My mind has been very unsettled lately.
Visions of KoKo dominate my thoughts. It seems as though everything I look at remind me of her. My youngest son blurts out at the most random moments "Mommy, KoKo died?" or "Mommy KoKo died." It's happened 5 times this week alone. It always causes silence in anyone within earshot. My man thinks him saying that is inappropriate. "He's too young" he reprimands every time he hears my son make the statement or ask the question. I don't think there's a problem with it personally. Death comes to us all eventually.
I've been getting light invisible caresses against my legs and shoulders recently. Some spiritual beliefs dictates that this is a sign that something is trying to contact you from the spirit world. That along with my renewed interest in SMA and other children that suffer and has died from the disease, makes me wonder if it's KoKo spirit making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Is it possible that God allows the souls that completes their cycle to revisit loved ones on the earthly plane? If that is the case I wish it was a little more obvious. I would love to see my baby walk towards me uninhibited by her human form. What do I need to do to make this happen? What candle do I need to light? What incense do I need to burn? What prayer do I need to recite or spell do I need to conjure? Just a few clear finite moments, please! That's all I ask.
When I walked into the hospital room that horrible night, I didn't feel her soul at all. My conscious mind looked at her and wanted to believe she was still earth bound, but my spirit knew the truth. I knew she was gone back to our creator. I knew that her life energy had become part of The One again. My soul and mind was also in agreement that somebody was accountable for her leaving me prematurely. Someone was a tool in my daughters demise and I began to hate her.
I looked for the nurse that was responsible for KoKo's well being while I was gone. When she saw me the fear in her eyes almost made me abandon my confronting her. For a split second I wondered if she had children and who was watching them while she worked. I ignored the thought, and interrogated her in a private room in the ER. All she did was repeat "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened" like a broken record, as she clutched the thick blue folder that held the nurses reports from the last few weeks. If I'd suspected she was going to leave without letting me know, I would've taken the folder from her to see if she had noted anything out of the ordinary.
I didn't know what to do. I felt so helpless and out of control. I couldn't, and still can't forgive myself for not being with Uwakokunre when she left this plane of existence. After I couldn't get any answers from the nurse and fighting the urge to put my hands around her neck, I left her alone in the room.
When I got back to the curtain my daughter was behind, I pulled it back to find some of my sisters in the room crying over KoKo's body. For some reason my tears dried up and my sisters seemed like strangers to me. I wondered why they where crying, what was they sad about. As many times as KoKo has been in the hospital, very few ever came to visit her. Trying to be compassionate in a situation that is foreign to most of my family, I pushed the thought aside.
My oldest daughter came in with tears in her eyes and her shoulders hunched over a few minutes later. I could tell she was hesitant and didn't want to believe she wouldn't see her sister again. She approached KoKo's body and kissed her on the cheek as she sobbed.
In the past when it came to her helping to take care of KoKo, I struggled on occasion with my eldest. I would get so angry when she forgot to change her sister, or put her feeding up when I told her to. Being the eldest myself, I couldn't understand how she didn't feel automatically responsible for her younger siblings. How could she look at her youngest damn near helpless sister and not want to make her life as comfortable as possible. Nonetheless I constantly explained the importance of KoKo's care to all of my other children, and I was sure with enough repetition one day it would stick.
My Mother looked very confused behind the tears streaming down her face. Though I knew she was at the house with the nurse, I didn't feel like she was responsible. I think I put her in a category with all of the children in the house titled 'doesn't know any better'.
As I write about what I was thinking that night, I feel like I was being judgmental. I don't think I was judging the people around me. I'm not one to judge so easily because I don't like to be judged. I think my anger was a little displaced and in actuality I was mad at EVERYBODY. None of these things really matter anymore, but at the time, they mattered so much. Maybe they shouldn't have.
I thought there would be more time for all of my children to develop a better sense of empathy and sympathy for their sister before the inevitable. I guess God decided that what they learned was sufficient. As for the rest of my family, I'm sure they had every intention to come visit the hospital the next time around. No one knew the next time would be the last.
As they say, we make plans and God laughs.
Visions of KoKo dominate my thoughts. It seems as though everything I look at remind me of her. My youngest son blurts out at the most random moments "Mommy, KoKo died?" or "Mommy KoKo died." It's happened 5 times this week alone. It always causes silence in anyone within earshot. My man thinks him saying that is inappropriate. "He's too young" he reprimands every time he hears my son make the statement or ask the question. I don't think there's a problem with it personally. Death comes to us all eventually.
I've been getting light invisible caresses against my legs and shoulders recently. Some spiritual beliefs dictates that this is a sign that something is trying to contact you from the spirit world. That along with my renewed interest in SMA and other children that suffer and has died from the disease, makes me wonder if it's KoKo spirit making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Is it possible that God allows the souls that completes their cycle to revisit loved ones on the earthly plane? If that is the case I wish it was a little more obvious. I would love to see my baby walk towards me uninhibited by her human form. What do I need to do to make this happen? What candle do I need to light? What incense do I need to burn? What prayer do I need to recite or spell do I need to conjure? Just a few clear finite moments, please! That's all I ask.
When I walked into the hospital room that horrible night, I didn't feel her soul at all. My conscious mind looked at her and wanted to believe she was still earth bound, but my spirit knew the truth. I knew she was gone back to our creator. I knew that her life energy had become part of The One again. My soul and mind was also in agreement that somebody was accountable for her leaving me prematurely. Someone was a tool in my daughters demise and I began to hate her.
I looked for the nurse that was responsible for KoKo's well being while I was gone. When she saw me the fear in her eyes almost made me abandon my confronting her. For a split second I wondered if she had children and who was watching them while she worked. I ignored the thought, and interrogated her in a private room in the ER. All she did was repeat "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened" like a broken record, as she clutched the thick blue folder that held the nurses reports from the last few weeks. If I'd suspected she was going to leave without letting me know, I would've taken the folder from her to see if she had noted anything out of the ordinary.
I didn't know what to do. I felt so helpless and out of control. I couldn't, and still can't forgive myself for not being with Uwakokunre when she left this plane of existence. After I couldn't get any answers from the nurse and fighting the urge to put my hands around her neck, I left her alone in the room.
When I got back to the curtain my daughter was behind, I pulled it back to find some of my sisters in the room crying over KoKo's body. For some reason my tears dried up and my sisters seemed like strangers to me. I wondered why they where crying, what was they sad about. As many times as KoKo has been in the hospital, very few ever came to visit her. Trying to be compassionate in a situation that is foreign to most of my family, I pushed the thought aside.
My oldest daughter came in with tears in her eyes and her shoulders hunched over a few minutes later. I could tell she was hesitant and didn't want to believe she wouldn't see her sister again. She approached KoKo's body and kissed her on the cheek as she sobbed.
In the past when it came to her helping to take care of KoKo, I struggled on occasion with my eldest. I would get so angry when she forgot to change her sister, or put her feeding up when I told her to. Being the eldest myself, I couldn't understand how she didn't feel automatically responsible for her younger siblings. How could she look at her youngest damn near helpless sister and not want to make her life as comfortable as possible. Nonetheless I constantly explained the importance of KoKo's care to all of my other children, and I was sure with enough repetition one day it would stick.
My Mother looked very confused behind the tears streaming down her face. Though I knew she was at the house with the nurse, I didn't feel like she was responsible. I think I put her in a category with all of the children in the house titled 'doesn't know any better'.
As I write about what I was thinking that night, I feel like I was being judgmental. I don't think I was judging the people around me. I'm not one to judge so easily because I don't like to be judged. I think my anger was a little displaced and in actuality I was mad at EVERYBODY. None of these things really matter anymore, but at the time, they mattered so much. Maybe they shouldn't have.
I thought there would be more time for all of my children to develop a better sense of empathy and sympathy for their sister before the inevitable. I guess God decided that what they learned was sufficient. As for the rest of my family, I'm sure they had every intention to come visit the hospital the next time around. No one knew the next time would be the last.
As they say, we make plans and God laughs.
