November 3rd. A day that continues to haunt me. A
day I can’t forget. A day I will never forget.
I’m almost certain that we all have at least one day in the year
that we just can’t erase from our memories. That one day that gives us just a
little more pain, a little more heartache.
As a nation, this day would be 9/11. Almost everyone that I
speak to about this subject has a vivid recollection of what they did that day.
Even people who were nowhere near New York City seem to remember that day. This
includes even me and I was just in the 3rd grade.
However, not all days are shared across the nation. On an
individualized level, we all have that one day that is very personal to us and
reminds us of all the pain and grief that is always present in our heart.
This pain can take many forms: Loss, Separation, Impossible Life
Choices, Death.
And sadly, no matter how long it was since that day occurred,
it somehow never leaves our memories nor our hearts.
For me, that day will always be November 3rd,
2011. The day my mother passed away.
2011 was not a good year. A lot of change happened within
that year. The biggest change was my transition from High School to College.
During these times of transitions, it helps when you have a support system to
keep you grounded. Throughout my life, my support system has always been my
mother.
There has never been a time in my life that my mom did not
support me or aid me in my life. When I was diagnosed with Autism at the age of
2, she worked hard to make sure that I still got the best education I could
get. She fought with difficult teachers who wanted to go against my IEP in
school. She helped me understand my homework. She supported me when I had
difficulty socializing but still gradually aided me into coming out of my
turtle shell. She took me to a loving and supportive church that became my
extended family for many years. She showed me what it means to love someone
like a neighbor and how to stay true to yourself. There are so many life
lessons, so many memories about my mom that to list them all could take
forever. Overall, my mother was a great woman.
If it weren’t for my mom’s support, I would be a completely
different person today.
After a few weeks of being in a new environment, a new
educational system, a completely new way of life, I discovered the awful truth
that began the process of what I call the worst few months of my life: My
mother had stage four cancer.
For the next two months, all I could do was my school work.
It was the only thing that I knew to do and the only thing that helped me to
forget my pain. I was thankful that I never had Tuesday and Thursday class so I
was able to drive every other day to the Hospital to see my mom as much as I
could. Seeing her alive gave me joy. Seeing her in the hospital though brought
me back into reality and made me question, “How much longer do I have?”
Several weeks passed and one Sunday I was riding back from
a College Retreat in the mountains. I got a call from my family that I need to
come back to Raleigh immediately. My friend Allison Lanza drove as fast as she
could from Black Mountain to Raleigh. I was terrified that I was never going to
see my mom alive again. The good news was she was still alive…the bad news was
that she was given one to two more weeks to live. I wanted my mom to fight. I
wanted her to get a second opinion or transfer to a better hospital to receive
greater care. But my mom was done. All she wanted was to go home.
Waiting was hard and not knowing was even harder. But
finally the day came. November 3.
Aside from my mother’s condition, it was ironically a joyous
day. My sister and her husband were getting married, which was something my
mother wanted to see before she passed away. We had a small ceremony at our
house and my mom was finally able to give her daughter away to her husband.
While my Grandma stayed with my Mom, the rest of us went to the church where
the official wedding occurred. Before we left, I kissed my mom and told her I
love her. She replied, “I love you too”.
Seeing my mom weak and tired always made my spirit
depressed. But surprisingly, I was having a good time at the Wedding and
reception afterwards. I got to spend time with my friends, my church family,
and my biological family. Somehow, I managed to forget all my struggles and
just enjoy the moment with everyone.
But the day was not over. When we returned, my grandma was
still beside my mom in her bedroom. As one of the oldest cousins, I decided to
play a board game with my three younger cousins so they would be entertained.
In the midst of the game, my father walked into my room and said the words I
had been dreading since I first found out my mom had cancer. “Kevin, Mom is
gone”.
Nothing. All emotions stopped. Time itself stopped. My
surroundings were a complete blur. I knew the entire house was in the midst of
grief, but I literally stopped feeling anything. Somehow, my body rose and
followed everyone into my mother’s bedroom.
I saw my mother’s body. The image haunts me to this day. I
didn’t stay long and I walked into the living room, still feeling numb. My Aunt
came to me and wanted to pray with me. She prayed, I simply stood, thoughtless.
Eventually, I walked to the outside porch and just sat on
the bench. In the course of several hours in the middle of the night, many
family members came out to see me, to check up on me. They held my hand and
cried in front of me. I simply ignored them. I didn’t acknowledge their presence.
I didn’t even want them around. I wanted nobody around. I didn’t even want God
near me. In fact, that night was the first time I ever turned my back on God.
Not only was I numb emotionally and mentally, but physically
my body was still cold because of the weather outside. But I didn’t care. I was
not moving. My minister at the time, Jamie Eubanks, came out and tried to get
me to come back in, fearing I was going to freeze to death. I fought with him.
I told him, I could not go back into the house with my mother still in there.
He explained that Hospice care took my mother’s body away and somehow that
helped, because before I knew it, I was back inside. The last thing I remember
was lying down in a solitary corner in the house and eventually falling asleep
from emotional exhaustion.
So now, every November 3rd, I remember these
events. I remember the emotions, the pain, my mother’s face…and I grieve all
over again. It’s been 5 years and I still grieve and the hard part is that I
know I am going to be grieving for the rest of my life.
Yet somehow, despite all the pain and suffering that I
experience from my mother’s loss, in the end, I know I am going to be okay. My
mother knew I was going to be okay and would remind me that I was going to
continue and that I was going to succeed and do good things in the world. Even
in the midst of death, my Mother was a strong person and her words provide me
comfort that I am going to be okay.
And I want to let you know, that you will be okay too. I
want to express how deeply sorry I am for your pain, your loss and help you to
realize that you are going to be okay.
It’s hard when we are in the midst of our grief to remember
that life goes on. It’s hard to remember all the good things, all the blessings
that are still in our lives.
We all have these days when our past comes back to haunt us
and we become entrapped in the grief that suffocates our souls. And even though
things will never be the same as they were before, I do believe that we have a
choice.
We can choose to let these days beat us, by giving up on happiness
and joy and instead allow our grief to become our entire world.
Or we can continue our lives, live the best we can and know
that even though our pain will always be with us, it does not control our
lives.
After my Mom’s funeral, I made many choices that I do not
regret: I continued to do the best I could in school and graduated with honors.
I did not give up my dreams of becoming a minister even though I walked away
from God on that night five years ago. I did not hold on to bitterness and
hate, but instead transformed my pain to see the suffering of others and
support them to the best of my ability.
It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to get
angry. It’s okay to feel depressed. The pain you are feeling from your loss, it’s
okay. You are going to be okay. I love you and even though we come from
difficult situations and have different pains, I want you to know that you are
going to be okay. You are loved, by me, by your loved ones, and by God and all
of us are going to comfort you and love you and help you to realize that you
are going to be okay.
I think Rev. Rob Bell said it best in his video called “Matthew”.
“May you realize that God is sitting shivah with you, fully
present, grieving your loss, but also restoring. And in that, may we find hope”.
Peace,
In Memory of Doreen Toth
Loving Mother, Daughter, Sister, Wife, Aunt, and Friend
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