Six years without you…

October 7^th 2024 marks six years without you. 

How am I doing? 

I ask that of myself for no one else will. Grief from death is fearful to acknowledge especially for those who have not gone through it.  It’s a reminder of our final destination. Grief and I will live together for the rest of my life. The death of my mom and dad  stripped my identity and left me an orphan. I am blood red raw with a layer of unstable scabbing that rips off and grows back.  Time after time.  

I planned to puts words on paper about your passing but you know, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans” (John Lennon). Now six years have passed. I thought snippets from journals and scraps of paper about your passing would be the best way to honour you.

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“It has been said, “Time heals all wounds”. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind protecting its sanity covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”-Rose Kennedy

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The pain was raw, bloody and fragile after you passed. The night before I pleaded with you to let go. Everything would be okay. Lies are sometimes used to protect. Six years later and I’m still not okay. Your body was abusing you, draining waste from fissures into a bag. Starvation and dehydration added to your suffering . Protection from me to you was monitoring the iv fluids, draining the bag and giving you morphine drops which dulled the pain and left you comatose. I will forever blame the doctors for the obstruction surgery and myself for administering the morphine.

15 de Octubre 2018

I was in the next room and knew you passed from the sound of your oxygen machine. The inhalation sound had ceased. You drew your last breath and I was not there to hold your hand. I felt your back and it was cold. I listened for your heart and heard nothing. I, myself, me with you always. You passed on at 2:15am. 

You are at peace…finally. 

No muscle spasms, no stomach pains.

I facilitate between anger, grief and severe depression. Grief is selfish and self-serving. You were not to leave me behind. This journey was yours and not my place to intrude. 

19^th de Octubre 2018

Dreading speaking with a sibling who as a child slapped your face. Karma is a mutha for she got that slap back later in life. You are lucky for your physical space. Away from Berkeley Place. I live in the house you built with self-determination.  The house I came to after I made my entrance into the world at the Brooklyn Jewish Hospital. It was a snowy day perfect for a Capricorn goat to begin climbing.  You left the home solely to  me as I along with you held the house in the most sentimental pedalstal. And as you wanted, it was sold and I moved to another city. You are sometimes here, hugging me or sitting next to me, giving off the scent of lilies when I have none in the house. I miss you my butterfly. Please don’t fly up so far but if you do, remember to visit from time to time. 

I, myself and me, clearing out your apartment

Miss you so much and feel bad for throwing out your sentimental stuff.
No one to share your memories with. I miss the scent of food floating from your kitchen.
*Mom, my mom sang this to me whenever I said, “I don’t have time!”
“Time waits for no one. It passes you by. It goes on forever like a bird in the sky.

24^th de Noviembre 2018

Five things that immediately brings a smile 

1. Mom’s unconditional love
2. Fur animals unconditional love
3. Episcopal Church before mom passed on
4. Completing a long run
5. Self-care/Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder

26^th de Noviembre 2018

First Thanksgiving without you confirmed my feelings towards siblings and their lack of compassion, humility and empathy. The night before, no phone call…nothing, nada. There is a reason to be angry, hurt, frustrated all in hurricane level mode. But within the pain there is clarity and you pointing the direction I should go. My adoptive niece from Boston came to spend the holiday with me. Important lesson-family does not have to be blood related. 

*Mom’s nickname was Seymour. A name she laughed at and was furious with me when I yelled “Seymour!” in the grocery store. Of course, peeps would stare at me and then my mom, some hiding laughs at the name. I’ll always hold dear your reaction when I yelled “Ma” when you wandered away while shopping. Peeps would stare and you’d say, “I refuse to answer you” which you did while responding. Macy’s at 34^th was our favourite playground. Godiva bought and eaten before we left the store, frozen yogurt and shopping for food goodies in the cellar. You made shopping an artform! Food was your superpower!! You loved to cook for others and poured your soul into it. Church was always grateful for your Saturday after mass dinner.  

4^th de Deciembre 2018

Mom-Don’t know what I’m doing or rather do not feel comfortable handling house repairs. You were here this morning and I’d like to think you were hovering over me. I need your strength and patience. Mom your unconditional love will always be here. Miss you round the world and back butterfly. Fly upwards, downwards, round and round spreading magic golden dust from your flappy wings. 

5^th de Deciembre 2018

-Scent of lilies in the 2^nd floor dining room
-Scent of lilies in mom’s bedroom
-Lily Stickers
-Jamaican worker
-Butterfly tattoo
-Poem of loss left by stranger at our doorstep

9^th de Deciembre 2018

Reached out to sibling and daughter regarding bringing your clothes to the Salvation Army.

-sibling’s daughter who saw you once or twice a year, never called you and, did not visit but could not go through driving to the Salvation Army. I wonder why she is upset now that you’re dead. Why is the sibling’s daughter upset?

-sibling suggested throw out your clothes. Too lazy or better yet, couldn’t be bothered driving to the Salvation Army, but eventually did. 

-I, identified your body prior to cremation. I, as that sibling and her daughter sat upstairs, refusing to accompany me. You were on a tray pulled out from a wall. So cold, were you. You always disliked being cold and here you were entombed in coldness. I kissed you and touched your check. I asked the funeral person if they had your flannel shirt. The flannel shirt you passed on in. The flannel shirt, one sleeve cut down the middle to allow your fluid line to work. The funeral person said they were not allowed to give that back, but after he saw me crying, he gave it to me in a plastic bag.

-these siblings are not my family. Only blood ties us. Not my circus and definitely not my monkees.

-went through my colonoscopy alone. None were available to escort me after. Sibling calls the day after procedure not to inquire how it went but to hear if Dr Crawford said anything about you.

“You know she’s not only your mother”, said eldest sibling to me.
“Um…yes she is”, I said.

This family is shit.

I don’t like Octubre.

25^th de Deciembre 2018

Christmas day and you are not here. You are free and I hope you are flying to amazing places. I love you, Butterfly. Round the world and back.

August 3^rd 2019

( A post from a stranger on a grief website responding to the tiny sparks of life I felt were not deserved)

“I think we all struggle with that unreasonable guilt, Elena, and it is unreasonable, isn’t it? Certainly, my Dad who loved me so well my entire life would want me to live whole and free, right? Of course he would. It’s just all part of this gut-wrenching process we all have to suffer through. Be thankful for those sparks. Fan them into flame. Live that life to honor your loved one but more for yourself and the world who needs your particular gifts.” 

Words on your passing from strangers who do not know us brings the greatest comfort Mom, my mom.