Seventeen

Seventeen. My mother was born on the 17th, died on the 17th and my father died just 17 weeks later. In a matter of months my entire life turned upside down and the one commonality that stuck out in my mind was the number seventeen.
 
It was August 17th, 2016 and at 4:05pm I stood over my mother’s comatose body as she took her last breath at the age of 65. I was a certified Momma’s Baby, who in a matter of seconds became the woman my mother raised me to be. Managing properties, taking care of my father, balancing my own jobs, and going to school full time became my regiment. Atlanta during the week and North Carolina on weekends was my weekly itinerary. But in a weird, very Type-A kind of way, staying busy was my therapy. I had to keep pushing because there was business to be taken care of and I had a father who depended on me greatly. The busier I was, the less I time I had to focus on the loss; the busier I was, the more forced I felt to get out of bed each morning.
 
It was December 11th, 2016 at 3:45am when I got the call that my father passed. I’d left him just three hours prior as I’d felt an overwhelming peace to “go home.” In a way, I knew that was the last time I would see him; I knew it was the last time I would hear him breathing. I also knew that my father was not going to make the transition with anyone around, not even me. He was a “manly man” and a “proud” man. We’d been through a lot together in the weeks and months prior, but this last move was one he’d have to make without me.
 
Less than 3 hours after I left my father, I received the call. “Kiya, this is Jenny from Hospice,” she said in a sure tone, “Your dad passed 5 minutes ago at 3:40am.” Although his death was anticipated days before, it still hit me like a punch in the stomach. My heart raced out of my chest and I laid there staring at my phone. Tears did not come nor did I scream, I just laid there.  I called my sister to make arrangements to meet the next day. I turned on my lamp and I sat there…for hours I sat there just as I’d sat 17 weeks prior trying to make sense of God's plan.
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That is what this blog is, it is a sneak peak into the way that God has allowed me to make sense of the loss of my parents. Though I wish this pain on no one, I hope that through my words you may find words of your own; that through my voice you may find a voice to your hurt that leads you closer to Christ.