My mother passed August 14, 2021. My father passed March 7, 2023. Needless to say, the past few years have been tough. And if I’m really honest, it’s been longer than that.

My mother had been suffering for a while, mostly with chronic kidney failure. She was extremely private, independent, and insisted on living alone. At least once a year from 2008 to 2017, she had a crucial health challenge. Almost every year she had to be rushed to the emergency room, have a procedure, or stay in the hospital for an extended period. There were multiple specialists, appointments, and treatments per week. She didn’t want my sister and me to worry about her or know the depth of her situation so she only told us what she wanted us to know. That all changed when I received an accidental phone call from one of her doctor’s offices about her delayed arrival to an appointment. As the nurse inquired about my mother’s whereabouts, she revealed news about a procedure I wasn’t aware of. It was an honest mistake because my mother had chosen me as her primary agent on her affairs, including her medical documents, and listed me as family & emergency contact. The mixup call incident was not ideal for my mother but gave us an inkling to just how advanced her problems had become. The revelation led to a family meeting where my mother answered questions, expressed her concerns, and shared her eventual decision to go ahead with the doctor’s recommended treatment. She wanted to continue caring for herself and we honored her wishes. We accompanied or transported her to as many appointments as she allowed and made sure she always had what she needed. The major concern she expressed to me was she didn’t want be an invalid, that’s why she pushed as hard as she could to keep going on her own. At one point, she lost her peripheral vision and was told by her eye doctor she could no longer drive. She was livid, but it was for her own safety! She had started either forgetting to take her prescriptions or taking the wrong amount. This meant more support was needed and she really didn’t want people in her business like that. Her doctors recommended home health care, and after much pushback, she finally agreed to use the services.

With the extra help, things were going along seemingly okay until MLK Jr. Day January 2017. I got a call from her home health caregiver to say my mother wasn’t answering the door for the visit. I called my aunt, who was a former nurse and lived near my mother, to see if she were available to go and check. Thankfully, she was. I was on my way too. Before I arrived, my aunt called to say my mother didn’t answer the door or phone so she had to call emergency services. The firemen arrived and forced entry, only to find my mother bleeding and near comatose on the floor next to her bed. I pulled up right as they were putting her into the ambulance. At the hospital as the emergency room team was getting her hooked up to all the assessment machines, my mother went into a full blown seizure. I stood there watching almost lifeless, as I had never witnessed her have seizure. The nurses asked had this happened before, and I said not to my knowledge. Once the seizure subsided, my mother went into a state of rest and she stayed like that for several days, occasionally moaning and groaning. The tests showed previous seizure activity, which was news to everyone. Once stable, the hospital released her to a rehabilitation center where she showed little signs of improvement with therapy. She couldn’t walk on her own and could barely get her thoughts and words together. She had forgotten that I was married, didn’t remember my wedding, or my two children even after showing her pictures. She was absolutely amazed like she was learning new information! This is when I truly knew things had changed.

Due to her condition, the need for 24-hour care was necessary and she could no longer live by herself. My sister and I made the difficult decision to move our mother into a place where she could get round-the-clock extensive care with emergency services as needed. This season of transition was frustrating and often combative because our mother wanted to go back to her home, which wasn’t medically in her best interest. Along with a host of chronic illnesses, she had advanced dementia and was difficult to talk to and reason with. She had developed selective memory and was extremely agitated most of the time. From the time she went into care, my relationship with her was strained until the very end. She literally hated to see me coming and told me to stay away. She blamed me for everything, and even believed I had convinced her doctors she was sick and made it all up. She had no memory of her illnesses, diagnoses, and all the things that led up to her being in long-term care. I had to pick and choose my visits in order to avoid making her upset. Then, the pandemic happened and we couldn’t see her for a long time due to the extended shutdown in healthcare facilities. Right when the visiting restrictions were loosening up and a week after her 76th birthday, she passed. I knew she was finally at peace. I, too, found a semblance of peace in knowing before my mother’s decline, she put me in charge of her affairs and gave very specific instructions on how to handle things going forward. To the best of my ability, I carried that out. The weight and load was heavy, but God got me through it.

Within the next month, my dad revealed he had lung cancer that spread to his shoulder and head. He had already been managing chronic respiratory disease. It was a blow to hear what he was going through. He, too, was independent and wanted to do for himself as long as he could. At his request, I accompanied him to a few appointments. For the most part, he drove himself everywhere, took care of his daily needs, and tried to keep his life as normal as possible. During the days I was with him, we had long talks and I asked a lot of burgeoning questions that he so graciously answered. Those were some special times. Then, the last four days of his life he got really sick. He texted me from the emergency room to say he was in the hospital and trying to get better. Visitors weren’t allowed because his immune system was extremely weak. After he stopped responding to my texts and calls, I reached out to his brother, got no answer, and left a message. Then, by afternoon my uncle called to tell me my dad had passed that morning, after being released from the hospital the day before. He had celebrated his 77th birthday three weeks prior. He always said he was going to keep moving until he just fell out and died, and that’s exactly what happened. He never stopped right up to the end. I find comfort looking back at our text chain and seeing the last text message marked “Read” from me to him says “Love you ❤️”. You see, he didn’t like to say goodbye. After he was gone, I realized he most likely stopped responding because he knew it was time, and he didn’t want to have to say the final goodbye.

In separate conversations with me at vulnerable moments after learning of their diagnoses, my parents shared how disheartening is was to learn their illnesses were directly related to long-term smoking habits, social & depression-related substance use, exposure to dangerous machinery & chemicals in the workplace, overworking, and lack of prioritizing healthy choices. They apologized several times for smoking around my sister and me. They were thankful we hadn’t picked up the habit and prayed we wouldn’t suffer behind their actions. Smoking and drinking were sensationalized and encouraged when they were young as the cool thing to do. Education about the effects and dangers of smoking, second-hand smoke, and substance use was not popular back when they started. By the time it was, my parents’ admittedly found it hard to stop, even after severe warnings from their doctors and their health took a turn for the worse. Eventually, they kicked the habits, but it was not easy and the effects were rapid fire. The generation of my sister and I grew up in was flooded with substance abuse education and campaigns that were more like crusades. This understanding made our parents habits and the potential health problems burn in the back of our minds. In so many ways, emotionally, we had been grieving their illness and death all along. Sad to say, our worst fears came true.

Neither of them wanted elaborate funeral services. My sister and I opted for private graveside burials with non-traditional agendas because our parents really didn’t care for funerals. However, they loved music so I prepared individual playlists of their favorite songs and ones that reminded us of them and played their music as the soundtrack to each burial. They also told me not to leave the graveside without watching the groundskeepers fully cover the caskets with dirt. Man, each time was gut-wrenching but I did what they asked. Many people would think it was all crazy and unconventional, but the choices were most fitting for my parents who were set in their ways, loved to have a good time, party, and dance.

This time of year, especially Thanksgiving, is rough for my sister and me. Reason being, our mother had one of her worst episodes on Thanksgiving Day 2009 while my sister and her family were visiting town. They were at our aunt’s house with our mom’s family, and I was hosting my husband’s family at my house. During late afternoon, I got a call from my sister that our mother had to be rushed to the hospital due to severe bleeding and loss of consciousness. I rushed right away to meet them at the emergency room. We spent the rest of Thanksgiving holiday in the hospital while our mother was tested and treated. We were all stunned to find out all she was dealing with and her body was literally breaking down from the inside out. And since that day, we haven’t been the same.

Grief is real. There is no way to prepare for it. You do not know when, where, or why it will hit you. Knowing what to say or pray can be challenging at times because grief tends to dominate emotions, thoughts, and words. Mood swings and tears flow at the strangest times. An unexplainable numbness sets in. You long to feel better, but it seems like that’s not possible. Even when you think you’re feeling better, it doesn’t take much to bring you back down. A thought, a song, a smell, a taste, a place, a picture, a thing that reminds you of them. The triggers and trauma are different for everyone.

Before my parents passed, I would have vivid dreams of them. Seeing my parents go through all the challenges in their last years of life was mind blowing. They had faced and overcome life challenges too. They had hard lives as kids and young adults and a great deal of family trauma. They saw and experienced things no one should ever see. As a family, we went through many ups and downs. Even though life didn’t go quite like they had hoped and planned, I respected and admired their desire to keep on pushing and living. Once they passed, the dreams became more prevalent and lifelike. Dreams of my childhood all the way forward, memories of them, stories they’d shared, and other imaginary scenarios. I would wake up almost every night exhausted and sweating, like I’d traveled around the world in a day. I rarely looked forward to closing my eyes and avoided deep rest because I didn’t have a handle on my mind. I had to keep shaking myself out of it and reminding myself it was all a dream.

I cried out to God for peace of mind. As time went by, I dreaded less and embraced the dreams as an opportunity to see them, hear them, and maybe even learn from them. Today, I sleep a little better, yet, they are always on my mind, and I mean always! Fact is, I will never get over losing my parents, and I don’t believe I’m supposed to since they are part of me and I am part of them. What I know is my parents would want me to live life to the fullest. To carry on. To press on. To be the best I can be. To know the sky is the limit. To take care of myself. To make better choices for me and my loved ones. To finish my race. And that’s just what I plan to do for the rest of my days. I promise to carry on their legacy and honor them every way I can. I promise to tell their stories. I promise to heed the lessons they instilled in me, spoken and unspoken. I promise to make good on promises I made to them.

Although it can be debilitating at times, grief has led me to a new level of hope I never thought was possible. I have more determination now than ever before. My purpose is renewed. I’m more creative than I’ve been in a long time. I’m putting my plans and visions to action. I’m intentional about how I spend my time. I prioritize things that matter to me. I say yes less often. I take time for myself. I eat better. I take dance breaks. I protect my peace. I don’t engage with people who do not have my best interest at heart or talk to me in a disrespectful way. I don’t listen to everyone’s advice. I find new ways to celebrate the holidays. I cry when I need to. I rest when I need to. I do things that bring me joy when I want to. I seek ways to laugh daily. Most of all, I trust God with my hope rooted in Him, the only One who knows all and sees all. The One who comforts me and gives me strength by His power.

He will do it for you too! Whatever you’re going through, God is available to carry you through. Call out to Him and He will hear you!


In my trouble I called to the Lord. Yes, I cried out to my God for help. There in his temple he heard my voice. He heard my cry for help.
Psalm 18:6 ERV

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.
Psalm 56:8 NLT

So for now you are in grief; but I will see you again, and [then] your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take away from you your [great] joy.
John 16:22 AMP

My sadness has worn me out. Give me strength as you have promised.
Psalm 119:28 NIRV

You will keep in perfect and constant peace the one whose mind is steadfast [that is, committed and focused on You—in both inclination and character], Because he trusts and takes refuge in You [with hope and confident expectation].
Isaiah 26:3 AMP

What a wonderful God we have—he is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the source of every mercy, and the one who so wonderfully comforts and strengthens us in our hardships and trials. And why does he do this? So that when others are troubled, needing our sympathy and encouragement, we can pass on to them this same help and comfort God has given us.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 TLB

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing [through the experience of your faith] that by the power of the Holy Spirit you will abound in hope and overflow with confidence in His promises.
Romans 15:13 AMP