The Thing About Grief

If 2020 was the precursor to what 2021 would bring me, I should have braced myself for what was greeting me on the other side of the new year. When 2021 rolled in, I wouldn't say that I was overly excited or even optimistic for the possibilities of the new year ahead of me. I was riding the wave into the new year in hopes of the pandemic being pushed further and further away from my rearview mirror. I was hoping that we were well on our way to finding our groove back into the world. I knew that it would look and feel much different, but I was ready for whatever that looked like. As I sit here and try to collect my thoughts about the first quarter of the year, it's all a blur. I know that I was telling anyone who would listen that it still felt like 2020 and that we are now living in a simulation, because, at this point, nothing much had changed. The vaccine was rolling out and becoming available to more and more people, but everything still felt stagnant and the same.

I decided that what I needed to break the monotony was travel. I booked a trip to Mexico for April and was set to leave the week after Easter; just a week before my birthday. Springtime to me has always been God's way of reminding me about new life. Things from the earth that were barren and dead come back to life. I remember feeling really good about the change in weather and the flowers that were starting to bloom, and the birds were singing and chirping every morning by now. It was starting to feel good. There was a little bit more sun in the sky; I felt good about life. But God was giving me signs in ways that I should have been paying attention to. But nothing could have prepared me for what was coming.

On the morning of April the 8th of this year, I remember waking up and having several voicemails from my mother's phone number and some of her acquaintances. I remember being annoyed by the ridiculous number of voicemails. I played them, but the first one said, Kellee, Louryn is dead; call me back. Message number two, Kellee, call me, please. I remember thinking, why the fuck would anyone leave a message like that on someone's phone. Louryn is my mom. I dialed my mom's cellphone because I thought it was a mistake, and at this point, the wrath of hell was flowing through my veins. On the other end of her line, I was greeted by a friend of hers picking up and answering, telling me that they were sorry and that the police were there to get her body.

I remember holding my breath, and time felt like it stood still. I think my soul left me for a few minutes before I could process what was going on. On the other end of the phone, my mother's friend was talking to me, but I remember nothing of what he said. The following person on the other end of my line was the police. My mother had overdosed off of a bad batch of drugs that was laced with Fentanyl. She was gone. I kept thinking that someone didn't know what they were talking about and that she would never do some shit like that. My mother struggled with addiction her entire adult life, but she would never go as far as damn near killing herself. To say that I was devastated is not even close to what I felt or still feel. My mother was only 58 years old. That is too young to be going away from here with so much life ahead of you. I couldn't wrap my head around what the hell was happening to me.

My mom was such a free-spirited soul. She loved listening to good music, theater, and the arts. She was always teaching me and exposing me to different cultures and people from all walks of life. My short time with her had a significant impact on my life. She ingrained so much of herself into my very own soul. I would be lying if I painted the picture that things were always good with her. They were not, not by a long shot. But it doesn't take away from the fact that she was my mother. She created me, birthed me, and gave me a fighting chance in such a big crazy world. She taught me so many important things about life; God, survival, self-perseverance, and most importantly, resiliency. So how do you mourn the loss of someone with whom you've had such a tumultuous relationship with? My emotions fluctuate on the spectrum of anger, deep sadness, and emptiness. More empty than anything.

The following months after my mom died were some of the most isolating times of my life. You see, when your mom is an addict and has a terrible reputation of screwing people over and burning bridges, people don't come around or reach out when they pass. Some relatives even went as far as saying, “it was only a matter of time.” Everyone called in the first few days to see what happened, but then, it was radio silence. My mom's brother and his daughter put something together for my mom's cremation, and that was that. It was over. It was final. I still didn't believe that she was dead, even with her remains sitting in the urn downstairs on the table. I would sleep a lot and ask God to help her as if she was still here; I would call her phone and see if she would pick up. I would talk to myself and ask her what happened that night, but I couldn't feel her. I would ask Karina at random if my mom was really dead. I would spend hours looking at old photos of her trying to ingrain her memory in my brain of how she looked. Her hair, the color of her eyes, her half crooked smile. I didn’t want to loose her. Karina tried her best to keep me busy, but she eventually left for the summer to do some training with her job. For the first time since my mom passed, I was alone.

I thought I would be okay, but then it all hit me like a ton of bricks. I had what you would call delayed grief. Once Karina left, I was alone with my thoughts, and I was breaking down day by day. There was no more serotonin left in my brain. I thought about dying every day. I wanted to just kill myself. It’s like I was starving for oxygen, and I could find it anywhere. I was suffocating in my own grief. On one particular evening, I was so distraught that I had broken down while doing the dishes. The dog was so worried that he began licking the tears off of my face. Rudi was so upset by my breakdown that even he was crying. Rudi felt helpless. He had never seen me so emotional. As I slowed my breathing down, I gathered myself and put a cool rag on my face. That night, I cursed God. I cursed God in one breath and prayed to Him in the next breath to help me because I was going to end it.

I still have days like the one I just described. Some days I am okay, and other days a memory will flood my mind, a song will play on the radio, or I will have a dream of my mom that sends me into deep grief. I don't think I will ever be the same. My mother was the only person on earth that called me Keke; she was the only person who ever loved me with her entire life, the only person that constantly told me how proud she was of me, the only person who had probably ever properly loved me. She would always tell me that I was her firstborn and that she had never seen anything more perfect and pure than me. She couldn't believe that I came from her. She named me Kellee DeLorean Green. De means of, and Lorean means Louryn. Put them together, and DeLorean means of Louryn. And now she is gone. It's like a piece of my soul is dead. I don't think I will ever look at life the same. I've always been aware that we can be here one day and gone the next. But here lately, it's more like here today, gone today.

Looking back at it all, God was sending me signs. But you know, God's voice can be still and small. Ever since I was a little girl, I have had dreams of things to come. I can feel things before they happen. The night before my Nanna died, I stayed awake all night crying and shaking because I could feel my Nanna soul leaving me. I was inconsolable, and my mother could not soothe me no matter what she tried. We didn't know that my Nanna would die that night. The following day, the priest came to our door to deliver the message that she had passed in the night. A few nights before my mother died, I dreamt of a black widow spider. Black widows are a bad omen, but I couldn't feel my mom for some reason. I just thought it pertained to me. I thought it was a sign for me to be careful. Our hydrangea bush always blooms early and is completely full way before summer. This year it remained barren, and the flowers didn't really bloom. I took it as another sign. Also, my hair didn't grow this year. Everything about this year has been death. I went to Croatia at the end of summer and almost stepped on a snake after dreaming of one the night before, another bad omen.

I am not sure what my future looks like, but I am taking it one day at a time, sometimes, one second at a time. Grief is a strange thing, and it can look different for everyone. I am willing to tell anyone that will listen that I am have not been okay this year. Usually, we say that we're fine by default when someone asks how we're doing, but I have been saying not so good when I am asked. I find that it makes people a little uncomfortable, but that's okay with me. I don't really care how comfortable people feel these days. I am just living in my truth and in my grief. I think, to go forward in life, you have to sit through some uncomfortable shit at times. So while I plan on sitting in this grief, I also plan on doing the work to get me to a healthier state of mind. My mother's tragic ending of life will always take up a sad spot in my heart, but if I have learned anything over this past year, it's that life is for living. Do all the things you have always wanted to do; you can be here today and gone today.Most importantly, tell your loved ones that you love them, regardless of whatever issues you have with them. Once a person has transitioned away from this earth, that is it. Love on them and let them know that you care.

I want to mention how incredible my two best friends have been to me during this time. Karina for always taking such excellent care of me and loving me through one of the worst times of my life. I know this has been one of the most trying years ever, but I love you forever and always until we are old lady ghosts. Me, you, and Rudi until the wheels fall off. For Crystal, who has also lost a parent this year and another one the year before last. Crystal drove down immediately to be with me for a few days when my mom died. She has been a constant friend for over the past twenty-something-odd years. We are the same person, just living parallel lives. I don't know where I'd be without either one of them. My mom once told me that you are blessed if you have just one good friend.

Thank you, guys, for taking the time out to swing by and catch up. I hope that wherever you are in the world, you are blessed, healthy, and loved. I can honestly say that I am looking forward to the new year. I feel the shift happening already. I can tell that this upcoming year will bring a lot of growth and change. I am so ready for all thats waiting for me. I plan on doing a lot more journal-type writing about my travels over 2020 and 2021. Be looking out for those posts soon. Until next time. Ciao

P.S. If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, please get help; there are people out there who love and need you.