[12/4/17 3:37pm]
Mommy: What do you want for your birthday/Christmas?
Me: Oh, I been so busy with everything going on I haven’t thought about it… Give me a bit girllll….lol
[12/4/17 4:43pm]
Mommy: He’s gone. Come to the hospital.
I don’t deal with death well. I never have. I got exposed to it too early. Early, as in being in the womb.
At 1 month in the womb when my dad took his last breath.
At 6 when my godmother died of leukemia.
At 7 with my cousin Heather.
At 8 with my great grandmother.
At 20 with my grannie Sheila.
At 25 with My grandad.
The thought of death literally gives me anxiety attacks. Want to see me cry at the drop of a dime? ...(it’s actually not that hard)... Mention someone I love dying. I didn’t think I could be hit harder than at 30 when my grandfather passed away. I got the news in a hotel room in San Francisco. I was over 3000 miles from him and literally gasping for breathe on the floor that I couldn’t say goodbye to the most important man who has ever been in my life. After that, I was so hurt by that, I have had a slight disdain for San Fransisco. Every time I came back, I was reminded of one of the worst moments of my life. However, God has a petty sense of humor, and death has brought me back to San Francisco... to live.
My uncle was a gentle giant. He was sweet, was extremely active in the church, served in the army, and loved his whole family immensely. You saw his eyes smile before anything else, that was one of my favorite things about him. He was very composed and far from wild. He was very reserved, and if it wasn’t for us sharing a last name, you’d wonder how he was related to my loud ass. Hence why, we weren’t extremely close. We didn’t talk everyday, or have special “uncle and niece” outings. We were almost polar opposites. He had just come back from Antigua, just finished a regular uneventful Sunday dinner with my family, updating on family business that were left out of phone check-ins.... when he had a stroke in front of my family. A stroke that his body couldn't handle. A stroke that after 3 weeks in a coma... after 3 weeks of constant pleas to God from praying grandmothers, aunts, uncles, and friends, took him to our Lord. When I got to the hospital, I was actually composed. I comforted my aunt. I helped my mom make arrangements with the hospital staff. I was shocked at myself for my composure. I lowkey started to feel bad I was doing OK actually.
Then I got home.
Alone.
And in the dead of the night, sitting up in the dark, worrying about my mom and aunts and grandma, I imagined that smile that started at his eyes, and my whole chest spazzed.
I lost it. I cried for hours. I almost went to the hospital because I had cried so I made myself dizzy and hit my head on the corner of a wall. I was sure I had a concussion and sat on the floor of my apartment at 4am, but prayed I was OK because I couldn’t bring myself to the hospital and stress my family out anymore that night. I didn't even tell them (or anyone) about that night...
But why? I loved my uncle dearly and I missed him terribly, but why was this taking such a toll on me?
Then it hit me. My uncle was 57. My mom is 56. Shit, I am 32 and I STILL don’t know how all those years passed so quickly, so I know another 25 is gonna be here in no time. And in the grand scheme of things, all those ages don’t mean shit. When it’s your time to go, you can be 9 or 99, all that matters is the love you’ve given while here and the legacy you leave when you’re body is gone.
So, I asked myself, if I died today, what have I left? And I didn’t like the answer.
I have regular moments of imposter syndrome that's so crippling sometimes, I have anxiety to answer emails because I don’t want to sound dumb. I have literally stopped doing work because I wasn't sure if I COULD do the work. I have such bad fear of embarrassment at times, that I avoid events or phone calls *coughormencough*. My self doubt is crippling. It’s a constant fight I face, and if we are being quite honest, I don’t win very often. Then I remember one of the last things my uncle said to my mom about getting rich. “It’s too late for us, we have to rely on the kids now”.
I didn’t want to be alive saying it was “too late” for me, for anything. I decided that my Jesus year… 33.... I was going to make sure of that. I went out my comfort zone numerous times. I went on the trips, I started the podcast, I spoke on the panels, *coughIsentthenudescough*. I did the things that scared me shit less, and those things brought me to the scariest thing of all. An amazing new job at a company I admired, across the country and away from everything I love and hold dear. I cried... no bawled... throughout the whole process because this is the fear I didn’t see coming. This was multiple fears wrapped into one. I couldn’t deal.
But this is exactly what I signed up for. What I said I would push myself to overcome. This is why I am sitting in a hotel room in San Francisco (my furniture isn’t here yet), writing this as a new California resident. I remember being in bed, and I BEGGED God for Her favor. How could I be so ungrateful to question it because it didn't match my vision? It breaks my heart a little every hour to know the people I love the most are over 3,000 miles away from me. And my biggest fear is, God forbid, something happening to them and our last contact was a text or funny meme. That they didn't know how much I cared. That I'll never get to annoy them anymore and vice versa. I have to constantly fight writing 4 pages letter every hour in group chat, telling them I love them and how amazing they are and risk sounding crazier than they already think I am… but I had to go. I had to change how fear dictated my life. I had to change the answer to "what I am leaving behind?". I had to make sure that I never said “it’s too late for me”.
2018 was one of the most emotional, most trying, best years of my life. It owes me nothing and I owe it all to my uncle.
I pray every day that you are on this earth, you are doing something that you would be proud to leave behind. You aren’t letting fear navigate your path.
And when I die, I hope my legacy is I tried, no matter how imperfect (or scared) I was. And of course, Love.
xoxo, Sio
xoxo, Sio
Happy Homegoing Uncle Clyde.