srmousse
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Trigger warning… this is about my mom’s passing. It’s been nearly 20 years, but I am only now dealing with the reality that she took her own life.
Her life was hard, especially the last ten or so years. She was miss diagnosed with MS, when really she had pseudo tumor Cerbri… means fake tumor in the brain. Her spinal cord produced too much fluid leaving her with chronic debilitating migraines and eventually the high pressure took her eyesight. All could have been prevented if they had diagnosed her sooner. After she lost her eyesight, I left high school my sophomore year, opting for independent studies so I could help care for her. A decade later, right after I got married and before my brothers first baby was born, we got a call that her heart had stopped. All of the prescription narcotics finally took the ultimate toll on her life. None of us could understand, she had just been doing so much better… the last week she was happier then ever, feeling better then ever, she spent hours on the phone talking with her three kids, telling us how proud she was of us. How much she loved us. A blessing, to be sure. But, this was all, I now know, a final breath, a peaceful sigh knowing relief would finally arrive.
Our family never talked about it, my dad requested no autopsy… in his words, we know the cause, her heart failed, don’t waste the money…we all just quietly dealt with our grief and did our best to push on with life.
But, nearly 20 years later, here I am, on some kind of twisted internal annual clock, cycling through depression and anger, never understanding why never able to fully break free…
Until one day, last year, I was at a worship night at church, wrestling with God, asking all they why questions, trying to uncover the root of this anger. Or worship pastor finished the song they were on, and started talking. He said something about unforgiveness, so I started listening. He talked about needing to forgive so we, ourselves, can receive forgiveness and freedom. “Who do you need to forgive” he asked? I didn’t know, so I spent a few minutes praying, asking God. Then it hit me, right in the face, like a ton of bricks, like pulling duct tape off your hairy arm, like getting smacked in the balls by your three year old kid. I knew it was my mom, I knew in that moment she had taken her own life. I was wrecked. I had no choice but to deal with it, the Pandora’s box had been opened. I spent the rest of the hour weeping and snuck out before they dismissed to not have to face anyone. I called my older brother the next day, and asked him straight up… is this what happened? Yeah, he said, why do you think I spent three years in grief counseling. I called my big sister, same thing. It took me several weeks of wrestling before I finally was able to write this poem.
Warning…it is a heavy poem. It is raw. It is very real. It is not something I feel I can share publicly as some of our extended family just wouldn’t understand… so I’m sharing it here. Please don’t listen unless you are in the right headspace.
Please let me know what you think.
Her life was hard, especially the last ten or so years. She was miss diagnosed with MS, when really she had pseudo tumor Cerbri… means fake tumor in the brain. Her spinal cord produced too much fluid leaving her with chronic debilitating migraines and eventually the high pressure took her eyesight. All could have been prevented if they had diagnosed her sooner. After she lost her eyesight, I left high school my sophomore year, opting for independent studies so I could help care for her. A decade later, right after I got married and before my brothers first baby was born, we got a call that her heart had stopped. All of the prescription narcotics finally took the ultimate toll on her life. None of us could understand, she had just been doing so much better… the last week she was happier then ever, feeling better then ever, she spent hours on the phone talking with her three kids, telling us how proud she was of us. How much she loved us. A blessing, to be sure. But, this was all, I now know, a final breath, a peaceful sigh knowing relief would finally arrive.
Our family never talked about it, my dad requested no autopsy… in his words, we know the cause, her heart failed, don’t waste the money…we all just quietly dealt with our grief and did our best to push on with life.
But, nearly 20 years later, here I am, on some kind of twisted internal annual clock, cycling through depression and anger, never understanding why never able to fully break free…
Until one day, last year, I was at a worship night at church, wrestling with God, asking all they why questions, trying to uncover the root of this anger. Or worship pastor finished the song they were on, and started talking. He said something about unforgiveness, so I started listening. He talked about needing to forgive so we, ourselves, can receive forgiveness and freedom. “Who do you need to forgive” he asked? I didn’t know, so I spent a few minutes praying, asking God. Then it hit me, right in the face, like a ton of bricks, like pulling duct tape off your hairy arm, like getting smacked in the balls by your three year old kid. I knew it was my mom, I knew in that moment she had taken her own life. I was wrecked. I had no choice but to deal with it, the Pandora’s box had been opened. I spent the rest of the hour weeping and snuck out before they dismissed to not have to face anyone. I called my older brother the next day, and asked him straight up… is this what happened? Yeah, he said, why do you think I spent three years in grief counseling. I called my big sister, same thing. It took me several weeks of wrestling before I finally was able to write this poem.
Warning…it is a heavy poem. It is raw. It is very real. It is not something I feel I can share publicly as some of our extended family just wouldn’t understand… so I’m sharing it here. Please don’t listen unless you are in the right headspace.
Please let me know what you think.
