On February 8, 2019, my Momma Beth (dad's sister) contacted me and told me that she needed to tell me something, but she wanted me to wake my husband because she needed his help with telling me what I needed to know. After a few minutes, I was capable of drawing a conclusion of my own, but I still wasn't ready for what she had to tell me. Some of the things she'd said, and the way she kept trying to get me to wake Jeremy, I was becoming a nervous wreck.
Finally, I said, "Look, I don't know exactly what's going on, but I'm not a dummy by a long shot, and those messages have me worried. I know daddy's heart isn't good, and I know he's not getting any younger. It's only fair that you tell me what it is you have to tell me, but you're going to have to tell me without any help from Jeremy. I won't be able to sit here and wait for him to wake up, and you have already said enough that I have to know what's going on before we end this conversation".
I'm told to take a seat. I had already been sitting. I thought I was ready to hear the news by myself like a big girl. Boy, oh boy was I wrong.
The next message that came across the screen of my Samsung Galaxy Note 8, stopped me in my tracks. My dad had been living under a bridge for a little over a year. The night before February 6, dad had laid down to get some sleep, but he did not wake up. From 2005 on, my dad had a bad ticker. He told me, "Hell, I thought I had a very severe case of heartburn. This happened twice in a year's period of time. When the pain went away, and I was still alive, I didn't think about it again. But, I should have been in the hospital because what I found out when I started going to the doctor was I had been experiencing a heart attack. And, when I didn't go to the hospital the first time, I left myself open for disaster".
Unfortunately, by the time I had the opportunity to talk to him face to face, I had already been told about the situation with his heart, but the way I found out was horrible. Due to the limitations of the app I'm using to share my story, I won't be able to tell you how I found out about my dad's heart, but let me just say this, 'Finding out that my dad's heart was half way ruined over the phone was about as disgusting as it gets. So, if you have to deliver that kind of news to your friend or family member, have the decency in your heart to tell them face to face. Don't ever think that news like that can be handled appropriately over the phone. That is not the kind of thing you should tell anyone over the phone'.
Two months and two days later, on April 9, 2019, I was delivered an even bigger blow when my mother-in-law stopped by the RV park Jeremy and I had put our 22' travel trailer in, and told me that my husband was dead. (I have chosen to leave out our actual exchange. I can't relive it again.)
In December of 2019, my nephew was murdered for the money in his pocket. That was a hard one to swallow because my oldest daughter and my nephew were best friends from the time I was 4 months pregnant with her. She didn't get to attend his funeral, and it'll be a cold day in Hades before she forgives his family.
April 14, 2020, I got a video chat from my oldest daughter. (I have to explain how rare it is that my children and I video chat. The last time she hit me up on video chat was the day I found out she was pregnant.) When I answered, my baby girl looked like she was going to fall apart at the seams, and I knew something wasn't right. Fighting back tears she's barely capable of saying, "Mom, he's gone. Wayne's dead". Wayne was my ex fiance, and my oldest daughter is his.
Approximately 10 days before that, I was told Wayne had stage 4 cancer in his back. The doctors were incapable of determining what form of cancer he had because he succumbed to it before they could set up a plan of action. He hadn't even celebrated his 50th birthday.
On May 31, 2020, I went to see my son at his dad's. We were celebrating the fact that his 19th birthday was on the 29th, and the next day on the 30th he'd graduated from high school. I had been talking to my mother who chose to tell me that my Momma Beth had passed away.
In February 2021, my friend, who was like a big sister to me, was attacked and killed by a pack of aggressive dogs. I don't know the specifics of what happened, and it's best that I don't.
I'm told that I'm a strong person because I experienced these losses, and (to everyone else) I looked like I was alright. Looks can be (and in this situation were) deceiving. I may have looked like I was alright on the outside, but on the inside I was dying, emotionally.
So, whomever it was that said, "Death comes in 3's" hasn't met me. Mine came by way of 2 sets of 3. I'm hoping that my having to deal with that much loss in such a short timeframe that the cosmos will give me a break for a while. I couldn't handle losing anyone else. Not any time soon.