subject line: three years ago.

 

houston, texas

Three years ago, I ended my bedside vigil for you as you took you last breath. I held your hand and told you, “I am here.” In that moment, something clicked in my head—it’s happening. You were my caretaker for 30 years and I was yours in the end. I don’t wonder if you’d still be proud of me, I’ve always striven to please you and meet your high standards—it’s ingrained into everything I do.

As odd as it sounds, the peace in that moment was indescribable. I’ve never felt the Holy Spirit surround me so strongly in that moment of your passing. Every day, every moment, I feel like I’m speaking a prayer to the Lord to keep me going—to be a source of strength for the rest of the family. Nobody talks about it, not even in passing. If no one says it, it’s not happening. How was I born into a family like then when I want to do is confront everything, lay everything out on the table, say “Here it is, let’s figure it out...”

I’m having such a hard time, pretending to be strong. The whole ‘fake it till you make it’ isn’t really working out for me. I’m a bundle of anxiety all.the.time. I have faith that I will endure, that I will get through this. Right now, I just use every breath I have to pray for the strength and patience and grace that I had in the moment that you took your last earthly breath.