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February 20, 2016

When A Mother Dies

The last time I looked upon your face, it was on this day… 24 years ago at 11:20pm.  You were taking the last of the breaths your lungs would ever hold.

You were exiting this physical plane… without a word.

No goodbye.

Prior to your exit, you had called out for your first child, and I felt a pang in my heart like no other.

Why her?

You were not even important enough for her to come to you when you asked… some 365+ days prior to your death.

She did not deserve you calling out to her in that way.

Yes. Anger had settled in for the ride.

How selfish of me to think of myself when it was you who was dying.

So selfish.

I was 24.

Forgive me.

As a medically trained professional, I was there.

Waiting to call it.

Waiting to announce your departure from the world.

Only 24 and about to check your vitals for the last time.

Although, we were never close as a mother and daughter “should” be, you knew I would be the one who would be there in the end.

You knew I would drop everything—including my military career—to take care of you.

Even with my Air National Guard medical training, I felt ill-prepared.

I was not ready.

I did not want to do what I had been called to do.

You were too young.

It was all too soon!

You were always there, even when I never called out to you. Always there in the shadows like a fly on the wall.

Intuitively connected. Energetically shielding me as only a mother can do.

How was I to move on with my life without knowing you were there… physically.

I was not ready for you to die but you were.

You were tired.

Tired of living with a body that continued to hold illness.

Tired of the lessons this physical world placed before you.

So, you left.

How poetic is it that you were there when I took my first breath into this world, and I was there when you took your last.

Poetic and tragic.

With your death, the torch was now passed to me.

You knew I would unlock the strength to do what needed to be done.

Through me, I would activate what needed to be activated.

Through me, I would heal the bloodline and release the pain.

The first year without you was rough as hell.

Through silent tears
I see my life
A world of desolation
And darkness

Though I cry for help
My voice goes unheard
People are living
And I am fading away

Friends are no consolation
To my pain
Only a barrier for a world
I long not to face

Death is imminent for
It’s closer than I think
Depression has become
The one friend I never wanted

Look in these eyes
And you will see
A woman who’s failing
In life miserably

Adonya, August 11, 1992

I wrote this poem when I was fighting a serious infection. My throat was so swollen that it was hard to discern the outline of my jaw.

I could not vocally express my pain.

I was emotionally numb.

I was angry.

So, my body manifested these emotions by slowly closing up my throat; making it hard to speak, breathe, drink, eat.

Although, my immune system won the battle, emotionally I was still a wreck.

Bitterly moving through the years, I continued to face one steep mountain after another.

Not wanting to deal with any of it, yet too vain to check out. Suicide would not be part of my exit strategy.

I was too attached to this physical world.

It has now been exactly 24 years (to the minute) since you walked the Rainbow Bridge.

I look at your picture, and tears flow like a river wild because I miss you so much.

I light a candle for you and hope you feel its light.

24 years…

When I look in the mirror, it is your face I see. I look so much like you did before you crossed over… only I have a badass mohawk. 😉

I am still the child who is living to the beat of her own drum.

Walking the opposite direction of the status quo.

And missing you terribly.

I hope I am making you proud.


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