Memento Mori: April 2021

I thought April was going to be filled with less pain.

I couldn’t have been MORE wrong.

My father passed away 4/13/2021.

When a parent dies, regardless of how great/terrible the relationship was, it isn’t something that we can mentally prepare for when it comes to how we emotionally brace ourselves. All we can do is feel whatever there is to feel, process it as best we can, and let go. I’m not going to say one part is easier than the other because they’re all difficult to do and I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to let go for the rest of their life.

My father was a hero and a great man to a lot of people. I could rightfully say that they didn’t know my dad the way I did, and I’d be 100% right. Even my brother, sister and mother had different relationships with my father. He apologized to them for being who he was behind the veneer of greatness he was to other people. I received no apology before his death. A bit of me feels robbed of even the last attempt to show he cared. I’ll never get that moment where it even seems like I’ll get a piece of the father I deserved. He died without my view of him changing and when I attempt to articulate it, it only sounds like rage. Especially hearing and reading people tell me how to feel because their experiences and memories of him were worth remembering.

If I could completely forget the bad that outweighs the good, I would but it would literally be forgetting who he is. The amount of good my father did, outside of obligatory things we’re supposed to do as parents, is a measuring tantamount to a deadbeat father who makes sure that when he does show up, he does so with a gift. That gift that’s supposed to make up for not keeping you safe, tricking you into believing he loves you BECAUSE he’s your father. The gift that you don’t realize is some bullshit until you’re much older and understand that some people would rather do ANYTHING but show true accountability. A gift that saves face and is more about them than it was ever about you.

I had to grab all these confusing feelings and tuck them away for my surgery that was 4 days after my father’s funeral. A memorial service that angered me more than put me at ease. It was a reminder that how we remember people will always vary depending on who you’re talking to and all the recollections can be true. Imagine the cruelty of diminishing anyone’s memory simply because they’re different. But of course, we aren’t going to have too many services where someone lays the bad deeds out as we do when it comes to praise. They opt to keep them out of sight because that also puts them out of mind. It would even be considered poor etiquette to say “this person was not always the great person most people knew them to be…” So those who had sordid pasts with the deceased tend to swallow their discomfort in favor of others remaining comfortable or they distance themselves completely.

There have been lots of nights since 4/13 where I’ve been close to deciding on [even more] distance. Death isn’t overwhelming because I don’t know what happens after dying. Experiencing someone I know dying isn’t a lot because I’m afraid of death. Death isn’t scary to me because I accept it as inevitable. Kind of like having a period if you have ovaries and a uterus. It’s something that happens whether we want it to or not. This death has been heavy because of all the unanswered questions that will never have an answer directly from my father’s mouth. It’s an immense amount of pressure that initially made me hyperventilate in the elevator because of what I’d like to do to help myself right now versus what I had to do.

My surgery was supposed to happen on 4/19/2021. The surgery needed to be rescheduled because of my recent medical history. As soon as I hung up with the scheduling nurse, my cell phone rang and I saw my mom’s name and even though I knew there was a great chance of the call coming any day now, it was still like being punched in the chest when I heard her say, “he’s gone.” Hearing my cousin in the background crying, further solidified the truth. Not saying my mental state was any better from the 19th to the 27th but I got to breathe a little more than if the surgery hadn’t been rescheduled.

Having to go back to work a lot sooner than I wanted to has helped me to compartmentalize things into a bucket I’ve entitled, Deal With This Shit Later. I used to be a bit more detailed with my labeling, but life has a way of happening where you don’t really have all the time in the world to do what would preserve your mental health. Regardless of the advice from mental health advocates and professionals, America is not the place where the majority cares if you’re okay. People are going to keep asking the same question of “how are you” until they’re no longer interested in our welfare. Sometimes the people who ask don’t genuinely care but it’s a societal norm to act like we care. I decided I’m going to continue saying “I’m here” until I feel like saying something else because, it’s a truth.

So the recovery from this surgery has been tough. I’m supposed to be taking it easy, considering this is a 30-day recovery. However, time stops for no one. I still must be present for my daughter, my job, and whatever little bit of myself that keeps the insane part tethered to the strongest parts of my sanity. Now isn’t the time to lose it and I am reminded of this when I think about when Bug was born. Life changed drastically the day I was beyond the date I could get an abortion. I was officially committed to another person. That thought alone was deep enough to drown in the first two years of my daughter’s life. I knew to be the mother SHE needed (not the one I wish I had when I was little), there was a LOT I had to get busy adjusting and leaving behind. I liked who I was at 29 years old, so it was like asking me to change simply because another person wanted me to…

When we view parenting from that lens, it automatically becomes another life difficulty. We’re not supposed to change because of other people, right? We’re supposed to change because we want to and recognize the need for growth. I didn’t want to however, I’m glad I did because it has made me a person who has collected the mental fortitude to keep telling myself I can get through MORE shit.

I’d be lying if I said there aren’t moments when I wish I had a pass to lose my shit and completely snap. I wish there were some guarantees that once I do snap, I’ll have the time necessary to get my mental state back together. I wish all my relationships could be protected from any of the effects associated with any negative behaviors that inevitably flare up when you’re not doing all that well. I wish I were terrible at being self-aware so I could be like some of the self-centered muthafuckas who have no problem making everything about themselves or the hardships they’re currently experiencing. There are no guarantees that I’m going to be okay. I just wake up and keep going because as far as I’m concerned, that’s all I can do at the moment.

Some of my goals will be delayed due to my healing process but I’m not putting them on the backburner. My determination to succeed at being something more than just someone’s mother, still exists. I don’t say that with any disdain. I say that from a place of knowing, I wasn’t born JUST to be someone’s mother. Bug would have made her spiritual way to this earthly realm one way or another. I just so happened to accept the role as Life Guardian this time around. A result of me completing the things that are important to me will be that Bug has an example of following through on what she loves and wants in her life. No matter the obstacles, she’ll never be able to say she doesn’t know anyone who refused to give up.

Last but DEFINITELY not least, honorable mention of my divorce proceedings starting the first week of April. The husband promised to not be or make anything difficult with the process. Time has determined that was a lie. It’s stressful but good ol’ compartmentalization allows me to move how I feel about shit being drawn out longer than I want. I didn’t still want to be married to him 7 years beyond when we separated. However, when you’re dealing with someone who proudly stated, “if I have to make someone else’s life difficult for my life to be easy, I will”, I gotta admit, this is on par for his behavior.

So as much as I got through April and will approach May with the same attitude for my own benefit, I did it for Bug too. The month of May brings a milestone for Bug that I want to be fully present for… she graduates from the 5th grade. Becoming a 6th grader is a big deal for her and I’m doing my best to not rain on her parade with all my sad. The closer we get to her commencement date, the more she’s smiling. I’m going to love her joy until I can fully dive back into my own.

Hopefully, all this character-building bullshit evens out and I get to see some fruits of all this emotional labor. Who knows when that shit will start kicking in, but I do know May needs to chill the fuck out and just let me breathe easy.

Here’s to May having what I need the most right now.
Here’s to the universe just being like, “here” because I trust it knows better than me.