The Unavoidable by Tamika Taverne ('24)

Death is unavoidable, with no way back, and is incredibly painful for those left behind to mourn. This was particularly true after my mother passed away. Because I was unprepared for her death, losing her was one of the most difficult experiences of my life. I can still remember the moment leading up to my mother’s death. My relationship with my mother was not the best, at least from my perspective. My birth mother was dark-skinned and plus-size. She was the same height as me 5’5”, lived a couple of hours away from me, and from the time I could remember, I can count on my fingers how many times I had seen her, without counting the earthquake in Haiti in 2010 when I had to live with her for two months. That was the longest I had spent with her. I was raised by my aunt who I call “mom” to this day, but still, the day I received the news of my birth mother’s death was one of the hardest days of my life. 

I knew that my mother did not have the money to take care of me. So every time people would say something bad about my mother I would defend her telling them that the only reason she is not here with me was because that she could not; not because she did not want to be. But as I grew up I began to develop a resentment towards her. 

Over time I began to feel neutral about the situation. Since I had not seen her for a long time, when I would see her it was like meeting a stranger. I would go visit her every summer. It would be so awkward that I didn’t know how to act around her or talk to her, so much so I couldn't wait to leave. But oddly every time I would see her, after leaving my heart would feel heavier, my throat drier, my hands sweatier, and I would end up crying. It’s like the love I had for her, that over the years, I managed to push deep down, had surfaced. 

In my car, my cousin looked at me and he said: “What’s wrong with you?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel emotional,” I said. 

“You don’t even really know her.” 

”You have a point but every time I see her it’s just… ” 

He took his eye off the road for a second and looked at me and said, “It’s just what?”

I sighed and responded, “ I don’t know, can we not talk about it anymore?” 

“Ok, but let's say this first. Even if you feel like you are not close to her, a mother and daughter bond, it’s always there no matter what.” 

I did not process his words till after my mother passed away. The day before, or hours before my mother passed, I saw her. I was not asleep. She was in front of me. Her skin was glowing. She looked healthier than the last time I saw her. She was wearing a denim skirt and the yellow blouse that I got for her. Her hair was short and curly, and it looked like she cut it and I thought, good for her because she’d always wanted to cut her hair. Her smile was so bright, like she was genuinely happy. I could still see the faint outline of wrinkles around her eyes—eyes which seemed to sparkle ever so much that it brightened the whole room. Even seeing her so happy I felt very confused and speechless and she said “I’m sorry” and I kept repeating: “Why, why? What are you sorry for?” She vanished but I spent the rest of my day thinking about it. The next morning on July 2nd, waking up feeling under the weather and with an unbearable migraine, I got dressed. I was heading out when I got a call from my dad.

“Hey, how are you doing? How did you sleep?” he asked. 

“Good,” I answered, feeling oddly suspicious of the call. 

“Are you on your way to school?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can you take a seat for a second?” 

“Sure,” I answered him but did not comply but I should have. 

“Last night your mom at the hospital flatlined and could not be revived.” 

“What does that mean?” I asked, clearly knowing what it meant but wanting to hear him say it. 

“I’m sorry, she’s dead,” he answered sympathetically. 

In that moment of shock: Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. I heard it as the phone I was holding fell on the ground, It was loud but it seemed far away. I started hysterically and uncontrollably laughing, It went on for a whole hour. No one was surprised because that was usually my initial reaction to death but it never went on for that long. I could hear whispers as my family discussed my well-being but their voices started to fade away as I was reminded of my last conversation with my cousin regarding my mother. On June 29, my cousin called me telling me that my mother had a stroke and asked if I was going to come to visit her. My answer to him was to ask if she had ever come to visit me when I was sick. 

Looking back on the situation, there was nothing for which to prepare; she had only been fifty-one years old. I did not know that this would be the last thing I spoke about using her name. Her sudden death, which came sans notice, was terrible. She was gone in an instant. Even though she was not active in my life, losing her still felt like a big loss. But the thought of knowing she 

was somewhere in the world was still comforting, like I had a creator, a mother, but her being

gone and… it was official: I did not have a mother. This truth hit me like a ton of bricks: she was no longer on this planet, and my life would never be the same again. 

After my mother's funeral, I kept seeing glimpses of her but thought I was just out of my mind. It was a period when I was completely depressed, irritable, and unable to enjoy my favorite hobbies. The thought of death became a recurring scene in my mind. I was alone in my room, surrounded by four walls, with my earphones on, always listening to music. And I saw her. I wasn’t expecting to see her, considering that she died. My breath stuck in my throat mid-inhale and I clung to the sheet of my bed and blinked my eyes as I waited for her to disappear. She did not. But instead, she pushed my feet to make space as she sat down on my bed and I pulled my feet in crisscrossed. 

"It's okay," she assured me. 

But was it? I was trapped in my room on the little corner of my bed staring at my dead mother. What should I do? I worried. I'm not sure what the protocol is for these things. Should I say hello and pretend we've been friends for a long time? Should I hug her petite frame like we are loved ones? Or should I start wagging my finger with accusations of rejection, abandonment, and betrayal? None of those felt right or even possible but I managed to scoot over and hug her. When I got close enough, I took a deep breath and breathed deeply, smelling flowers and herbs that she used to drink before passing away. I hugged her and I started bawling my eyes out. I felt emotional because I needed her and she was there, and at this moment, I felt the gap in our relationship start to pull closer together. She kept saying “I’m sorry” over and over again. I took a deep breath and let go and looked at her, waiting for her to continue and she said again: “ I’m sorry, I was never there for you, especially when you needed me.”

I stayed quiet, in awe and thinking how I would have loved to hear this when she was alive. 

She looked at me again and said: “I’m sorry that I’m not perfect and I’ve never claimed to be, I have made a lot of mistakes in my life but you were never one of them, I’m so sorry I was never able to show you that.” 

When she said that, all the anger I had surfaced and I responded: “Why couldn’t you? Was I not what you expected? Was I not worthy of a mother’s lover? Was I not good enough?” She looked at me as if I just slapped her and I thought that was not even half of the pain I’d felt. She took a deep breath and said: “I love you very much. I will always love you and you will always be my baby. I’m sorry that your father and I couldn’t make it work. I’m sorry that I took it out on you. You were a baby with no part in it. I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me the most. I see how painful that has been for you. I am sorry that I failed you and did not provide what you needed to feel loved.” 

And the moment that I was going to speak, she vanished. 

I was sobbing because after all those years my feelings were finally acknowledged and validated. I wanted to be at peace with myself and her and came to the realization that in order to do so, I had to allow myself to end the war between hurt, helplessness, confusion, guilt, resentment, and fury. I realized how those feelings had held me hostage for so long. 

I allowed myself the time to mourn my loss, to be patient and compassionate with myself. I understood that even though it was extremely painful to have a mother like her and that, while I did not have a consistently loving and nurturing mom who makes me feel safe, part of my healing was learning how to provide for myself.

After the work that I’ve done on myself, one night I was to say the words I did not think would be in the same sentence: “ I forgive you mom.” Saying those words was so liberating, she then appeared and we hugged. 

Even since my relationship with my mom has really improved and has never been better. She visited me often, helped me overcome my suicidal thoughts, my want to give up. One of the moments that I will never forget was the day of my graduation. She came to visit me and said, “Even if I was not part of it, I could not be prouder of everything you have done, and it has been a pleasure to see you evolve into the incredible young woman you are.” 

The loss of someone is never easy and is one of the most painful things that one could experience. I would not wish for anyone to experience the loss of a loved one. Death is a sad event. It's one of the worst things to ever experience. You're left feeling empty and wondering if you'll ever be able to go on. But I am in a very selfish way thankful for it. If my mother had not passed away, I probably would never have had a relationship with her. The unavoidable gave me back my mom.