A topic that I’ve been trying to deal with for years, but instead I’ve struggled. It’s not something that I like to talk about, but they say that it helps to talk about your struggles. I’m learning that slowly, but still… It’s hard. So, the back story.
When I was 7 years old, my Mum died of cancer. Lupus to be specific. December 9th, 2004; about two weeks after her birthday. I remember that year like it was yesterday, well the main parts. That year my Mum got me a birthday cake that had one candle. One! Can you imagine?! Anyway, we were in the dining room, just me and my parents. Me, standing there staring at this cake, wondering why there was just one candle, while they sang me happy birthday. They finished singing and I blew out the candle, as you do. Then my Mum removed the candle from the cake, took it off of whatever it was on and flipped it over. There must have been something covering it, because somehow it turned into a sweet! The permanent grin that I then had on my face! Oh my!
Then a month or so later my Mum went into hospital. I can’t even remember how she ended up there and honestly my timeline could be a little bit off, but she wasn’t in there for long. When she came out, she was always working out. I remember her going jogging a lot, me walking on her back during her exercise sessions. I even joined her sometimes. Then I guess things started to deteriorate. At some point she started wearing these things on both of her hands to support her wrists. She even lost her voice for what felt like an extremely long time. This was especially significant, because I remember going to church one week and not wanting to leave her side when I was told I could go play. I remember feeling like it was my responsibility to help people understand what she was saying, because I was with her all the time. Instead, she forced me to go and play.
The next thing I remember is waking up one night to noise. I couldn’t even tell you now what exactly I heard, but I remember running into my parents room. I then remember running to get a cold flannel to put on her forehead, because she was so hot. At some point, my Dad took over and I was told to call the ambulance. I remember my Mum telling me that she was fine, my Dad taking over the phone call and me taking over the role of keeping her cool. When the ambulance came, she was rushed to hospital, but she never came out.
My Dad and I spent everyday in that place. We’d go to school and work. He’d come and pick me up and then straight to the hospital. He started to leave me with a family friend on weekends. He’d drop me off the Friday night, pick us up in the morning for church and then pick me back up for school Sunday evening. I admit, I liked this arrangement, because the friend had children of her own and I always had fun there. After, being an only child, it was nice to be constantly surrounded by craziness, even if it was for barely three days a week. One day the routine changed a bit. My Dad picked me up from school and we went to the hospital as usual, but at some point in the evening one of my Dad’s sisters came to pick me up. I remember my Mum telling my Dad that she didn’t want me to go with her. She couldn’t remember who she was. We knew all of my Dad’s sisters, the close ones anyway, so my Aunty was definitely not a stranger. My Dad told us to go anyway. She took me out to eat that night and then took me home so that I could go to bed.
Then one night, my dad dropped me off at the friends house and went to the hospital as usual. We ate our dinner as you do, but just as we were getting into bed, someone started banging on the front door. The friend went to go and answer and then within seconds, she called my name and told me to get dressed. She also got dressed and the guy drove us to the hospital. I remember getting onto the floor that my Mum was on and seeing people that I recognised from church. We then went through the doors that lead to the wing and I remember seeing so much more. I remember feeling confused, wondering why all these people were here. Anyway, we carried on walking until we got to my Mum’s bed. I remember the curtains being closed and having to go through them, to see my Dad and my Mum completely covered by the sheets. I remember asking my Dad why she was covered, because I was the only one who slept like that. He pulled back the sheets and showed me her face, while telling me that she had died. I cried that day, but I never fully accepted it until I saw her casket go down into the ground.
2004 was the worst year of my life. It forced me to grow up, and is ultimately the reason for why I am the way I am. I remember praying a lot that year, asking God to make her well again. Every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to bed. She died anyway, and I always felt that God hadn’t answered my prayer. It made me so angry at him. I started to feel like I was alone, that the only person I could depend on was me. I’ve believed that for the longest while. Always holding people a certain distance away from me, afraid to let them in. Even those that may have felt that they were getting somewhere, if only they knew the amount of walls they still had to go through. I started bottling up everything that I was feeling and pushed it to the back of my mind. Along with that went my Mother and every memory I had of her. I couldn’t think about her without crying, so I refused to. It’s almost like she didn’t exist. I hated being reminded of her, people talking about her to me, especially those people who told me that I looked just like her. I hated it! There was a hole in my heart that I didn’t want to be reminded of, and that’s all these people were doing, at least that’s how I felt. The thing is, I was never going to be able to completely get rid of her. I’d have to change my whole face, because I’m literally my Mother’s twin. So she wasn’t going anywhere, even if I tried.
I’m slightly happy that God didn’t answer my prayer now though. I later found out that she had been ill for years and how I was her miracle baby. You see my Mother had had 4 miscarriages before me, so God essentially gave her a blessing and then time to enjoy it. Time to enjoy being my mother before he took her out of her pain and misery. Sick for years and I didn’t even know. Can you imagine?
So, why did I write this? Well I was scrolling on twitter, and came across this tweet; ‘People who can pick themselves up after losing their mother are so strong. Cos I wouldn’t be able to. I’d lose the plot’. I didn’t go into everything that I went through regarding my Mum because we’d be here all day, but if I did you would understand how much that tweet spoke to me. Some people that I know who lost there Mother after me, told me how much of an inspiration I had been to them. One lady in particular went as far as to say ‘If I could get through it, then so could she’. It’s funny, because if they knew how much I’ve been struggling! How much I’ve been putting on a brave face, I don’t think they would have felt the same way. Looking at it though, I could have ‘lost the plot’. I lost my Mum at a vulnerable age and yet my head has still been screwed on. I’ve never believed it when people said that I was ‘stronger than I thought’, but maybe I am. I mean, next year I’ll be a graduate, and I’ve done all this without the one person that I wanted most in my life. I’m making changes to be a better me, starting with actually talking about my problems and not bottling them up. I’ve always done well and I aim to continue to do well, even though the biggest odd has been stacked against me. Losing a mother can affect people in so many different ways, and it’s different with each person. There’s no handbook on how to handle the loss of a loved one, because it affects everyone so differently. You just have to find what works for you. As it says in Philippians 4:13, ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me’, because we can do all things, especially when we put our minds to it!
If this wasn’t just me writing to help me process my thoughts, I hope that anyone who may be going through the same thing, or at least a similar thing to me, will remember to be strong and to never give up. We are strong and if we believe it, who can really tell us any different?!
Remember:
‘Smile
Smile one more time
You are too beautiful
Hold your head up high
You’re so incredible!’
-Joonie: Smile
I eat cake 