In a world where loss leaves echoes, how do we navigate the labyrinth of memory? Join us as Shundra Chamberliss bravely confronts the hidden corners of grief, where the past intertwines with the present in unexpected ways. Discover how life’s diverse experiences shape our sorrow and what happens when grief is complicated by more than just the absence of a loved one. Get ready for a candid conversation that will explore the power of unlocking buried memories and the profound impact of our moments of grief. This is widowhood, unfiltered.
I am sharing my experience of loving the same man for 32 years, a mother to two adult children, a retired military officer, a breast cancer survivor, and my connections with others.
Anyone experiencing suicidal thoughts should reach out to a suicide hotline or local emergency number in their country: Psychology Today Suicide Hotlines and Prevention Resources Around the World.
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Unfiltered Moments Of Grief: Love, Loss, And Memory With Shundra Chamberliss
My guest, Shundra, has information to share that’s going to blow your mind. The idea that our memories can be hidden, and the desire to want to unlock them when we lean into our grief. How do different experiences in our lives impact our grief? What is a grief that’s complicated by more than just the passing of a loved one? Let’s get into this candid conversation.
Hello, Shundra. Welcome to the show.
Thank you.
What do you think about Welcome to the Widowhood? When you heard that, what was the ticker tape across your forehead that I couldn’t see?
The Impact Of Grief & Loss
The first thing that came to mind was family and community. When you say that, I feel relaxed. I feel like I’m at home.
I love that. I’m going to share something you shared with me when I first started this show. I remember you asking me, “Is that for anybody that’s dealing with loss?” I said, “Absolutely,” because it is family. I’m glad that you picked up on that part because grief and loss are a universal experience. If we’re fortunate enough to have lived a life where we had someone we love, then that was a gift. Living life in their absence is a lot of work.
Even to be able to talk about this, I feel the emotions come on because I need them. I need the release. Some things we hold are bottled up, and we don’t even know we are doing it. I feel tense.
Thank you for sharing that, because that tension does arise when it comes to our loved ones. There’s also something very interesting that you talked about with that release, and knowing that the talking, the crying, and the release are on the other side of that. Can you remember a time when you cried or addressed something, and that weight was lifted? If so, can you share that with us?
That’s hard because I haven’t talked about my grief with anyone. I’ve talked with people about their grief, and I was very supportive of their grief. When you talk to somebody about their grief, I personally don’t like to add my grief to theirs because I don’t want to downplay what’s going on with them. I never get a chance to talk about it. This is the first time that I’m able to get whatever is inside because I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I’m waiting for you to ask the question.
You joined me on a live, and we had a bit of a conversation. You’ve got to share there. How was that for you?
That was good. When somebody else is talking, it makes me remember. I don’t know if you have sporadic times when you don’t remember stuff. For me, it’s because of the trauma that I’ve learned to suppress. I’m having a hard time remembering my childhood and the times with my mom because I learned to push it down.
We do learn to push it down, but it does not go away.
It doesn’t go away, but I keep pushing it. I feel like it has piled up.
What has made you decide you’re done with pushing it down?
I am in the place of my life where I’m getting ready to step into a new level of my life, like another stepping stone. It was this one stepping stone in particular when my daughter was sixteen and pregnant. The first thing I did was pick up the phone to call my mother, only to find a man answering on the other side. It dawned on me that my mom is not here. This is another stepping stone. I’m thinking about her. I’m thinking about her advice. I’m thinking about what she would say about my decisions and where I’m going. I’m remembering the things that she said I would do. I wanted to celebrate and hear her congratulations for me.
That makes a lot of sense. How old were you when your mother passed?
I was 36, about to be 37.
Thank you for sharing that. Your mom’s name?
Ruth.
When Ruth passed, somebody said, “At least you were an adult by the time your mom passed.” You hear different things people say to the bereaved. Someone said, “You were 36 when your mom passed. You should be okay.” What is your gut response to that if it were unfiltered?
I’m not going to be mean.
When I talk to someone about their grief, I don’t like to add my own grief to theirs because I don’t want to downplay what they’re going through. So, I rarely get the chance to talk about mine. Share on XWhat is the real answer if it were unfiltered? You happen to bump into each other at the grocery store, and somebody goes, “Don’t you love the month of May?” You go, “My mom passed this month,” and they go, “How old were you when your mom passed?” You say, “36.” It’s like, “You should be fine already.” If you didn’t have to filter that, what would you say?
I’d be like, “What the hell are you talking about? I still need my mom. It doesn’t matter how old I am. I’m still her baby. I still need her advice at each level. Each step that I take in my life, there’s a new thing that I need to present to her and get her advice on.” My mom was good at giving great advice because it was raw. She knows me, so she didn’t hold back. Even if it hurt my feelings, she still told me. I don’t know anybody else like that. I’m missing that raw truth that I could only get from my mother.
How does Ruth’s not being here impact your being a mother?
It made me indecisive because I depended on her so much. I became unsure about my decision-making when it came to my children. I made a lot of mistakes. My oldest, we don’t have a great relationship, which is another story, because I had her for my mom. My mom went through a period of sickness, and it was like a reason for her to live. She fought hard to live because she knew I was pregnant. She was there the whole time. I handed her over to her. My mom and her were always together.
I was a single mom, so I had two jobs. I was going to college, doing everything, and paying for everything. I was supplying all of what you would call the father would do, and my mom did all of the nurturing. When she passed away, my daughter was looking for nurturing, and I didn’t have it. It’s like I had to get to know her all over again.
That’s fair. I can relate to that. When our children were young, it was the opposite of your situation. I was the nurturer. I expected that when our children got to a certain age, my husband would be the primary parent and I would take the back seat. When he passed, I was like, “I’m not equipped for that. That is not the version I was planning on, Lord. What are we doing here?”
The reality is we are all hardwired differently. That’s who we were organically created to be. It doesn’t make us worse or less than. I may be a female, but that doesn’t mean I’m supposed to be the super-nurturing person. That may not be how I’m hardwired. You may be hardwired to be in a different way. People have these social norms that they package us in. It makes it difficult for us to show up organically who we are because the world is putting these particular labels on how we’re supposed to show up. When you look back and see what you’ve done and who you are, what do you think about your decisions?
I’m still going through it.
This is a thing that I’ve learned. I can look back at the decisions I made a few years ago and nitpick them to pieces. That’s not fair because I’m using today’s knowledge to assess yesterday’s decision. What I can do is take today’s decisions and use all the stuff I’ve learned before. If I’m doing that, we’re doing the best that we can with what we have.
I agree. For example, even though my daughter and I didn’t see eye to eye, when her father passed and it was his funeral, she called me. For her to call me was a big step. She opened her heart to me. Due to what I know, I was able to nurture her. I didn’t even know I could do that. I was very apologetic. I was careful with my words.
Whereas in the past, I was hardcore because I was raised as the leader of my family. I was always in charge of the siblings. I was always taking them everywhere I went. I was always watching everybody, so I didn’t have time to be nurturing. Even my mother didn’t nurture me. There were no hugs, kisses, I love yous, and stuff like that. My sisters and my brother got all of that, but I didn’t get that. It made me tough in that area.
Even when she passed away, everybody waited for me to arrive so that I could take care of everything, and I didn’t have time. I looked at her and covered her up because, to me, she was violated, because it went against everything that she wanted. She didn’t want to be resuscitated. Her mouth was open. She was topless. All I did was try to cover her up because I knew what she wanted.
I didn’t have time to take a moment and look at her, or I didn’t allow myself to feel because I had to take care of business. That’s how I was raising my children, working in the prison system. I was hard on them. I was strict. I didn’t have that other side, which they needed love. They’re adults, and they need it. Even when I try to hug them, it’s like a three-second hug. It’s like, “Get off of me.” We do that. It’s like, “You’re hugging me too long.”
There’s something to be said about being a Black female working in the prison system, seeing the worst that could happen, and never wanting that to be your children. Whatever you could put in perspective in their mind to make sure that was not their situation.
It made me very hard on them and overbearing. I learned a lot from that because now that they’re older, they can tell me.
I hear you’re allowing them that freedom to tell you.
They couldn’t say anything before.
I know some people in their full adulthood where their parents are still not welcoming to that conversation. I hear you learning from past experiences and creating a new space.
There were also times I wanted to tell my mom my secrets, but she didn’t want to hear them.
Who did you tell?
My mom was good at giving great advice — even when it was hard to hear — because she knew me so well. She didn’t hold back, and even if it hurt my feelings, she still told me the truth. Share on XNo one.
Journal or diary?
No, because I didn’t want someone to see it.
Who do you trust like that?
God. I don’t have a human for that.
Thank you for being so honest. When you talk about the next level in your life, are you open to sharing what that next level looks like and what this next venture is for you?
Personal Grief & Healing
Yes. The next level is that I’ve learned so much to build my relationship with God. My relationship with God has gotten stronger to the point that my need to even have a person to talk to is not gone, but I run to talk to him more. Now that I do that, I hear him more. I depend on what he’s saying to me to make my next steps. This is why I’m moving to Kenya. We’re counting down 60 days. On May 26th, which is my mother’s birthday, I’m trying to create new memories. I want May to be a happy month and not a sad month. I purposely decided to leave in May.
As I go through this healing process with my mother, I will be ministering to women who are abused sexually and physically. This is part of my next level. I’m taking all that has happened to me and all that emotion and passion that I have and putting it into someone else. As I learn how to unload, talk about it, and get past the grief and all of that, I’m able to minister to other people about how to do that also. As I learn, they learn it with me, if that makes sense.
It does.
Did I answer your question?
It did. If someone wanted to support your efforts, how would they connect with you, donate, or provide money for your efforts in going to Kenya and the ministry work you’re going to do?
You could send donations to Living Destiny Church. I set up a GiveSendGo page. I have an LLC here in the States, already starting the foundation in Kenya, an NGO. I’m building a restoration house. It’s called the Restoration House of Sanyu. Sanyu is my African name, which means joy. It’s the Restoration House of Joy. That’s what I will be doing among other things, but my main focus is ministering to abused women as well as helping the elderly. Women and the elderly are my key community.
Thank you for sharing that. How are the women and the elderly, from your perspective, treated differently in the country you’re going to than what you see here in the States?
There is a high level of respect, especially for the elderly. I don’t want to say that’s God to them, but when the elderly bless you, it is a big deal. When I see someone who’s elderly, I immediately prostrate on the floor. That’s what we do. We kneel down and prostrate. You hold your head down and wait for them to put their hand on you. They will bless you.They take that to heart. Receiving blessings from the elderly is considered wisdom. It’s such a high respect for them.
There are large communities of the elderly in Uganda and Kenya because there was an epidemic of AIDS between the ages of 30 to 50, where there’s a gap in age that’s missing, and there are a lot of children. All of the grandmas and granddads are taking care of these young children. It’s like a whole community of the elderly. I go in there and assess their needs because they might need a roof rebuild or houses built. That’s what I would be doing, helping to assist in that community for the elderly.
What are some of the misnomers you think that people in the States have about Kenya that you have found to be wrong?
That everybody’s poor. Everybody is not poor. There are some flourishing communities. It is not high rich. There’s also a middle class there. There’s a middle class, but the poor are poor. It is beyond the poor that we know. Our poor would probably be more middle class, if that makes sense. If it’s poor, it’s poor, like dirt poor. If it’s rich, it’s rich. In that country, the currency is better than our dollar. We will be rich. Based on what we make in our income, we would be very wealthy in an African country.
If Ruth were to write you a letter about what you’re going through and what you’re preparing to do, what are some things you think your mom would say to you?
The first thing she would say is the scripture Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Anytime I had something negative to say about what was going on, she would remind me who I am, what I carry, that nothing is by chance, and that God is in control all the time. The first thing she would say is, “Remember who you are, where you’re walking, and what you’re carrying.”
That being the first thing, what would that mean to you, hearing that from her?
It’s uplifting to me because she has always instilled in me that I can do anything. She always told me that whatever my hands touch, it would be blessed. That’s true. Everything I do with my hands is blessed. I have to take the time to do it. I am going somewhere where I can use my hands as I want to. I’m looking forward to seeing the outcome of that.
Thank you for sharing that. You said that would be the first thing your mom would share. What do you think she would share with you after that?
She would tell me, “Don’t worry about the kids. Don’t worry about the family. Keep your focus on God. She’d tell me about men. She’d say, “Stay away from the men. Stay focused. Make sure you dress properly. Make sure you are being respectful. Honor the people that are in your presence and you are representing.” My mom had a thing about representing your family. Wherever I go, I’m representing my father. I’m representing our family. If I mess up, it’s a reflection on the whole family.
That sounds like a lot of pressure, though.
It is, but it keeps us in line. My father knows everybody. He worked in the shipyard. He always ran into somebody. It didn’t matter where we were. If you’re in the 757, my dad knows you or your father, or your father’s father.
Have you instilled that same type of demeanor into your own children?
Not as much. I hold back a little bit. It was at some point in their life that I realized that maybe I’m being a little too controlling and a little too hard on them. I knew what that felt like, so I was like, “Let me hold back a little bit, not so much.” I’ve been a little lenient. If my mom were alive, she wouldn’t allow it.
She’s cracking a whip.
All the time.
When you think of your mom and you think of the emotions that you have not dealt with, is there fear of letting your emotions go and falling apart, or any anxiety about expressing yourself that way?
Yeah. It’s about being vulnerable. I equate vulnerability to weakness. My mind has changed about that. The way I was raised made it look like being vulnerable is like being weak. I don’t allow myself to open up that way. There are very few people I would even break down in front of, like you.
When you say that, what are you talking about?
It’s unexpected. Since I’ve been holding it so long, I can’t hold it anymore. Any little thing would make me burst. It’s like an explosion. I’ve been holding it, so I’m full. At any minute, I would cry the drop of a dime versus all the time I’ve been holding it.
How is that new emotion going for you?
Not too well. I’m turning into a crybaby, and I don’t like it. I’m watching movies and I’m crying. I’m like, “What’s wrong with me?”
You’re human.
I don’t like it.
This is counterintuitive to the people that you’re going to be trying to help.
I need to be fixed.
Is it fixable?
Nothing is by chance. God is in control at all times. Share on XYes. Sometimes, when we are around certain family members, we don’t feel comfortable opening up. I don’t know what it is about the African people when I’m in that country. They make it easy for me to be vulnerable.
The atmosphere is different. They’re talking in low tones. Their voices are very soft. They’re not aggressive or demanding. When I’m there, they treat me like I’m special. It relaxes me, and it makes me want to talk about it. Versus here, I could see the judgmental eyes, or somebody might say something that’s going to trigger me. I worry about those kinds of things, but when I’m in that atmosphere in Africa, I don’t have that problem because they’re not going to insult me, judge me, or those kinds of things.
You laid some bombs there, because there are some things to be learned as we’re supporting people who are grieving. You may never say anything, but those eyes shifting, somebody picking up their phone, or doing something else and not focusing on you is loud as far as how it’s interpreted by the person that you’re talking to.
Especially with somebody like me who studied body language. That was one of my majors, forensic psychology. It helped me get through working in a prison. I had to be cautious all the time, so I had to know people’s thoughts before they acted. To see that in people who I believe love me, and then they are not giving me their full attention when I’m trying to be vulnerable, I don’t do it because I don’t want to waste my time.
Have we become a society where we’re always doing 2 or 3 things at a time? The idea of listening to one person, who does that?
We are always busy. We always got schedules. We always have somewhere to go. There’s always something to do. I’ll be talking to people, and then something pops into their head and they’d be like, “I forgot to turn the stove off,” or, “I forgot to do this. I need to do this,” in the middle of the conversation. I’m like, “I’m done.” It happened very often.
What other body languages or things have you learned? You didn’t know we were going to end up here, but that is super helpful when people are with someone. It doesn’t have to be your support system from grief. It could be, “I’m hanging out with my girlfriend.” What are some other body languages that show that people are not focused on being present? That is the term that we use more.
I notice the shift in the body. I notice the breathing. It doesn’t even have to be a loud breathing. Your breathing changes when you are annoyed. I notice your eyes if you can’t look me in the face when I’m talking to you. Some cultures don’t want you to look at their face, but I know in our culture, we look at each other’s faces when we are talking to each other. At least that’s what I was raised with. The eyes get shifty. Sometimes, people control their bodies, but they can’t control their eyes. They can’t control their facial expression. Their lips would do it. It’d be quick, too, sometimes. It would be quick, and I would catch it.
That’s a lot of good information. Those are good tips. I’m going to shift back to what we were talking about. I couldn’t help but go down that road, so I am going to pull us back a little bit. When you talk to people who are grieving or you’re supporting people when you’re in Africa, what are some of those same things that you need to give to yourself to grieve?
Transparency & Vulnerability In Grief
It is about transparency for me and being able to talk about the hard parts. My past is connected to rape and molestation. A lot of reasons why I am the way I am are because I never dealt with that trauma. I’m dealing with women who are also trying to process that. At the same time, they’re grieving, too, because they’re grieving the person they were before that happened. You add a baby to it, and that makes the process even harder. Someone will reject the baby and all that stuff, or try to kill the baby, and things like that.
What I take on is being open and honest and not caring how somebody responds. I had to learn to be able to say my truth without worrying about what the response would be because I used to feel rejected.
When I open up and talk about grief or whatever, if your response is not what I want to hear, I used to feel rejected. You were talking about someone saying, “You were 36. You should be good.” That’s one of the examples. I caught myself because somebody lost a mother who was 96. I said, “She lived a good life,” and then I thought about it. That’s still your mama. It doesn’t matter how old she is. That’s an example. You feel like, “She did her time. You should be good.” That’s not true.
That is very true. If I hear you correctly, the rape and molestation is all packaged together in the grief of your mom.
I found out after my mom passed away that my mom also experienced it, but she never talked about it.
From the same person?
No, it wasn’t the same person, but she went through that and she kept it to herself. It caused the sickness. It caused her to be depressed, stressed, and sick because she kept all that bottled in. When my father told me, I was very angry. Knowing the spiritual aspects of things and how, if we told what happened, we could’ve avoided it from happening to us, because it eventually happened to us, too. We couldn’t talk about it. When I tried to talk to my mom about it, she didn’t want to hear it. Now, I know why. If she were able to talk about it, it would’ve made a big difference.
When you say the spiritual aspect of that, can you unpack that a little bit more, please?
Yeah. To me, it was more of a generational curse because I was able to trace it back to her mother’s mother. The women were getting raped and molested by their brothers, the uncles, and the grandfathers. There were a lot of men in the house. It explained why my mom was so overbearing. We grew up in a very strict home.
We were not allowed to spend time at other people’s houses, and nobody was allowed to spend time at our house. You couldn’t leave the yard. We had a fenced yard. You couldn’t leave. We would talk to somebody over the fence, and my mom would say, “Who is that?” My mom was very protective, not knowing that the people in the church that she trusted so much were the ones who were violating us.
That right there is a whole other piece of this. People leave their children somewhere that they think is trustworthy, and we find out it’s not. How has that impacted your interaction with the church?
When we're around our families—not everyone, but sometimes with certain family members—we don't feel comfortable opening up. But when I'm in that atmosphere in Africa, I don't have that problem. In that country, they make it easy for me to be… Share on XA lot, but that’s all I do. The church was all I knew. When I left my parents’ house and went off to college, I went buck wild, which is normal. I try to do everything that I was told I couldn’t do to say I tried it, which is very dangerous because I was reckless. I was raped when I was twelve. Since then, I became suicidal. I was a cutter. When I realized I was not going to die, I didn’t care what happened to me. I lived my life dangerously, not caring if I died or not, and not thinking I would even die anyway.
When you talk about cutting, can you explain why people cut or why you were cutting?
It takes the focus off the eternal pain and focuses on the physical pain. The physical pain began to become soothing. It started becoming your friend. After a while, you don’t feel the pain. It was about taking me to another place. I went to another place mentally.
What was the turning point? What was that pinnacle? What happened? What took place that caused this shift from not the church, but a relationship with God? What was the thing that took you from not wanting to be reckless anymore?
I had done so much damage to myself that I got tired of it, and I truly wanted to do right. I made a lot of decisions that I’m not proud of, and I wanted to turn it around. When I had my children, that changed me because it was so much responsibility. Me being a leader, I had to look out for all the siblings. I could not allow anything to happen to them. I had a chance to make their life better than mine, but then I became my mother, and I was overbearing, protective, and trying to keep everybody away.
That is a hard thing. How did you share with your children, or have you, about the abuse that you’ve experienced and the reason behind your overprotectiveness?
I was too transparent with my children from very early on. I remember studying rape and molestation with children, and they were saying if you didn’t say the actual body part, then you couldn’t win the case. It was back then in the ‘90s, I believe. It was children that was in court trying to fight the case of rape, but because they had a nickname for it, it didn’t pass. At a very young age, I told my children about having sex and stuff. My mom was against it because I was so open with them about their bodies and what nobody’s supposed to touch this and that. I prepared for a long time for that.
My dad was a police officer in Chicago. He was extremely blunt about the sex, the body parts, not naming something a kitty cat, but that’s a vagina, or not somebody’s dingling, but that’s somebody’s penis, and not to touch and not to do that. There was no Santa Claus. My dad made sure we knew he was bringing those Christmas gifts.
My dad, being a police officer in Chicago, saw things that he probably never wanted his children to have to experience. Life doesn’t make you in this safe space because that’s what you would want, because you have seen the most difficult parts of life. What we could do is prepare our children, that if that creeps into their life, how to be prepared. Better safe than sorry to me.
That’s what I told my mom. She was like, “They are too young.” I was like, “No, they’re not.” Look at it now. The kids are talking about everything as early as five, and I was doing it too soon?
If you were to talk to twelve-year-old you the day after this incident, what would you tell her?
“Go tell somebody.” Back then, we didn’t talk about it. I didn’t learn about sex until that happened. We didn’t talk about sex. I didn’t even know about my period until it happened on my thirteenth birthday, and I thought I was dying. I hid it all day. Country parents.
How did your period start? What happened? How did that day go? What do you remember?
On my thirteenth birthday, I woke up bloody, and I thought I had cut myself.
You wake up in a bed full of blood.
I went to the bathroom. I wiped myself, and there was blood there. I stuffed tissues down there and didn’t tell anybody. I thought I was dying because the cramps came. I kept stuffing it until, at the end of the day, I finally told my oldest sister. She laughed at me, and then she brought my mama into the room, and then they laughed at me. I was like, “I thought I was dying,” and I thought it was only going to be for that one day.
If only. That would be a gift if it were just for one day.
That’s how close-mouthed everybody was about everything. I had to teach all my sisters who were under me. I had to teach them everything.
They were not going to go into the dark with this one at all.
There were certain things I had to learn on my own, which is why I made the decisions I made. I didn’t know. It was trial and error.
Crying is part of grieving, but holding it together doesn’t mean you’re grieving correctly. It’s not about whether or not you cried. Some people simply don’t cry, and that’s okay. Grieving is about honoring the memory, loving the person, and staying… Share on XThat being said, if you weren’t being told that, how would you know?
I wouldn’t. My mom used the tools that she had. There weren’t that many tools, and I understood that. My mom only had a hoe and a rake.
When you think about your mom and you see who you are, what do you see in those two different visions?
Now that I know everything and all that she’s been holding and keeping to herself, like the secrets, because I hate secrets, I see her being this innocent person who needed help, but help was not provided for her. It makes me sad knowing that I could’ve helped her if she had talked to me about it. I would’ve gotten her somebody that she could talk to. I even went to school to be a surgeon because I wanted to find the cure for diabetes. My mom was a diabetic all my life, and I wanted to cure her. I wanted her to live longer. I forgot the question.
I asked you, and you answered. You’re fine. What made you want to have this conversation with me?
I don’t know. I haven’t talked about her, and I struggle to remember. I don’t want to forget everything, and because we don’t talk about it, I feel like I’m going to forget something. I had saved a voicemail in my email, and I accidentally deleted it. When I thought about my mom, I used to go and play it so I could listen to her call my name. We talked 10 to 20 times all day, every day. I could be at work, and I’d be like, “Mom, I have to work,” and she had to tell me something. I missed that. I’m rubbing my leg. My mom used to rub her leg.
You are your mother’s daughter.
That was devastating when I couldn’t. I don’t have anything to her voice anymore, so I felt like I was losing her again.
I can relate to that. When Mark passed, I had all these voicemails, all these texts, and all this other stuff. One night, I was looking at the pictures and listening to the voicemails, and then I woke up, and they were all gone. In the middle of the night, I pushed a button or did something and deleted our whole text thread and everything. I was a puddle of muck at the cell phone store trying to get this resolved, and how come they couldn’t fix this? It was hot garbage. That is such a gut-wrenching feeling, not having something to be able to hear their voice.
I reached out to my children and demanded that they send me all their videos or voice recordings of their dad because I was not going to be out here without it. I was going through some stuff, and I found old videos and different stuff. It was VHS, let’s be clear. I had to get them flipped over into CDs. It is hard. As we’re having this conversation now, are there any memories or thoughts of your mom that have surfaced that you haven’t visited in a while?
Yeah. My mind is going there.
Can you share some of those with us?
Okay. My mom had a puppy. Everywhere she went, he went. In the country, there are long driveways. We had a long driveway. My mom used to get on her bicycle and ride to the mailbox, and the dog was trucking along with her. One day, I happened to be looking out the window, and the dog ran in front of the bike. She went flying in the air, and the dog went flying in the air. It was a funny thing. I was by myself, so I was like, “Oh my God.” There was nobody there to share it with me. I laughed for a long time. I teased her when she got back. She thought nobody saw it. I said, “Mom, are you all right?” She was like, “What are you talking about?
She acted like it didn’t even happen. It’s good to be able to laugh and think about the fun times.
She loves that dog.
I am grateful for this conversation. You’ve held it together well.
I’m grateful, too. Thank you.
Finding Peace Through Expression
You’re welcome. I want to tell you this. Crying is part of grieving. Holding together that tension and that other stuff is not an award. It’s not a, “You’re grieving correctly because you didn’t cry today.” Some people are not criers. It’s not about crying. It’s about honoring the memory. It’s about honoring and loving the person. It’s about being true to who they are. This conversation, in a lot of different ways, honored your lived experience and who your mother was. I love the part about the conversation of what Ruth would tell you now and what you learned about what you’re doing.
She prayed into this, and I’m finally doing it. I’m making her proud.
Are you making you proud?
Yeah. I’m making myself proud, too, because it took a long time to get here.
You deserve it. I’ve asked you a lot of questions. Any questions for me?
Do you think you’ll ever stop grieving?
No. Grieving looks different on different days and in different moments. I was with my late husband for 32 years. I met Mark when I was eighteen. I don’t have a dress or a pair of shoes that I haven’t had for 32 years. 32 years of living my life with someone every day and doing life with them, that’s beyond possible that I will not miss him.
I have remarried, and I still keep my late husband’s last name. We had two children together. We were in the Army together. We traveled the world. I don’t want to forget him. I don’t want to stop grieving him. Grieving him may look like this. We wore the same shoe size. I wear a pair of his shoes and be like, “You wore these shoes. Our children are okay. I love you, Mark.”
We’re recording this on the last day of March. My husband passed from this world on March 11th, 2017. In March, I am mentally disassociated. I make a lot of mistakes. I’m like, “I need to check everything twice.” The body keeps score. It doesn’t mean that I’m an emotional wreck and devastated, but this time, a couple of years ago, I wasn’t bathing. Let’s be clear. It was not cool.
The way that grief looks now is that on March 11th, I will take off from work because I’m not doing that. My mind will start replaying what that day looked like. My grieving is fine because it was worth noticing that he is no longer in this world. Part of my grief has shown up in my supporting other people. This show and having this nonprofit is part of me paying forward what was the most horrific experience in my entire life.
Another reason why I do this is that I feel as if sometimes, people in our faith and our church mix scriptures together and don’t realize it’s supposed to take away my grief. The Bible says we do not grieve like those who do not have a hope, but it didn’t say I don’t grieve. It doesn’t say I don’t get to lament. That is so beyond that you think I would dismiss their existence. No way. I’m perfectly fine with it.
I’m soaking it all in. I’m reminiscing as you were speaking.
What came to mind?
I used to braid my mom’s hair every week before church on Sunday. She’s very simple. She would just want straight backs. I remember having a conversation with her like, “Mom, we need to change it up a little bit because we don’t want people to think you’re a lesbian.”
That’s an amazing hairstyle.
She had straight backs all the time, so I started putting pieces in the front so it won’t look like it’s all straight back.
Isn’t it interesting how now that would not be a thing, but back then in the time, there was a cultural limiting mind shift versus where we go after we learn? You said you were not even told about your menstrual cycle. As we learn different things, we realize how sheltered that mindset is.
My mom is very sheltered. She’s been with my dad ever since eighth grade. She has only been with him. She didn’t know anything. Hence, the five children. She didn’t know what a condom was.
It was all those different things. I have learned so much about you that I had no clue at all. I appreciate you being so open and transparent. I allow my guests to close out the conversation. I want to say something to our readers, and then the final words will come from you. Whatever you want to share. There are a lot of different things. I leave that up to you on how you want to wrap up this conversation. I want to say thank you for being a part of this conversation. I am sorry for the person that you have lost who has drawn you here, but I’m glad you found us. I hope to see you in the next episode.
Thank you so much. Thank you for creating a platform for someone to be able to express their grief. It’s so important. I know when I go to sleep, I’m going to remember this moment that I was able to share these things. I know God is going to show me even more about memories that I thought I lost. I’m looking forward to that part. Most importantly, I feel a sense of peace being able to express that. Thank you for listening.
You are so welcome.
