The Story of 3

This is a brief introduction of my journey through grief.  It is to serve as if it was an excerpt from my diary.


My grieving journey began with the death of my grandfather in July of 2003.  He and my grandmother were the one's who raised me as my mother was a single mother and had to work three different jobs to sustain us. I was his side kick. Always near or right beside him. Where ever he went, I went.  He died of a massive heart attack while mowing the grass one morning. He was a man who always was working and moving. He never stayed still for long and wasn't a person who had many things done for him willingly. My grandfather was a great teacher for me. He taught me how to be kind and be self sacrificing.  I won't go into much about him right now since I can go on for hours. We will leave that for another post.


His death went through me in different spurts of shock waves.  Most of those waves contained a massive amount of anger. Anger towards him, anger towards God, anger towards family members, and anger towards the world. I didn't understand why I had to lose him.  I didn't understand why the world kept moving when I was dying inside. Why I had to keep living. What the heck I was living for.  I became self destructive after his death.  I was on a road with no regard to anyone else. I didn't share my feelings with anyone and it took years for me to be able to even say his name.  I wasn't comfortable talking about him, even with my own family. Even when they were going through his death as well. I felt that his death affected me more than it did them. That they didn't love him as much as I did. I know how this sounds but that's exactly what I was feeling. Regardless if it was wrong or right, I was feeling that.  I didn't have much guidance in retrospect on how to grieve.


I felt that if I prevented myself from crying and shielded myself from speaking about him, I would get over it. One day my pain would end because I wasn't allowing it to surface.  However, not letting my feelings out only made me more angrier and I felt even more alone.


And then there were two......


Two years ago my aunt died after a colonoscopy gone wrong. My last "real" hug from her was during Thanksgiving weekend.  I will never forget that hug because that was the first time I'd ever hug her so hard. I don't know why I held on so long that day. It wasn't like I knew what was later to come.  A couple of days later she went to her appointment and during a routine procedure her delicate colon was perforated. They tried putting in a temporary colon bag, but it didn't end up helping her situation. Later they tried to put in a permanent one, however, her body was starting to shut down. Jesus gave her to us for a whole month before he took her. Within that month I learned what it was to express your feelings to someone. Since my grandfathers death I wasn't a person who shared her feelings.  Within that month I learned what it was to speak to someone who couldn't really respond back. It was very difficult for me to see her the days she couldn't even open her eyes. The days she was so heavily medicated that I felt she was already gone. On those days I lost some hope.


There were other days where she was able to open her eyes and look at me. I knew she could understand me. I will never forget the day I asked her if she was tired of seeing me. She shut her eyes in so much pain and shook her head as if saying never. In retrospect it felt like she was saying goodbye and I could feel her emotional pain.  Needless to say I had to turn away for a second to contain myself.  It's heartbreaking to see someone you felt was invincible and learn that expiration dates really do exist.


This was the first experience where I learned what it really was to be on the front lines and pray for someone to survive.  It was the first time I would ask others to join me in prayer. It was the first time where I learn what death signs were.  Where I learned another person's loss was greater than mines. Where I started to learn how to grieve the health way (if that exists).


The biggest losses in my life (so far) have been in three.


 April 29, 2010 I lost my grandmother who was my mother to me. She was my best friend, my counselor, my cheerleader, the person who didn't care if I was wrong but would always be on my side and my protector.   A couple of months before we had just moved her into her first apartment. She was so proud to have a home of her own.  She decorated it the way she wanted with the assistance of my mother and I.  Remembering the days of running around and finding things for her apartment are things I look back on now and smile about it.  This is very fresh for me right now so I'm having a hard time writing about it right now.





During Thanksgiving through December 2009, she began to get a little sick.  She would have a little cold and cough that would come and go.   January finally came around and the cough didn't go away. She was having a hard time breathing. I told her I was going to pick her up and we were going to go to the hospital the next morning. She jokingly said I would have to drag her out and I said I would if I had to.  With my grandmother you had to be tough right back in order to get her to do what was needed.  Finally we got to the hospital and she was first diagnosed with pneumonia. Later that day she was diagnosed with lung cancer.  The cancer had spread to both lungs. She also had some tumors in her brain.


We had to make the decision to not go through with chemotherapy because of her fragile condition. Alongside the group of doctors, we made the decision to take her back to her home and take care of her with the assistance of hospice.  I will write more about her and everything that happened another day.


I'm having a difficult time writing without drowning my keyboard with tears writing about her.


May God continue to bless you and everyone you encounter. Never forget you are not alone in your grief. May you find some healing through this.


<3 Cherie