Soon, my circle will get just a little bit smaller.
I’m thankful that I understand sometimes letting go is the most genuine and unselfish picture of love.
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The husband asked me Friday what I wanted to do for my birthday.
I said, “Cake. All I want is cake.”
I was honestly in a funk about my birthday without Momma.
She celebrated me for 45 years and always made me feel special.
My son was coming in, and the husband was cranky. I just wanted quiet.
Last year was hard. She had just passed.
This year was harder!!
This year, I’m trying to figure out what the new normal looks like.
I couldn’t shake the funk for days.
As it was, my sister-in-law was rushed to the hospital via ambulance.
That obviously trumped everything.
My husband went to the hospital with his sister. I stayed home to wait for Blake.
Blake showed up with a little bouquet of flowers made from palm leaves.
He took me to dinner. We had a couple of drinks, went to Target, and then to Publix for the cake I wanted.
We got home around 10:00 p.m.
I still had to feed the dogs and Momma’s cat.
We got to Momma’s and heard a water leak. I wasn’t sure where the shutoff was, other than the main at the power pole.
I ran around trying to clean up the mess. Blake laughed and said he missed our adventures.
We ended the evening watching horror movies, like the old days.
This morning, I spoke to my husband on the phone. We were discussing his sister.
I told him I wanted to come see her.
He explained that he would prefer I didn’t.
She is in the same hospital, on the same floor where my Momma passed.
He knew how hard it would be for me.
I told him that I appreciated his concern, but I was going.
I know regret.
I know wanting one more minute.
I know I would never forgive myself.
So I went.
With tears in my eyes, I walked the same corridor, took the same elevator, and went to the same floor.
When the door opened, I was looking straight down the hall where I spent weeks crying.
I choked, but I did not break.
I rubbed my son’s back as we walked to her room.
I told her that I loved her and wanted her to stay.
Then I told her that I understood if she couldn’t.
Eerily similar to the words I spoke in a room 20 feet away, a year ago.
Today, trauma took a back seat to love.
Today, I proved to my mind how strong my heart is.
Tonight, my husband sits in the hospital with his big sister. My heart hurts because I know the feeling.
Tonight, I had birthday cake with Momma.
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Until tonight, I just THOUGHT that my family was dysfunctional!
Well, I guess this realization has been coming on, BUT…
My family web is very similar to my mental web.
Holidays, birthdays, and really any other function were a collection of people.
These were all people who weren’t perfect, but they were family. ♡
I grew up knowing my dad’s first baby momma and her daughter from another man. I spent weekends at my momma’s baby daddy’s sister’s house.
The logistics are confusing, but the love wasn’t!!!
Just because a family looks right to the world doesn’t mean they are right.
My life has been entangled in multiple situations of my own choosing.
I have been questioned and looked down on because of my family complexity. I have been told how strange it all was. I have been on the outside of judgment.
The epiphany tonight was:
I’m thankful for acceptance!!
My momma had a beautiful heart. My dad could be a dick!!
Somehow, they both taught me that family doesn’t always share the same blood.
Family isn’t expecting perfection, placing blame, or making excuses.
Family is who consistently shows up!!!
Tonight, I’m thankful that I finally understand what love is.
Love is a 3 a.m. phone call.
Love is, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
Love is a hospital stay.
Love is, “Call me when you get home.”
LOVE IS NOT:
Protecting someone’s feelings when they are wrong.
Shrinking yourself to fit a mold.
Abandoning someone because they aren’t perfect in your eyes.
Maybe my family was different, but maybe different actually showed me the true meaning of unconditional love.Maybe different is beautiful when you stop measuring against someone else’s “normal. “
Love is : building a bigger table!!
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So, the husband did what he does: “Hey, come look at this.”
Ugh. Let me stop what I’m doing AGAIN!!
I casually walked over to him, and upon looking, I not-so-casually screamed,
“OMG! WHY WOULD YOU CALL ME TO SEE THIS????”
He laughed as I handed him the camera.
My ass wasn’t about to get close enough to take a picture!!
So hopefully, this uninvited guest stays exactly where he was!!!
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Momma called me one morning and said there was a raccoon or something under her house.
Thought: Suuurrreee there is.
Words spoken: “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right over to check.”
She met me at the corner of the house and started explaining what she had heard.
Not gonna lie… I was amused. 🤣
I looked down just in time to see this tiny little pup sitting at my feet, looking up at me.
“OMG, where did YOU come from?” ❤️
I scooped her up and trotted off to my house to feed her.
Momma was glad it wasn’t a raccoon!
The husband was pissed because it WAS a puppy. 😆
I called the neighbors to check. Well, all except the one neighbor!!! That one is horrible!!!! Their dogs were always in my yard!!
I checked Mom’s trail cam and saw Momma Dog eating her deer corn. Sure enough, this baby was with her.
Unfortunately, it was their dog, and she had a litter of eight puppies.
Over the next couple of days, Momma Dog AND all eight puppies ended up in my yard!!!
The people neglect every dog they’ve ever had.
This baby was the runt. I had planned on finding her a home—other than mine—but here she is.And her name shall be Pig.
She actually snorts and grunts.
Almost three years later, here she is: a beautiful girl. ❤️
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If you look this word up, it gives you the definition, bullet points, and stages.
When you’re in the middle of it, being able to define it doesn’t help!!
I will admit that I have personally learned a lot from grief.
Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes quiet. Sometimes it’s bursting into tears walking into an Aldi because the first thing you see is a peach. Sometimes it’s not returning calls, or showering, or remembering to eat.
I know that every loss has a different impact, even in the same heart.
I was 7 when my Nana passed. I remember my Momma getting the phone call. I remember the look on her face and the wail that came out of her mouth.
I was 10 when my Ga passed. I remember exactly where I was standing and how my world changed after.
I was 33 when my best friend passed. I remember every moment passing in slow motion.
I was 35 when my Daddy passed. This one like to have killed me!!
Momma passed when I was 45. This one changed me forever!!
Each of these hit me in a very different way. They each held lessons that I am only now figuring out.
I was so young with Nana. I missed her, but didn’t fully understand.
My Ga, I was a little older. I remember being angry. I also watched my family fall apart and my dad completely unravel.
Diane was a range of emotions. She was my person!! The one I knew, when everyone else was gone, I would have her. Life has a funny way of changing plans.
When Dad passed, it was a completely different hole. He wasn’t perfect, but he was my protection. Where was I going to go for advice now?
Then there was Momma passing.
This was the first that wasn’t a phone call. This was a lot of sleepless nights in a hospital, trying to learn and make the right decisions, crying in the hallway, begging God not to take her.
This was a prayer for a miracle that turned into a prayer for mercy.
The room was quiet, with nobody there but my husband and I.
I had walked out to get sheets to make up that horrible little plastic couch thing for my husband.
When I walked back into the room, he was standing by her bed. He turned to look at me.
I said, “It’s time, huh?”
He quietly walked to the other side.
I grabbed her hand one last time, kissed her on the forehead, and told her it was okay to go home. I told her we would be okay.
I thought to myself, That was a lie!! I will never be okay.
At 11:00 p.m., she gently took her last breath.
When I could gather myself, I called my sister. My husband had gone to get the doctor.
I crawled into the bed, held her hand to my face, and sobbed.
People close to me have remarked that I have handled it better than expected.
With Dad, I handled it like he did his father… I drank a lot. I almost let it destroy me.
With Momma, I have cried and screamed. I have been mad, guilty, and empty. I have woken up with nightmares and not been able to go back to sleep. I have been an almost complete hermit.
Somewhere in the silent emptiness, I decided I wanted something different from this one. I started counseling, started really looking in the mirror, and started standing back up.
Grief is a very personal thing.
This time, I am letting it change me in a positive way. A way that would make my loved ones on the other side proud and will comfort the little girl inside of me.
