Chronicles of an Inspired Single Mom

‘Don’t tell Kamille!’

‘Don’t tell Kamille what?’ I said as I stepped behind the curtain around her bed.

She’s gone…🥺

Hey guys it has been forever and a day since I’ve done this, to be honest I was ready to pack it in but I realise I have a unique gift and packing it away prematurely wouldn’t be right.

For those of you who are new to my blog, welcome, for my regular readers and supporters thanks for always encouraging me and taking the time to glean from my virtual pages. I appreciate you.

It has been 4 months since my mother died and life has just felt like a whirlwind since then. I’ve had moments of sadness, times when all I could do was lay in bed. I’ve had brushes of anger that consumed me but many days when God’s perfect peace constantly washes over me. I’ve had storms in the middle of this storm and days of not knowing whether I’m coming or going…I just go through the motions, especially for the sake of my children. I’ve had times when I wanted to scream but in opening my mouth there was not even a sound uttered; but through it all I remain strong and keep stepping forward even when people put their expectations on me and forget hey she’s still grieving.

Flashback to November 2022 my mother came to the UK to seek medical attention and for a holiday. My son and I made the trip to Heathrow to collect my parents and that night I succumbed to tears in a meeting because deep down I knew something wasn’t right. I remember driving home from work one night speaking to my best friend on the phone. She had lost her mom as well earlier that year. I said to her, I feel like I’m watching my mother die and there’s nothing I can do about it. I cried!

A few weeks before mom passed I remember sitting with her on her bed she laid her head on my shoulder and cried, I held her in my arms, I reassured her that everything was going to be ok. We had a few moments like that and she would quickly dry her tears if anybody else came into the room. I guess she felt safe with me to be that vulnerable and she didn’t want the rest of the family to see her crying.

There were many days of reminiscing about the good old days, many doctor visits, and many prayers. I would smile often as she and my son would be cuddled up in the bed together. He was her security guard. He would sit by her bedside and eat his breakfast with her and watch the news. He would ask her many questions. My daughter combed her hair and as a teenager does was hidden away in her room sometimes which I later understood why (she said mom it was hard to see granny that way). We played games, we went shopping, we went to the hairdresser, we went to church.

Everyday when I left for work, she’d say have a good day and I’d kiss her on her forehead. Every night I’d sit by her bedside and eat dinner, while we chatted and laughed. I remember one night my brother was massaging her feet, she looked at me and she must of understood how I felt without me saying any words and she beckoned to me, and I curled up like a child and laid my head on her lap as she rubbed my back.

One day too tired for conversation or even food I said mom I’m going straight to bed, I had a shower and as I was walking past her bed I looked at her. As I walked up the stairs to my room I simply prayed to God please do not take my mother before Christmas.

On boxing day we ended up at the A&E department…12 hours, many tests, exhaustion,hospital food, coffees and teas and three different doctors later the word from the doctor was ‘no hope’. When he said the next dreaded word my heart and stomach fell straight to my feet, but I stood in a trance and continued to listen.

Thursday 29th December

I was out working but I’d sent a close friend of mine to be my eyes and ears at the hospital after speaking to mom that morning and her nurse. It was a scary conversation. That day I knew what anxiety truly felt like. Every time my phone buzzed my heart skipped a beat, I took several wrong turns and cried silently whenever I was alone. My coworker told me I could leave and he’ll take over but I stayed…don’t ask me why. As I got home from work I showered, and headed straight to the hospital, I walked in on the tail end of the conversation that the doctor was having with my brother and father. My friend briefed me on what I missed. The nurse on duty at that time(God bless her) lobbied for me that I could stay with mom through the night because this wasn’t allowed on the ward she was on.

I remember as I stepped in the room she looked at me and she asked, ‘Am I dying?’

Everybody left and it was just mommy and I. She didn’t speak much words because she was exhausted. Imagine if you can, a regular hospital bed. Now picture me and mommy in that bed together. Half of me was in the bed and the other half was levitating in the air. The holy spirit truly was holding me up. I read a devotional text for that day and she rested her head on my shoulder and nod and grunted as I read. There were times I could barely see the words on the page because tears filled my eyes.

Psalms 42:11 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God: For I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

That was a rough night I slept for an hour at the most, as I tried desperately to make mom comfortable. I remember sigh, when her vitals had dropped extremely low and the critical unit team rushed in the room, they took me outside to speak to me I had two choices, for mom to be admitted to ICU or stay on the ward. The doctor was harsh with her delivery she said ‘your mom can go to the ICU but the ICU is not a miracle working place…… but at least she’ll die with dignity; if she stays on the ward she won’t die with any dignity. At that moment a member of her team passed me an unopened box of tissues. I held it tightly and swallowed hard fighting back tears and emotions that just wanted to spill out. I still don’t understand what that doctor meant but, we move! Mom chose to stay on the ward surrounded by her family.

I was exhausted beyond words or comprehension by dawn. When they brought her breakfast the lady looked at me do you want some tea or coffee, Coffee I exclaimed. I fed mom, she ate everything which was unusual because she had lost her appetite. Mom looked at me one last time, she said ‘sek you ok’ I said ‘yes mommy, I’m just tired. That was the last thing mommy ever said to me. I left the hospital at noon and I kissed her on her forehead and reassured her that I loved her and I’d be back at 6pm.

‘Lord prepare my heart for whatever I’m about to face’ Those were the words I uttered as I walked towards the hospital on the 30th of December 2022. Mom took her last breath as I was walking in. I took my shoes off and I climbed up into the bed and held her and sang ‘It is well’. Everybody else was crying and I remained composed (my aunty said I was in shock..idk). After the doctor pronounced that she was indeed gone I called my pastor, he came and prayed and stayed offering support. I called a few close family and told them because news spreads quickly and I wanted them to hear it from me.

I remember sitting in a shower room at the hospital for a bit, in the dark, alone. Trying to understand what transpired and what it all meant. I didn’t even think much about myself. My worry was ‘how am I going to tell my children?’ When my friend brought them and I sat on the hospital floor to tell them , my daughter bawled uncontrollably and my son fell silent. I stayed until they prepared her body to be taken down to the morgue. I am truly appreciative of the hospital staff for allowing my family to come and go on that ward that night as we paid our final respects.

A few days later I went back to the hospital and when I got to where mom’s bed was there was a man sitting there. I was like what in the world? I was hoping that this was just a dream and she would be there. As I was leaving the hospital a staff member asked me if I was ok? I looked at her and said NO and burst into tears.

The days and weeks that led up to mom’s funeral are a blur. I suffered from insomnia, I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t eat sometimes. The nights when I couldn’t sleep I would take my laptop out and just start typing and from that came her Eulogy. I remember the sweet receptionist at the funeral home looked at me one day and said ‘hey get some rest’…to which I replied ‘I’m trying’. The day when I went there to drop off mom’s clothes I just came undone and she ran from behind her table to comfort me. But through it all I remained strong when others couldn’t, I made the calls, handled the finances, organized the service, met with the florists, pastors, caters etc. Don’t get me wrong I’m not saying this to seek attention, or make it seem like I did it alone or boast on what I’ve done because I’d do anything for my mommy but looking back I realised that I did this and was so immersed that I didn’t have time to grieve whatever that means. I was too busy planning.

The day before the funeral I bawled like never before. Thank God for my two sisters who took turns to comfort me and my brother as we watched our mother lay in her casket at the chapel of rest. It was only then that it really sunk in that mom was dead and she wasn’t coming back. In fact I can remember saying that to my sister Arleone. She held me tight.

The night before the funeral I had a splitting headache. I sat drinking tea as friends and family decorated the church hall. I was the driver that night lol. Two of my sisters, my kids, two of my nieces and my best friend who was sitting on a lawn chair in my van lol (don’t ask, that’s a story in itself) rode to the church singing ‘We have an anchor’. It was that anchor I’ve had to learn to lean on. The day of the funeral I got up early and showered, it was going to be a marathon in that house. I live in a 3 bedroom terrace house, which somehow provided a resting place for 9 people that night. I drove around Birmingham for an hour. When I got back I got dressed and I remember the house going quiet, the funeral cars had arrived. I opened the door to go out and all I remember is my Aunty Dawn appearing out of nowhere and holding me, as I walked down the stairs, I just kept telling myself to breathe.

The week after mom’s funeral (more like days), I was back at work..can you imagine sigh. Not just back at work but at a new job as well. There were moments where I would be standing watching the students while on break duty and I’d have to turn my back because tears just flowed. I shouldn’t have been there, it was too soon, but…

For a week all I could do was summon the strength to go to work and I’d come home and go straight to bed. I didn’t want to speak to anybody. Some people understood and gave me my space to process, others ridiculed me and talked about it and they didn’t understand that grief takes everyone differently.

Easter was exceptionally hard for me. Though we celebrate the resurrection of Christ the constant talk of death was a trigger for me and once again I retreated to my safe place ‘my bed’.

I think this is the most I’ve spoken about this season of my life. I’ve tried to keep this post based on my perspective as everyone’s take would be different. What I found that has made this process so much easier to bear is the love and concern from my church family and family and friends near and far. The texts, calls, food, visits(even when I didn’t feel like it), flowers(oh my goodness so much flowers) and other gifts(one of my favourites being a spa day). All I can say is God bless you all.

Grief takes many forms. I’ve seen it cause bitterness and resentment, anger, sadness, depression, regret, confusion, joy, peace, bringing families together and also ripping them apart. I’ve come to realise not to rush the process and that I can’t help anyone before I help myself (which is why I will be starting counseling soon).

Some days I’m still stuck on December 30th 2022 when mom and I were in the hospital bed together, her head on my shoulder and me singing for her. Some days I’m as happy as a lark. Some days I don’t want to speak to anyone. It’s a process my process and in time I guess it’ll get better but until then those who are close to me allow me to go through my grief without the additional pressure; the thing is I can’t show up for you sometimes cause I can’t even show up for me!

You may be going through the death of a loved one and finding it hard, or at a loss of how to feel or what’s next. Take your time don’t let anybody rush you, go through the process and take whatever time you need. But deal with your feelings don’t bury them.

As I learn to put on my own oxygen mask first and wait for the next instruction, give me grace, give that other person who’s trodding down this painful winding road space and grace as we ‘Navigate Grief’.

If you made it to the end of this ramble…wow I need to send you a bottle of wine lol Until next time. SHALOM