Not even sure where to start.
I can’t even tell you when I started breaking.
Maybe it was 2014—that was a heartbreaking year. That year we lost Aunt Irene. Then Grandma Wilkins. And then… July 25th.
Miles and I were headed to work when we got a call. Honestly, it’s a blur now—I’m not even sure who called me that morning. They said Mom had been rushed to Big Baptist with stroke-like symptoms.
We arrived shortly after 8 AM. Dad wasn’t there yet, so we walked into the ER entrance and told them we were there for Mom. We waited. A few minutes later, Dad arrived.
Not long after that, a nurse—at least I think it was a nurse—came out and asked us to come into a different waiting area. It was more private. The lights were dim.
Thinking back now, I should’ve known that wasn’t a good sign.
It felt like forever before they finally took us to where Mom was. I can’t even remember if the area was fully private—were there doors? I know there was a curtain.
When we walked in, there she was. Lying there. Tubes, cords, a breathing machine… She was unresponsive.
Dad was there. Miles. Staci. Eric.
A doctor came in—I think it was around 10 AM. He tried to wake her up. Shaking her. Calling her name. Yelling, almost. Nothing.
When she didn’t respond, he turned to us and said, “She should be waking up by now.”
Jodi and James arrived after noon, and by then they were moving her to ICU. Hours passed. I think Dad called Mom’s siblings, because family slowly began pouring into that little waiting room.
By 7 PM that evening, they gave us the news:
Mom had a stroke, and it caused a ruptured blood vessel in her brain.
At 7:21 PM, July 25th, 2014…
We turned off the machines.
She slipped away.
My wonderful mother was only 67.
She was my best friend.
My biggest supporter.
My loudest cheerleader.
She taught me everything—from how to wash my face to how I deserved to be treated and loved. She ruled us with structure and love. Her and Dad raised us to know right from wrong, and to treat people with respect.
Driving home, I couldn’t believe she was gone.
I had just talked to her the day before.
You never know when life will throw you a curveball that changes everything.
We got home, gathered our five boys, hugged them tightly, and tried—gently—to explain the hell we had just walked through that day.
We didn’t know what the next few days would look like, but we told the boys to pack a night’s worth of clothes.
We got back in the car and drove to Mom and Dad’s.
#BrokenButBelieving #StillStanding #GriefJourney #HealingOutLoud #LifeAfterLoss #FaithThroughItAll #WoundedButWorthy #TellYourStory #YouAreNotAlone #WritingToHeal
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