July 6, 2018
Momma….it’s been 90 days!! 90 whole days! The last 90 days have been a roller coaster ride of emotions and experiences. During the first couple of weeks, I barely slept and lacked the motivation and strength to do anything. I don’t even remember my first week back at work after your home going service. I only recall praying for the strength to get out of bed and get dressed. The rest of the days are a blur. I realize now that I stopped living during the first couple of weeks…I was merely existing.
In actuality, I was walking around in a perpetual fog for at least the first 45 days. My attention span wasn’t short; it was almost nonexistent. I found myself asking people to repeat themselves because I was having trouble focusing on what they were saying. I would sit and stare off into space…futilely trying to get my mind to grasp this new reality. I would be driving and forget where I was going. I can’t count the number of times I blew past my exit on the Beltway. I felt like I was losing my mind. My counselor explained that this “fog” was my brain’s way of helping me cope with your loss. Because your loss was so significant, my mind was consumed with disbelief and the struggle to accept this new reality. Therefore, this “fog” was my brain’s way of recovering from the trauma of your loss and was, in essence, preventing me from losing my mind.
We all miss you so much and have been doing our best to cope without you here. Jason picked up the phone to call you on Mother’s Day. At Tavion’s graduation, Zaz turned around to look for you when the family was taking pictures after the ceremony. “Where’s Ma?” were the words that escaped from her lips before her soul processed the painful reality that you’re no longer here. My Mom still rides out to your house after work some days. She desperately wants to walk in the house and see you sitting there on the sofa as she was accustomed to doing every day after work. Momma, Dee is doing her best to keep us all connected; but doing so without you here is literally breaking her heart. Dee and I have already started talking about Thanksgiving. We’re going to make sure we put it down in the kitchen just like you taught us!! We’re determined to keep the family together and make you proud.
Momma, the outpouring of love and support shown after your passing spoke to the caliber of woman you were and the positive impact that you had on the community and in the lives of others. However, at 90 days, the calls have stopped and there are no more knocks on the door. It is now that intentionally choosing to embark on the journey of healing is more important than ever.
Because I have opened myself up to the healing process and am allowing grief to do what it came to do, I am a bit more focused at 90 days. My heart still hurts but I’m continually creating space to process my emotions. I find peace in the memories I hold dear in my heart. And when I feel like crying, I cry….as long and as hard as I want to. I still don’t sleep through the night most days; but it’s getting better. I’m slowly finding my way out of the darkness that enshrouded me after you took your last breath. Momma, at 90 Days, I’m no longer just existing. I’m starting to live again…