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Grief.
Defined as a feeling of anguish or distress that can occur after a significant loss, such as the death of a loved one.
While this is the definition of grief, it is far removed from telling someone the whole story about the word and what it truly means.
At its core, grief is an experience that is specific to the individual going through it.
No one can tell someone how they should grieve or how long they should grieve the loss of someone or something.
It is my firm belief that grief is a journey which has no clear direction or end point.
Enter my experience with my beloved mother, Martha Ann Jones Angelloz.
As of the date of this column, this world has been without this amazing soul for nearly six years.
Per what I said earlier, no one can tell you how to grieve or what that process looks like for you personally.
Everyone’s story is different and unique.
With this said, I will share some thoughts about my own journey dealing with the removal of a pivotal life force near and dear to me.
I have always been fascinated with how life seems to lay out before us like a series of dots that connect to each other in a way only God can understand.
My mom was born in New Orleans and put up for adoption right afterward.
My grandparents, her parents, raised her as an only child and my grandfather worked at McDermott in Morgan City for many years.
Eventually my mother met my father at LSU and a courtship ensued where their respective lives became intertwined as my dad pursued further education to ultimately become a child psychologist in Thibodaux.
My oldest brother was born in 1972, and eight years later along came this guy, yours truly.
From the minute my mom held me and grasped my little hand she was firmly planted in my corner.
It was the type of fandom that only a mom can provide a son.
Every step of the way my mom was there rooting me onward.
Through triumphs and heartache, she was there.
She was there to hug me, love me, and gently stroked her hand through my hair just because.
When I met my wife and told my mom shortly afterward that I was going to marry her, she threw her complete support behind her as well.
She knew right away that she genuinely loved me and that was enough.
As my life moved onward, so did my mom’s as she played the role of caretaker for my ailing father.
She was a woman whose strength was evident when she faced her own medical issues but always showed up and treasured moments with her small, but special family that she loved totally and completely.
Among the greatest gifts she imparted on to me was a sense of self-determination, empathy, and most of all compassion for my fellow man/woman.
She also taught me how to stand up for those who were being taken advantage of by lending an ear or speaking up for them if they lacked a voice in certain uncomfortable situations.
Outside of all this the main thing she did was make sure I had an amazing childhood devoid of the complications she knew life would eventually present.
When her medications for her lymphocytic leukemia stopped working and she was discharged from the hospital and put on hospice, I made the decision to move her back down to Thibodaux to live with us for the time she had left.
No one could have foreseen how quickly that process would transpire as she took a turn and was barely able to make it to our home in time.
All the preparations were made and my son even shuffled his little self to my in-laws spare bedroom next door so my mom could make use of his room for her final days/weeks.
The truth is time can be cruel and such was the case with my mom as she passed away soon after getting back to Thibodaux.
In one of the most remarkable experiences of my life, I was in the room with her by myself in her final moments.
I looked at her worried eyes, stroked her hair, and told her we would all be okay. I told her how great a mother she had been and how much we loved her. I told her I was there and she could rest. I grasped her hand as she took her final breath the same as I imagine she did as I began taking my first few when I was born.
If you have made it this far and are asking yourself if I am crying, yes, I am.
The truth is grieving never goes away.
I have followed the advice of someone I know who told me it is good to tap into your memories and revisit them occasionally.
When done in small doses, it can be quite therapeutic.
That same person also advised me that when you go there, you must visit only for a short time, as the longer you stay there the farther you drift away from the person you are trying to visit because grief can consume you if you let it and that is simply not what the people we left behind want us to do.
I continue to live with the unshakeable belief that the loved ones we lose in this world we will eventually be reunited with in the heavens above in our second act.
It is this faith that gives me solace as I await a joyous reunion with my mom, dad, grandparents, and all those special people I got to share my life with during my living years.
