(On November 21, 2012 my mother, Angela Griego passed away. She had a long fought battle with breast cancer. These posts are reflections and honest emotions that I have felt over the past 4 years.)
Denial was my friend, my badge, my shield when my mom first got sick. I knew the situation was serious but accepting and knowing are two different things. In my mind there would always be “another treatment method” for her to go with. I could not imagine losing her so soon, it had to be in a far off distant future. So for me denial was the pace I lived. I would pray and I would hope that she would get better, but at the same time the reality facing her was something I refused to accept.
I still do not know how to accept this reality. I have learned to live in it, but I do not want to accept it. How does someone accept that a person they loved so much, a person that was so close to them, that they would call almost everyday was no longer there. How do you accept that your mother is going to get ravaged by a disgusting disease that will not stop and that who’s only medicine is a poison yourself to try to poison it. How do you cope with such pain, such reality?
I knew the “christian” answer, and understood, at least, the concept that God is sovereign and in control. How does one though accept the reality that this is “His will” for someone you love so much? How do you not want to yell, scream and fight against this reality?
Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane asked God to remove this cup of suffering, the pain, agony and darkness He was about to face. He did say “not my will, but yours”, and he went, he died, he knew why, he knew the outcome, and he had a resurrection. My mom prayed similarly, and she died, she will have a resurrection and we wait, but to what purpose was her death. Jesus died for sin, my mom? She died for….
Maybe the answer is not to accept, but to hope defiantly against the darkness. Maybe we are not supposed to just click the “I accept the terms and conditions” button on life’s sufferings, Perhaps we are to rage, to shout into the darkness, to yell that we do not get it, but we wait. Not because we want to know now, but because we hurt now.
I know the reality, that my mom is not here now with us. That I cannot call her and ask her so many normal everyday questions I have. I know that Angelina will not meet her here and now, and that for my other kids Nana is a memory becoming more distant by the day. I know she died and breathed her last, I was there when she did. I do not accept this though, I do not welcome this, I yell in the darkness saying , this is not how it will end, this is not how the story goes. I yell my confusion, my pain, my anguish at times, and in that yelling, there is hope. Hope that this is not the end, this is not how the story goes, that this is just intermission for her, for us, and one day we will see the ending, and it will be something not just to accept, but to embrace.