In the stillness of a September evening, my world shattered into a million pieces. It was September 9, 2023, when my beloved mother, Cornetha F. Armant, lost her battle with Ovarian Cancer. The pain that consumed me in that moment was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if the very fabric of my being had been torn asunder, leaving me adrift in a sea of grief and despair.
Just a week before her passing, my mother called my immediate family to share the news of her potential diagnosis. Despite the fear that gnawed at our hearts, we clung to faith in God, fervently praying that the doctors were wrong about this pre-diagnosis; and that this was just a cruel twist of fate. But fate had other plans. The next day, I found myself on a plane bound for New Orleans, my heart heavy with dread and much uncertainty.
Surprising my mother with my unexpected visit brought a fleeting moment of joy amidst the looming shadows of illness. She smiled through her pain, her eyes filled with love and gratitude. With my father, my sister, and my little cousin, Aubrey Jr., by her side, she rallied us for a group hug in the living room, all while holding back tears and vowing to beat this potential disease. In that moment, I cherished every precious second, knowing deep down that time was slipping through our fingers like grains of sand.
As the days passed, my mother's condition deteriorated rapidly. The vibrant woman who had always been my rock now lay frail and weak; her spirit undiminished but her body ravaged by disease. Each moment spent by her side felt like a lifetime, a bittersweet symphony of love and loss that echoed through the halls of the hospital.
On the fateful day of my mom’s passing, while the doctors worked to resuscitate her, my family and I stood by her hospital bed watching her slip away, her final breath a whisper in the weeping silence of the room. In that moment, a piece of me died alongside her, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. The days that followed were a blur of tears and anguish, as I grappled with the harsh reality of her absence.
Amid my grief, I found myself thrust into the role of planning her Homegoing Celebration. Drawing upon my professional skills, I threw myself into the task with a fervor born of desperation. It was a bittersweet experience, each decision tinged with sorrow as I navigated the delicate balance between honoring her memory and facing the harsh truth of her passing.
But as the final notes of her favorite hymn faded into the distance and the last mourner left the church and burial grounds, a profound sense of emptiness settled over me like a heavy shroud. The funeral planning that once blinded my agony had itself passed away, and now I had nowhere to burry my grief. The world seemed to stop spinning, frozen in a moment of silent mourning. It was then that the full weight of my loss crashed down upon me with the force of a tidal wave, leaving me gasping for air in its wake.
During my grief, I found solace in my faith and a newfound understanding of God's purpose. Through the depths of sorrow, I rediscovered a reservoir of strength and resilience that my mom, and my dad, had instilled within me. As I delved into the study of death, I began to unravel the mysteries of life, finding clarity and purpose in the midst of chaos.
I realized that life is fleeting, and every moment is precious. My mom’s life was a testament to the power of living with intention and purpose, touching countless lives with her kindness and generosity, as was evident by the hundreds of people who joined us in celebrating her life during her funeral. Her legacy of selflessness and compassion has inspired me to redouble my efforts in helping others find their purpose and fulfillment.
For the past six months, I've grappled with grief – feeling lost, alone, and adrift. But as time has passed, I've begun to emerge from the shadows of sorrow with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. I've learned to embrace life with open arms, cherishing each moment as a gift to be treasured.
As I stand on the threshold of a new chapter, I'm filled with hope and optimism for the future. My mother's spirit lives on within me, guiding me towards my true calling and inspiring me to make a difference in the lives of others. Though the pain of loss may never fully fade, I carry her memory in my heart, a beacon of light illuminating my path forward.
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