“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6
The worst goodbyes are the ones we never get to say. I lost my grandpa a few years ago to kidney failure. He was the first person I have lost in my adult life that I have known “forever.” It was very hard on me. We knew it was coming for some time, and I drove down to see him and spend a long weekend with him, my Grandma, and my dad. We all were able to talk to him about his wishes to head on to Heaven and arrange hospice plans. It was bittersweet. There was comfort in knowing it was his time and he was ready to be with the Lord but also torture in walking out of the room for the last time. I knew I would not ever see or speak to him again.
Mom was such a different experience. Not even 60, a sudden stroke left her incompacitated. Even with surgery, she was never able to regain consciousness. She was able to squeeze my sister’s hand for the first 2 days and shed tears when the doctor explained to her and my sister what her ultimate fate was, but that was all.
The day before her stroke was the last time I was able to speak to my mom. I called her while at the hospital receiving my second treatment for my ectopic pregnancy. Her sister’s funeral was the next day. In those last 2 weeks, we had many conversations about death, life, and life after. Her sister had died just 2 days before Zechariah was discovered as an ectopic pregnancy. So, those last few weeks were not our happiest conversations, though we did talk more often than usual.
It was so effing hard. I had no idea how to be there for my mom in her grief when I needed her so desperately for mine – the loved rainbow baby with a heartbeat we had to send to Heaven without ever getting to hold. She was the only person to really help me forgive myself for the decision that had to be made for my health. She is the one who helped me turn back to God when I was so angry with Him.
And then… she was gone.
We had no warning. There was no prep time. By the time I got to the hospital a few days later to take her off life support with my sister and 2 of my mom’s siblings, she was likely already unaware. There was no time for her to say her last thoughts, her last goodbyes, or to know if she heard ours. That was almost 8 months ago, now.
Some moments my life feels like it’s finally coming together, other entire days pass where I fall apart all over again. Zechariah would have been due less than 2 weeks ago and my first birthday without my mom has come. How do you celebrate your first birthday without the woman who gave you your first birthday?
In the past 8 months, I’ve felt so many weird feelings. I have had small breaks from the loss where I felt joy and hope. I’ve thought I was moving on. I’ve though I might die of grief and anxiety. I’ve thought my heart would explode from my chest. So many memories of my life creep in and undo the therapy of my 20s, and I had reverted back to who I was then – on my own for the first time, starting college as a “free” young adult, bound by the traumas of my childhood.
In a way, losing my mom has been similar to those early college days, running far from home to start a new life. Only now, no loving mom to lend an ear to my late night emotional episodes and reel me in when I tread off the deep end. I know loss is different for everyone, even for 2 siblings losing the parent, and having confounding issues of regret, misunderstanding, and guilt only make it that much more confusing. But, wow, this is harder than I could have imagined.
I have so much to be thankful for, though. I have a husband who is trying so hard to be patient and supportive in my ups and downs. I have a sister who is going through this with me. I have amazing friends who check in and remind me of who I am outside of the fortress of isolation my grief has built around me. And I am fortunate to have a remote job, which largely protects me from having to worry about coworkers dropping in during a sob fest.
It is hard to find a positive ending to this post outside of my gratitude. I am taking this one day, sometimes just one moment, at a time. I know I am never alone. I have the armor of the Lord, and he is my refuge. Deuteronomy 31:6 reminds us “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.” And, that is mighty powerful. We are not alone in our challenges, and we are not left to get through it on our own.
I guess one of my motivations for writing and sharing this is to see where I will be on the other side – to be able to reflect back a year from now and see how I have changed and grown through the process of healing and continuing to embrace my faith. And, my hope is that it may be able to help others find hope and strength from my journeyas well.
So, stay tuned, and God bless.
Stephanie Brown
This Going HomeSteadily blog will be loaded with stories about how I am working to rebuild my faith, how we have survived repeated pregnancy loss and fertility complications, learning to live life without my mom, striving to dig ourselves out of massive student loan and multiple mortgage debt, sharing a full time home office, cultivating a home garden, relearning the Bible as an adult, exploring and planning for a homesteading future, and above all, actively choosing joy.
