On August 26, 2010 my mom was found dead in her apartment. I remember every single moment of that dreadful evening. I remember the look on my grandfather's face when he came to my home and told me I needed to come to their house right away. I remember asking what was wrong and getting only the answer "come down to the house". I had been making my son dinner and so when I grabbed my phone I saw that I had multiple missed calls from my sister. As I loaded my son into my car and drove down to my grandparents house I knew exactly what she was going to tell me. Mom was dead.
April 15, 2013, my nightmare reoccurred. My grandma had been unable to reach my dad throughout the day on the phone. As it got later in the evening she became more and more worried. She called me at 5:14 and asked me to text him to see if he'd respond to my text. I did but didn't think anything more about it. At 8:10 she called again to see if he'd texted me back. I replied that he hadn't and to see if cristyle had heard from him. I sent cristyle a text a few minutes later that she responded to saying she was going to go to his house and check on him. I told her to let me know how things were. My stomach was in knots and I kept repeating to myself that he was fine and that grandma always thinks the worse. Dad probably had his phone off or maybe lost it or something.
9:01 my grandma called asking if cristyle had called me. I said no but that'd I would text her and have her call. After cristyle didn't reply to my text, I called her. Her voice was soft and shaky as she said my name. "No no no! What's wrong?!" I yelled into the phone. "Tell me right now!"
Once again, my beautiful sister delivered the news I was praying wasn't true. Another parent.. gone.. the same way.. alone in their home for days after death had come for them. This time my sister had found him though - not the neighbor like for my mom. She'd peered into the back window of the house because he wasn't answering her knocks on the front door. She saw him through the window, laying, unmoving on the couch. After calling 911, she broke the glass as instructed only to find what she already knew was true. Dad was gone.
Heart broken and alone, she waited for the police officers and detective to arrive. Scared to tell my grandma, she called my uncle Jon and told him to go over to grandma's so she wasn't alone to hear that her eldest son was no longer on this earth. Jon delivered the terrible news to my grandma stating through tears, "he's with dad, mom." Her husband, my beloved grandpa, had died exactly 8 weeks earlier.
My mind is numb. I am very tired yet unable to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see the same pain on the faces of my siblings that I saw 2 and a half years ago. I see the pity and wordless faces of friends and family again that I saw in those dreadful days proceeding her death. Although I didn't physically see my father lying on his couch, when I close my eyes that's what I see. Pale, cold, and without life, like grandpa 8 weeks ago.
When I do fall asleep, I wake up gasping for air and in a panic. My own screams and cries wake me from what little sleep I've been able to grasp. The only sleep I've had the last two nights is that restless-awake-but-not kind of sleep that I am way too familiar with.
As I stare into the darkness of my room, I can't help but wonder why this is the route God chose to take both my mom and my dad from us. Even my little brother's mom was taken in her sleep five years ago. For them to be here one day than suddenly, without warning, be gone the next, is incredibly hard.
In a way, my grandpa's death was almost a comfort after months of pain and suffering. He gave us time to say good bye and accept that he was passing away soon. Perhaps because my parents and stepmom suffered so much through negative choices they'd made throughout the years, God's relief was more for them than for us? Unlike my grandpa, they'd made choices that made life harder on them, like smoking and alcoholism. Perhaps my grandpa's death was prolonged and foreseen because he could handle that brief pain FOR us so we could adjust easier. Rather than more pain for my parents, God let them come home to Him in their sleep.
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