Grief Doesn’t Go Away, You Just Learn To live With It

I could feel this day approaching the same way ol’ folks feel rain coming in their joints…

Four years ago today my sisters and I stood by her bedside singing as she took her last breath. I’ve said it before, but watching life leave the body in real time is truly sobering.

My best friend. My prayer partner. My shopping buddy. My secret keeper. My mom.

It was ten days from diagnosis to death. Cancer ravaged her body, and those days are mostly a blur. I remember them now only through videos, pictures, and flashes of sound.

The one thing that stands out is the zipping sound of the body bag when the coroner came to pick up her body. The administering of medication, the oxygen, the labored breathing. Moistening her mouth with those q-tip looking things. Brushing her hair. The way she stopped speaking but continued to worship. Eyes closed, hands raised, mumbling “my my my my my yes God.” If you knew my mother, you know how on brand this was.

Four years later and the grief remains. Grief doesn’t go away, it goes dormant. A sound. A song. A smell. Anything can be a trigger. I can’t tell you the number of days I pick up the phone to call my mom only to realize she’s gone. Some days I just need to hear her voice, so I listen to this one particular voicemail. It’s her in all her glory—mad at my sister, and mad at me too because she wanted me to co-sign what she was calling about 🤣. That six seconds feels like ten minutes when the grief is heavy…

She’s still at the top of my favorites ⬇️

Today I’m dealing with grief better than I was three years ago. Two years ago. One year ago. One. Day. At. A. Time. The motto I live by. I will continue to create space for grief when it shows up.

I miss you more than words can ever express, Mom. Today and always, I honor you—

Annette Virginia

September 13, 2021 🕊️