The "Third-Person" Pieces 3: Death

In college, Holly had a crush on a boy that just recently died of congestive heart failure, and she has taken this harder than expected. It's not like he's the first person she has known to die. On the contrary, her life has been a literal parade of death since her mid 20s. The issue is that Holly has become old enough to understand that 40 isn't old, and is always sad to hear that a young person has gone to glory. There is also something particularly devastating about dying in middle age that she just can't put her finger on. 

Holly secretly believes in parallel and other worlds as well as astral projection. With this being said, she wonders if she could clear her mind then travel to an outer space to ask her deceased college peer what death is like and to reveal any secrets that could help her on Earth. Weird people online that don't comb their hair and wear jingly bracelets say that this is possible. She guesses it would make more sense to visit her mom or grandma, but they'd be irritated she made the trip. What if she couldn't get back home? 

B- Day

Yesterday was my mom's birthday and I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I didn't even mourn her like I usually do on this day. I tried to keep myself busy. We didn't do cake this year. I've been feeling so overwhelmed that I didn't even remember to get a cake. 

My good girlfriend texted me that her dad is dying. I feel badly for her because I know the anvil of pain that is about to fall on her head. It's going to feel unbearable and there is no way to prep her. Dizzle's mom and grandma died and I watched her go through it, and even seeing her devastated did nothing to ease the specific devastation that was coming for me. It's just something you have to feel, there is no way around it. 

A guy I went to college with just got married and had a baby. The baby many be an only child and will have to deal with this loss twice on her own. I don't think people consider that enough before they have kids, which is cruel. 

Anyway, happy b-day Mommy. 

For Whom The Bell Tolls

The theme for yesterday was death for 500, Alex. 

In the morning, I found out that my grandma's favorite and one of her few surviving cousins had died. Later in the day, I discovered that one of my beloved Xavier brothers had died. I also had a lengthy conversation with P about the afterlife. It was brutal. Brutal and heavy. 

As a Muslim, he feels like Christians don't think enough about the afterlife, while Muslims live with the afterlife at the forefront of their minds. I don't find this to be true, at least not at my church. There is plenty of talk about going to Heaven and the proper way to get there. This is especially troubling for me, seeing that I like to think about death and the journey after the way it was described to me as a child. We all have to die, but we die to go see Jesus, who lives in Heaven. Heaven is a beautiful place, and when you get there, you will get to see everyone who died before you. There was no talk of Hell, sin, or unbearable heat. There was only talk of a beautiful place to chill with your elders once your time is up. 

I prayed that both my grand-cousin and Xavier brother made it to Heaven. I am choosing to believe that they are now surrounded by the love of God and not oven-roasting to the soundtrack of eternal screams. The world, especially today, has a way of bombarding you with bad news and fears and disappointments and horrors. With that being said, is it so bad to want to believe that we all will one day be with God in an amazing paradise? How are we supposed to understand the stresses of the day while reconciling with the idea that we may also be going to Hell? How can we be present in the day if we are afraid of burning alive tomorrow?

I'm not sure, but according to P, we'd better figure it out because judgment starts at the moment of death. The very second our life ends, the trial starts. I cringe at the idea of having to explain to God why I have done some of the dumb stuff that I have done when there was a published book of His wishes available that I ignored. Yeah, I am going to stick with the Sunday school version of Heaven for myself and for the people I know who have passed on. I don't think I have the bandwidth to accept any of the other alternatives. 

Death

I have been thinking a lot about death lately. I have been thinking about death, about how I am going to die, about when I am going to die, about where I am going to die, etc. I have found myself thinking about my family members who have died and my memories with them; my great-grandma, my grandma, my mom, etc. I have also been thinking about my friends who have died. Just this morning, I found myself crying (again) over a man I went to elementary school with. I had such a crush on him in the 1st grade. He was a sweet boy. A year or two ago, he died of a heart attack. A man who ran road races died of a heart attack, can you believe it? I am taking note of these feelings just in case preoccupation with death is a sign that you are about to die. I do believe that there are signs that people experience, but they do not document them because they do not consider them signs or did, but never got around to chronicling them. 

Have you been keeping up with 3i Atlas, the "comet" that is making its way through the solar system from a different star system? Some people believe it is an alien mothership from somewhere deep inside the cosmos. Something about it has caused me to ponder where we go when we die. Didn't Einstein or someone say that our energies never die? Is that energy what we would consider our souls? Do they go to heaven, or do they just float around or end up in space or something? I have seen videos on Instagram of Teslas at graveyards. Apparently, their GPS systems are so sensitive that they pick up ghosts on their cameras as if they are people to make sure that you don't hit. Are those the energies of the people six feet under? I think about these things. 

Perhaps these are just the thoughts that begin to creep into your mind more frequently when you are in your 40s. A boy I went to college with just had a baby with his wife, and I found myself wondering if they were scared that they were going to die. I mean, it's kind of late to be having your first child, isn't it? They will be in their 60s when their daughter graduates college, you know...if they don't die first. I guess they aren't worried about it. They seem pretty happy. 

I am wise enough to know that your death is much like the end of the world; no man knows that time nor the hour. I guess the best we can do is prepare for it is by living a life that is to die for. 

Mommy

I've been missing my mommy of late. I always miss her, but lately, I have been longing to talk to her so badly. 

Oddly enough, talking to her when she was alive could irritate me like no other. She was always giving me unasked for advice which drove me up the wall! But I was also just getting to know her. We butted heads my whole childhood because I didn't like her mooching leech of a boyfriend. As a young adult, I no longer had to see her deal with him, which left room for us to acquaint ourselves with each other. Now she's gone and I find myself needing to talk to her.

If she had not been cremated, I'd totally be advocating for a Pet Cemetery situation just so we could chat before she'd try to kill me. In this case, I'm sad this is not a scene from a Stephen King fantasy. I no longer wish to be sad. Time for bed. 

Youth pt. 2

It feels like me and the women in my life turned 39, the universe was alerted, and she sent us an array of crap. The whole thing has me thinking about the meaning of youth. 

As you know, 39 brought me endometrial polyps I had to have plucked out. That was emotional and incredibly stressful for a woman whose anxiety is already so naturally high that I could shoot to the moon on it. A college friend told me that she has already had her mammogram, something that should be set for next year, because our good friend's wife was diagnosed with breast cancer at 39. 

For some of my other girlfriends, the race to have a baby has never been so real, especially for my uncoupled friends that have to weigh waiting for a man with getting a donor. Today, my 39-year-old doctor friend died in hospice care from a disease she wasn't even old enough to get screened for! 

Is the universe trying to tell me and my soon-to-be middle-aged friends to cherish life and your health because you never know what trick life is going to pull out of its hat? Okay! Message received. Now can you please keep all my girls well and alive?

It doesn't work like that. 

When I was a kid, I'd hear my grandma on the phone giving and receiving updates on sick friends and friends who had passed. The whole thing would go over my head, now it's at my feet. For lack of a better word, it's scary. 

Is this to be life from now on? Scared for my wellbeing and that of those I love? I guess this is yet another disgusting part of adulting. My grandma would tell me to pray. I think I will. 

The Flo Jo Theory

 As I have told you all before, I am ASTOUNDED that I am not one of those people who is completely unphased by death. I spent my childhood handing out with my old grandma and her old friends at a senior independent living facility. Someone she knew was always dying. And it was never really a sad occasion. Grandma and her friends would hear the news about someone who died in their sleep or had a heart attack, and they'd shake their heads, talk about what a shame that was, and go back to their ceramics. Being in that environment, I was completely death-jaded. It just felt like something you did, like picking up groceries or washing your clothes. 

Now, as I slide into middle age, I feel like I am as mature about death as I should have been then. When the avalanche of death hit my family, I was confused and irritated as if death was yet another subscription service that I didn't want to be a part of but was enrolled in. Yet as we know, death is not Hello Fresh, it's a scary, inevitable thing. 

That brings me to Ms. Nadine. She was a 40-something year old woman who attended my church. I e-met her during the pandemic when we were all going to church via Zoom. She was in my prayer group and was a very nice, perky lady. She was a mother and a caregiver to her mother who had Alzheimer's. And this woman had a heart for God. The joy she had after she got baptized. Let me tell you, you could feel the sunshine in her eyes through the computer screen. There was no way you could tell that she was in horrible, excruciating pain, but she was. One minute, she mentioned that she had bad stomach pains during a prayer call. Soon after that, I prayed with her about it in the wee hours of the morning. She was in so much pain, she couldn't sleep. Soon after that, she found out that she had stomach cancer that was spreading. We all prayed for her. She prayed on her own. Her family prayed. She died a couple of weeks ago. 

She was in a lot of pain after a long time of chemo treatments. The last time I saw her was Easter, and she had lost so much weight that I didn't immediately recognize her. Look, I get that people die. That I will die. That the people I love will die. But what I can't wrap my mind around is the attitude about death that the Christians in my life have. 

"I just called to tell you that Ms. Nadine has lost the race," my spiritual mentor told me. I honest to God didn't know what she was talking about. Then at church during a dedication the prayer group put together, the attitude was that she had now won the race because she was Jesus. It took everything I had not to boo my minister. Won the race? I think that Ms. Nadine would have liked to be healthy and alive to live and spend more time with her family, not pulling a Flo Jo in an imaginary sprint! I mean, what is wrong with people?! 

I am having hard time with people. Ms. Nadine was a sweetheart who is dead. Meanwhile, there is some pedophile serial killer out there on a beach vaykay and living his best life. It seems to get more confusing for me with each death of a loved one that I experience. I am not sure what to do. I guess I should keep a bag packed with sweats and a pair of Nikes, just in case I myself have to make a spiritual run for it. 

Loss

I guess I am lucky. When I was growing up, I had a lot of women that dropped bars into my life as to how to conduct myself as a young woman. A teacher in middle school, Ms. Ross, told me to never leave home without a pantyliner in my purse. My grandma told me that clear nail polish stops runs in your stockings. My middle school bus driver told me that hand soap from the soap dispenser in the ladies room can double as a deodorant if you put it under your arms, and my mom told me that table salt gets period blood out of your underwear. One of the editors at Upscale Magazine, where I interned after college, told me that potato chips and sugary snacks will give you parasites. All facts. However, while all these priceless pieces of information were being dished out, no one told me how to deal with loss. Inevitable, random loss. Someone dying in your life is way more plausible then you randomly needing a pantyliner. It is guaranteed! Yet no one said a peep.
Over the past two years, my grandma has died, my mom has died and my ex-boyfriend from high school has died. Most recently, one of my BESTEST friends from college died, and I just feel ill-equipped as to how to deal with all of this loss emotionally. I find myself trying to sleep off the shock and hurt of it all, but how long of a nap do you have to take to get over the fact that there are people you've loved your life that are never coming back?
And it is not just death. I have also been mourning some of my friendships of late. People have friend-dumped me with no explanation, leaving just as big of a hole in my life as those people I loved that are now six feet under.
Perhaps the elders in my life didn't tell me how to deal with loss because it is almost impossible to put into words. Maybe they didn't tell me because they knew that grieving differs for everyone; what worked for them may not work for me. Either way, I don't have tools. Let's just file this under that grownup stuff that no one wants to address like heartbreak or student load debt. Man, if only dealing with loss could be as easy as cleaning period panties.

The Grieving Posts 4: The Jesus Piece

The other day I woke up feeling particularly upset about my mom, so I rolled over and texted P. It was very, very early and since he is a nurse that works those crazy nurse hours, I knew he was awake. I vomited all my emotions about everything in this text that was very long, and his response was simply, "You need to pray to Allah." Ugh! With his devout Muslim self. I should have known that was going to be his response.
For some reason, I was taken back to earlier last year when I talked to my friend Gail. She had been through it over the past few years. I am talking bad relationships, car repossessions, lost jobs, etc. When she called me, it sounded like the sun was finally coming out in her life. Seeing that she has always been a Super Christian, I said, "Don't forget to thank God for seeing you through." That is when she dropped a bomb on me: she is now practicing Santeria.
I wanted to be respectful of what she had just said, but I was still like, "What?!" This is a girl that was so God-fearing that she was afraid to do anything! She had once given me a stern talking to because I had told her I had had a conversation with some Mormons. Now she's gettin' Babalawo with it? It didn't make any sense. So, she went on to explain why she was beginning to practice and it all boiled down to her wanting to feel in control of her destiny and not wanting to feel like she was just a pawn at God's will. I understood what she was saying, but it also sounded like she was mad a God.
Yes, I lost my mom, but I'm not mad at God. I understand that as hurtful as this all is, it is all part of the cycle of life. However, I also do not feel like praying as P suggested either because I know that God knows what is going on. I have always felt connected to Him, so I also know that he knows how I am feeling. I am still praying to God for a good job. I am still praying for more money. I am still praying for a better hairstyle for my facial shape and a one-term Trump presidency, but for some reason, I just can't pray on my mom or anything that has to do with her.When the doctors came into the waiting area and told us that she had died, I prayed that He would let her into Heaven. Maybe that was all the conversation that He and I needed to have. Who knows? I'm no theologian, just a girl trying to deal.

The Grieving Posts 3: Men and Mourning

I never wanted to be that woman who felt like she needed a man. Let me just say ladies, you don't know how much you need one until someone close to you dies. I realized this at my grandmother's funeral earlier last year. After the ceremony, my uncle cursed me out for no reason while my other uncle just sat there with his ankles crossed like nothing was happening. It was then that I realized it would have been great if I'd had a beau to beat the crap out of both of them.

Now on to my mother's passing. As I wrote my thank you cards, helped plan her wake, and waded through all the family stuff that comes with the passing of a parent, all I could think of was how much I wished I had a man in my life to hug me through all of it. I was surrounded by my mourning siblings and my aunt and other women that cared for me and that were providing me with love and support. Didn't matter. All I wanted was a strong hug from a strong man. I know. I'm pathetic. 

The funny thing is that I was talking to someone at the time. We had only been talking for a second when this happened, so I didn't want to come off as too needy. A parent passing is a huge thing to deal with when you first meet someone. So I simply asked him if he minded coming over to give me a hug. He said he wasn't coming over unless I could promise him sex. Needless to say, I ended up hugging myself to sleep. #whataloser

So when my homecoming came I want you to believe me when I tell you that I was collecting man hugs from my old classmates like they were going out of style. And no, that that was not enough. Man hugs are like Pringles: you can't have just one. 

"I know what you mean," Dizzle said when I told her how I was feeling. "Sometimes you just want to be held."

"Yeah, but I feel bad because the women in my life give me so much support and love that it could literally lift me off the ground," I whined, lying across the hotel room bed. 

"It's not the same," she said. She was right. It's not. 

So now we are six months in and still, no hugs. I actually hurt my shoulder trying to give myself a bear hug about three months ago. I feel like a woman with strength of character would use this time to exercise or learn to cook or pray or do something productive. I'm yearning for a hug from a man I don't have. It's so sad I almost hate to write it. But don't worry. In writing these posts, I am trying to take control of the wheel and turn things around. I mean, I was very close to picking up a Steve Harvey book the other day and, I think that we can all agree that, once that happens, I can throw in the towel. #toostressedtothinklikeaman

The Grieving Posts 2: Fair Weather Friends

Most of you were here for me when I lost my job and got tossed out of my apartment like a dingy dishrag. If not, believe me when I tell you that it was ugly. I was the DEFINITION of a struggling friend. I was financially and emotionally needy, and, as expected, some of my "friends" found this to be the perfect time to bid their adieu to our friendship. And I totally got it! If a stack of past due bills hadn't been blocking my path to the door, I would have walked out on myself! It was a rough time but, believe it or not, my mom dying has caused more friends to walk out on me than my needing to borrow $20!
The one that hurts the most is a friend that I had had since college. We had spent hours on the phone over the years listening to our dramas and encouraging each other; crying over boys and praying. I mean, I really felt that we knew each other's hearts and we were genuinely there for each other. Honey, I told that girl that my mom died and I have not heard from her in six months. Six. Months. She straight ghosted on a sistah! And she isn't the only friend that has done this.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news but here is the long and short of it: someone close to you is going to die at some point. And when this happens, you are going to be very hurt when your "friends" leave you hanging. But I want you to know now what it has taken me six months to understand: death scares people. People don't want to say it or think about it or address it at all! They almost feel like if they console you, they will be acknowledging that it exists and, within minutes, the Grim Reaper will be knocking on their door. They may treat you like your have coodies, but don't be upset. They are as freaked and dumbfounded as you have been in the past when people you knew lost loved ones. However, you can be hurt, just as you have been the other times you have gotten dumped.

The Grieving Posts 1: Mood Swings

I have been having some major mood swings lately. As my true readers know, I am not that emotionally stable as it is. I am assuming that all of this is connected to the fact that my mom died in August and I have not even begun to deal with it. I am pretty much refusing to cry and acting like everything is business as usual. I am fully aware that this is not healthy, but I decided that this was the best way to proceed when I woke up the day after she died and realized that the world had had the nerve to go on.
Not long after her death, I reached out to a friend of mine who is a shrink. I hit her up about what I have been experiencing and the mental health fat that she gave me to chew on was the equivalent of you can't out pizza The Hut. 😕You would be giving me the same face if you knew the HOURS of advice I have poured into this girl since I was 19. Here is my advice to you: make your core strong, so when shit happens, you can look within yourself and self-soothe. As you well know, my core is about as strong as damp Ramen noodles, so I'm screwed.
I don't know if you have experienced the passing of a parent, but I will explain to you how it feels to me: like I have forgotten something. Like I left something. Like I can't find something. It dawned on me recently that this must be what true incompleteness feels like. Is this going to be the way that I am going to feel the rest of my life? Like something is missing?
I don't know. For now, my moods are just 'a swingin'. I have flashes of sadness mixed with long periods of tiredness and irritation. I have great anxiety when it comes to me having to leave my house. I don't know what that's about.
Sadly, I am fully aware that this is just the beginning. This sucks because I am about at the end of my last good nerve.

Solange Said Let It Go

Earlier this year I lost a good friend. He went into the hospital and didn't come out. He died in less than a week, and when I got the call that he died, it was like someone had pushed the reset button on my mind.
Self-awareness moment: I can be a lot; dramatic, extra, petty, etc. These are things I have always wanted to change about myself, but that I had talked myself into believing were the quirky things about my personality that made me special so I wouldn't have to do the work. In reality, they have been the chains around my ankles preventing me from elevating.
The connection: the passing of my friend made this fact come to the surface as something I need to deal with, now. On top of this, I need to take a hard look at my friendships.
I consider myself a good friend but again, if we are talking honestly here, I can be a lot. I need a shoulder to cry on a lot for some friends, and for others, I am not their shoulder enough. I hold on to people who I know could care less, while I fight for those that I know I have outgrown or vise versa. This became very clear when I lost a friend who was a huge part of my life and development that I hadn't talked to in ages, more focused on people who could give two shits.
I'm upset with myself about this, but Solange said let it go. I'm working on it.
Every year I make resolutions that I don't follow through on. This makes me feel bad about myself, so I decided not to do any this year. However, if I had to have one, it would be to have the strength to let go of friendships that have run their course and be content with the good memories the friendship brought me. On the other end, I have to be cool with people letting go of me. This could end with me having no one to my left or right, and I'd have to be cool with that, even though it's scary.
This will be VERY hard for me, but I feel that if this is successful, I will feel lighter. I will keep you updated.

Loss

My younger cousin died yesterday morning.
He was fine the day before and then, yesterday, he stopped breathing.
Just weeks after my family buried my grand uncle, my cousin passed.
They say I am an adult, but it doesn't matter how old you are. You never get used to loss. It just hurts every time.

3s

I was informed the other night that my great uncle died. Just a few months ago, another great uncle died. I was not super close to either uncle, but their passing makes me sad and scared. Call me superstitious, but I believe that these things come in 3s. What if something happens to my grandma or my mom or me? I'm going to spend the next forever dodging black cats and spitting on the bottom of brooms. My grandma hated December because she lost her husband and mother in this month. I'm praying while keeping my fingers crossed as we move into the holidays.