There’s almost noting left of the family I once knew and cherished. 22 years ago today I thought my greatest fear was realized when my mother was trapped in the dust cloud from 9-11 while leaving her job on Maiden Lane. I couldn’t reach her for hours and feared the worst. I couldn’t fathom life with out her then.

A day later, I learned she was tired, dirty and a little scratched up but she’d made it to my parents’ Westchester home after sleeping in Grand Central station over night. The horror of what she saw and heard stuck with her.

3 years ago today, my mother took her last breath for real. Ironically, it was 9/11/20. She passed away after a bout with cancer and scleroderma, beginning the decline of the family I once knew. Four months ago, my father passed away of a heart attack but it was clearly a broken heart.

Now, their longtime home is under contract, a lot of their possessions are in a box, relatives have scattered and don’t remain in touch as much yet life continues. I decide what mementos from their lives get kept or tossed or sold. I figure out how to keep everyone in contact, where to celebrate holidays and how to keep my parents’ memories alive. I also struggle to keep the stress from crushing me physically and mentally, the thoughts of them from making me breakdown while balancing the pressures of work and my chronic illness.

I’ve heard, “the pain of grief is the joy of life.” I know that to be true because my mother, my family, was one of the best I’ve ever encountered. The absence of my mom and my family structure is so enormous, it’s present daily and often leaves me without words.

Continue to rest in paradise, mom! Dad’s with you now. If I play the hand that I was dealt right I will see you again too.

#RIP #grief #death #blackfamily #mothersanddaughters #chronicillness #spoonie #9/11 #september11