My Grief Experience

   The experience of grief became difficult but not strange when I lost my momma to Hurricane Wilma on October 24, 2005. She was killed while trying to escape her "home" and in doing so, was knocked down by falling debris. She suffered multiple rib fractures, contusions and lacerations all over her body . . . The autopsy listed the official cause of death as "Blunt Chest Trauma." I have endured the loss of other family members but none has affected me like this. When my sister called me at work, the day after the storm, and told me about momma, I felt like someone reached inside my chest and ripped my heart out.

   My family couldn't afford to bury her so it was left up to the county. We waited for 8 long days: trying to get help to bury her, waiting for the autopsy to be done so she could be laid to rest and we could have some sort of closure. The federal agencies offered us no assistance whatsoever. I felt disgusted because, in my eyes, she was being treated like a "Jane Doe", a number, just a body. She is SO much more than that. She was someone's child, sister, aunt, grandma, friend. She is a woman, a lady, and she is my momma. She wasn't a soul with a beautiful body - she was a body with a beautiful soul.

   I felt ashamed because I, along with my brothers and sisters, didn't have the financial resources to give her a more dignified burial, comparable to the meaning she gave to our lives. My faith tells me that the body is merely a vessel for the soul. When her body could no longer sustain life, her soul (the very essense of her life) continued on. I felt guilty because I had no choice but to wait for the funeral to be scheduled before making the trip to South Florida. My sisters dealt with the ugly details and I felt I failed momma by not doing my part. It sounds ridiculous and totally crazy but sometimes our emotions don't cast us in the most favorable light.

   Why does the box, containing her body, concern me at all? If I believed, "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord" then why was I (and still am) concerned whether she was laid to rest in a pretty, cushioned box or the cold, hard container I saw before me? That image still haunts me today and will for the rest of my life and I can't fully explain or understand why.

   I stood at the gravesite trying to be strong for my sons, telling them to be strong for each other. I was trying to be strong for my younger sister and her children. My sister saw Momma's body shortly after she died and before the authorities removed her body from the scene and I'm sure that image will remain with her forever. I tried to grieve in silence for a lot of reasons by pretending that my faith was stronger than my grief. But I'm only human and my grief shouted much louder than my faith, its "voice" reaching through to the deepest part of my soul. Feelings of anger and the need to blame immediately set in.

   I was angry at Momma for not leaving when she had the chance. Hurricane Wilma hit on Monday, October 24, 2005 at approximately 7:20am. My younger sister called Momma the night before and at 6am the following morning, trying to get her to leave and stay with her or go to a shelter. Momma refused, opting to stay put in that little room she called "home." The room basically consisted of a twin bed, a mobile closet and a refrigerator. To this day, I can't understand what was so important to her, what made her decide to stay and ultimately die for as a result.

   I'm angry because I constantly think of how she must have been feeling when she finally decided it was too dangerous to stay. Was she scared? Definitely! Was she terrified? No doubt! What went through her mind when the roof and walls "exploded", sending debris flying, knocking her to the ground? I think of things like how many minutes did she lay on the ground before she died. I wonder, in the minutes before her death, as everything started falling apart, if she realized that she was going to die. I sometimes think she'd still be alive today if I had been in closer contact with her. If I knew the storm was headed her way, I would have begged her with EVERYTHING within me, to leave. I would have gotten down on my knees, cried and yelled (if necessary) to change her mind.

   I was also angry with God and I blamed Him for "allowing" this to happen. In my mind, He had the power to stop this and didn't. I blamed Him and He forgave me! Isn't that something???!!! I still need a lot of forgiveness because my faith isn't nearly as strong as it should be. Even though I know Momma is in Heaven, I still have an anger in me that won't go away. I still have immense feelings of guilt and even though God has forgiven my doubt in Him, I still need to forgive myself. I don't know how to do that.

   Confusion, doubt, anger, blame, revenge, guilt, weakness, unforgiveness, resentment, regret and depression resided in my heart long before any hint of acceptance did. It's a barrier, an emotional brick wall I've built and to break through that wall is sort of like invalidating my emotions throughout this entire ordeal. Experts say this is normal but it doesn't feel normal. It doesn't seem normal to want to die so you'll stop missing your loved one. It doesn't seem normal to feel as though your life no longer has a purpose. Most of these life-taking emotions are still inside of me and it is a daily battle to overcome them, a battle I'm determined to win because no matter how many times I fail - God is still on my side!

   I miss my Momma every day. I can pray to God and talk to Momma and even though she's in Heaven, it is not enough. There are lots of times when I need to "hear" her with my eyes and not my heart. When I cry, it is her arms I want around me. When my younger son experiences the effects of puberty, I want to run and tell her and it is her laughter I want my ears to hear. Whenever I have a need, a joy or a sadness, I need her in the physical NOT in the spiritual. I need her to hug my body not just my soul. some people say that, "Time heals all wounds" but for me, it simply isn't true. It has taken away the shock but not the guilt or the pain.

   Jesus said He'd never leave me and He hasn't. I'm the one that turned away from Him. He NEVER promised that this life would be one without trials. He said this life is only temporary. Reality happens, loved ones die, but life goes on. Reality hit me in the face and jerked me out of my fantasy that Momma would always be there. The reality is: her earthly body served its purpose and in Heaven, she would get a new one: one without pain, fear or disease. Knowing this should bring me some measure of comfort, and it has, but I often feel life a fragile vase, teetering on the edge, in danger of shattering at the slightest bump.

   The reality of grief and the pain is that it can become a crutch - an excuse to feel miserable. I am certainly guilty of this. For some, depression can set in and and holidays are no longer a time of joy (guilty, AGAIN). There is no time limit on grief. There is no manual on how a person is supposed to live their life while feeling like life is slowly slipping away. Talking about it helps but not everyone is fortunate to have a strong support system or the ability to cope.

   These are the ways in which we are different. But I believe we all experience the same emotions (not necessarily in the same order) and we all come away from our experience, changed in one way or another. We have to reach inside ourselves and decide if our experience is going to make us better or bitter. Will it help to scream or hide from the world when the pressures of this life get too heavy? Maybe. Will it help to carry around the guilt and shame until I feel as though I've done right by her, in a strange way of thinking - like my debt has been paid? No. Will it help to pray? Most definitely!!! There is power in prayer, even if the only words we can manage to utter is, "HELP!!!"

   I have been changed in many ways. I've gained a new "respect" for the power of hurricanes. It can happen to any family - it happened to mine!!! It's no longer a channel on the TV or a page of the newspaper that can be turned. I'm changed because I realize that people truly do care. I'm changed because I try not to take people for granted and I realize that the time to tell them how much I care is NOW not LATER! The feeling of regret is a horrible thing, family is important and tomorrow may never come.

   I'm changed because I know, without a doubt, that my life does have a purpose. I believe my purpose is to inspire others with my words or the words of others. I believe, with all my heart, that the most important detail of my purpose is not to ask what God can do for me but what I can do for Him.

   I thank God, my family and my friends for seeing me through this long and most difficult journey. The road from blame to thanks has been a long one and it is a journey I'm still on, one that I don't have to walk alone. I look forward to the glorious end of my journey while being so very grateful for each day in this life.

   Jesus said to "give thanks in all things" NOT for all things. Let's face it, some days are much toucher than others, but with God, ALL THINGS are possible!!!!!!!!

(this was written about 3 years after my mom died in the storm)