The Deaths That Changed Me

Death.

What a grim subject. 

Talking about it openly has helped me rewire my once-fearful brain. As a child growing up in a Southern Baptist church, death was a frequently visited topic. But it was a topic of fear-mongering. Do this, and you'll die and go to hell. Do that, and you'll die and go to Heaven. Is it really that black and white, though? What about the feelings we face along the way to our own demise? What about the emotions that boil to the surface when we deal with death on a personal level, such as the death of a family member, a close friend, or even a complete stranger? What lessons does death teach us via losses around us before it's our turn to leave this world? Of course, this is different for everyone, but I'd like to share mine here. 

The first death I can actually recall experiencing was that of my grandmother. She suffered from various illnesses and conditions my entire life, but it was shortly after my high school graduation that she took her last breaths. In previous weeks, I visited her and told her about my fiance and our upcoming wedding. There had been a lot of pushback from my parents regarding my relationship, but my Grandma's last words as I left that day were, "You do what makes YOU happy, honey, and don't worry about anyone else." So when I was summoned to the hospital to say my final goodbyes, I felt the heavy weight of grief as it started to rain down onto my shoulders. At eighteen years old, feeling like my Grandma Eunice was the only one who really believed in me, her passing pressed upon my heart like the loss of a best friend. She breathed her final breaths two days before my nineteenth birthday, and March 3 will always be a day I pause in her honor. 

The following two actually re-wrote a part of my life. In 2016 after marrying my current husband, we quickly became pregnant with our first child. I found out the happy news shortly after he deployed. Somewhere between six and eight weeks later, that little life stopped developing within me, and after an ultrasound to confirm was deemed a missed miscarriage. So here I am, alone, without my person, grieving the loss of our child. And what hurt the most was feeling my body had failed to do the one thing it was made for. I was in my healthiest state, and even that wasn't good enough to maintain life. I was crushed. When my husband returned six months later, it was like ripping off the band-aid as we were finally able to grieve together. When we became pregnant again five months later, it was like Groundhog Day. We did receive confirmation of pregnancy right before he deployed and were at least able to share a few happy and hopeful moments together. Still, the exact same thing happened on almost the exact same timeline. You can imagine the anxiety that overcame me when we discovered we were pregnant a third time. And although my husband remained my rock, it wasn't enough to keep me from continuing to spiral deep into depression that almost took my own life and the life of my unborn child, who is now a healthy, happy five-year-old. 

Amid my own depression, my husband received news that one of his best friends back home had passed away. The relationship they shared has always been a bit of a mystery to me, but my husband's recent introspection and sharing have given me a greater understanding. This friend saw him through the most tumultuous relationship of his life; she had given him fair warning that the woman he was with would destroy him. And she almost did. When we started dating, he told her everything about me and was ecstatic to have her come to celebrate with us at our wedding. But, for a reason we'll never know, she didn't show up, and the friendship changed. And then, on June 2, 2017, she was gone. At the time, I was so deep in my grief that I wasn't there for my husband the way he needed me to be. I knew he was struggling, but he was trying so hard to keep me afloat that he was forced to put his emotion on the back burner. Only recently, six years later, was he able to go to her grave and say goodbye to his best friend. As we walked through the cemetery, searching for her grave in the pouring rain, thunder, and lightning crashing around us, I had to inwardly chuckle at the thought of her saying, 'Look at this dumb bitch walking around in this storm, looking for my grave like she knows me or something.' I hope I gave her spirit a laugh and she rests peacefully. 

Part II coming soon...