Burying My Mom At 21 Years Old

April 3, 2019 was the most earth-shattering day for me, as a person and for my family. It was on a Wednesday and I had my alarm set for 7:30 am for work, just like I always do. My alarm went off and my feet had just hit the floor when my phone started ringing. It was my grandpa. I knew instantly that something was wrong. I answer the phone and he says, “Good morning, Rylanne. I’m at your mom’s house with the girls. The girls couldn’t wake your mom up this morning and she’s not breathing. The ambulance is here and so are the police.” At that point, I didn’t know what to think. I called my boss and told her that I didn’t know what was going on but that my mom wasn’t breathing and I might be a couple of hours late to work. My grandpa called me and told me to meet him at WNJ to see my sisters. I’m on my way to the hospital and he calls me to tell me that there’s a change of plans and to meet them at his house. I think that’s when the doctors called her time of death and delivered the news that would shake my family to the core. I walk in his house and my sisters are in the kitchen crying and my grandpa wasn’t in the room. I hugged my sisters and told them that it would be okay. But how very, very wrong I was. My grandpa came in a few minutes later. He hugs me and then puts his arms around us. I was under the impression that we were going to pray over my mom and speak healing over her body. I was not prepared for the words that came out of his mouth. He said, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but they couldn’t revive your mom and she went to be with Jesus.” All I remember is falling to my knees and just being wrecked. My grandpa knelt beside me and with tears in his eyes, he kept telling me it was going to be okay and that he was so sorry. After about 5-10 minutes, I pulled myself together because I knew that my dad and my sister, Haylee, needed to know. I went outside and called my dad. He wasn’t answering so I kept trying repeatedly. He finally answered and I said “Hey, grandpa just updated us. Are you sitting down or somewhere by yourself?” and he just kept asking what was wrong. I couldn’t find the strength to formulate those words that I had a hard time even believing myself. I said, “Mom died a few minutes ago.” He didn’t believe me and kept asking me what I meant. I told him, “Please don’t make me say it again.” Telling my dad was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do and I won’t ever forget the shaking of his words and the crack in his voice as he began to process that the woman he once loved and has always loved was suddenly gone. At that point, Haylee was walking through the carport and I instantly started to panic. I hung up the phone and ran as fast as I could to the door. I tried so hard to beat her inside because I needed to be there. I needed to be there when her world fell apart, just as mine did 20 minutes prior. She walked in and I saw my grandpa put his arm around her and though, I didn’t hear the words that he said, I knew when he told her because I saw her body go limp. I made it inside the house, just in time, to catch her body before it hit the floor. Holding her and listening to her cries was so traumatic. It was almost like holding a shell of a broken person and I couldn’t fix her. I couldn’t fix anything that was happening that day.

The day seemed to drag on and on. It was by far the longest day to ever exist. Many people were in and out of the house and everything was foggy. I was in a stare and I was just numb. There was so much to do, so many arrangements to be made. The police were investigating to rule out foul play. And it was overwhelming for the rest of the day and every day after that. Phone calls were being made and everyone was trying to find their own ways to stay strong. My grandma was in Florida, on vacation, during this time. We were in the process of trying to get her home to us. She called me that day and was hysterical. I’ve never in my life heard my grandma that way. She kept apologizing for not being there and she kept saying, “It wasn’t supposed to end like this, Rylanne. This was not the plan. I need to be there for you girls. I’m not supposed to bury my daughter.” Those words will never leave my mind. I remember telling everyone I was going home to “get something” but really, all I wanted was to get away from everyone for just a few minutes. My plan was to go home, be by myself for a couple of minutes and return to my grandparents house to be with my family. But somehow I ended up on the floor of my bedroom, shaking and in a stare. I don’t know how long I was on my floor and I don’t know how I gathered the strength to get up.

We had planned the family night for Sunday night and the funeral for Monday morning to give the police time to close the investigation. My mom’s body was sent to Dallas to have an autopsy done so when her body finally came back to the funeral home, we were released to make arrangements. My grandparents, me and Haylee went to pick out her casket and ultimately, the decision came down to me and Haylee and that was something that we won’t forget. That same day, we also viewed her body to make sure her appearance was up to our standards. I remember walking in and having my breath taken from me, immediately. It was almost as if I was expecting to see someone else laying in the casket because how could that be my mom? I just remember standing over her and holding her hand and wishing that I could wake up from this nightmare, go hug my mom and make it all okay. We picked out the outfit that we wanted her to be buried in and when we took it the funeral home, we couldn’t use it because of the autopsy scar down her chest. It was back to her closet to find another outfit. There was not another one that we liked better than the first one. There was not another outfit that was good enough so we settled on one that none of us really wanted. I remember going shopping for my own outfit to wear for her funeral and I remember just getting so frustrated and breaking down in the middle of Kohl’s because I couldn’t settle on an outfit. There was not an outfit good enough to bury my mom in.

Family night came on Sunday, April 7, 2019. We arrived at the funeral home a little early and as my family came in, I held Preslie’s hand because she didn’t completely understand what we were doing there. We tried to explain it the best we could but as we rounded the corner, she became scared and jumped back and started crying. She refused to go any further. That’s when I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I stood in front of my mom the whole time and watched my family view their daughter, their sister, their mother and their aunt with such despair on their faces. The amount of people that poured in was overwhelming but I was so thankful that my mom was loved so much and that my family was surrounded by all of that love and encouragement. It seemed like that one hour dragged on with different people saying the same thing. As thankful as I was, all I wanted to do was just stand by my mom and look at her. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the cold, stiff and lifeless body laying, so peacefully in the casket we had picked out, was my mom.

The next day, April 8, 2019, was her funeral and I knew it would be the hardest day yet. I woke up crying and shaking that morning because I knew I would be putting my mom in the ground that day. One of my sweet friends brought me coffee and held me while I cried until it was time for me to leave. Something so small gave me so much strength for this day. Looking back on that week, I am so thankful for the people that CHOSE to be with me and endure every emotion I was feeling. Because of them, I didn’t feel as alone. Because of their strength, I was allowed to feel and hurt without restraints. They didn’t try to provide solutions to my grief but instead, they provided acknowledgement. They saw me in my sadness and held my hands while I stared in blinking horror, at the hole that was now my life. They sat with me while devastation and agony took over my body and they loved me anyway. They didn’t try to fix me but instead, they chose to carry me through it. To say I am thankful and overwhelmed with so much appreciation for those friends is a vast understatement. After my family had gathered, we walked into the church together. I was holding Preslie’s hand while holding back my own tears. We were all seated and honestly, it’s hard for me to remember anything that was said during the service. At the end, the casket was opened and every one formed a line and came to love on my family and view my mom. There were so many people. We stood there hugging guests for a little over 2 hours. As they all left, it was my family’s turn to have our last moments with my mom. Haylee and I stood over her and just sobbed. We both didn’t want to leave her side. I remember Haylee looking at me with tearstained cheeks and saying, “This is the worst day of our lives, Ry.” I wasn’t sure my heart could break any more but in that moment, I think it completely shattered. Shortly after that, my grandpa came up to me and said, “We need to leave soon. It’s time to say your final goodbyes to your mother.” At that moment, I saw black and I felt like my world was caving in, so intensely, and I couldn’t breathe. I felt trapped like someone was holding a pillow over my face or a rope around my neck. I held my mom’s hand and promised to make her proud of me. And then, I ran out of the room with a weight so heavy on my chest and the sound of my gasping for air was so deafening that I felt as though I was the one dying too. I knew that was the last time I would ever see my mom – in this body – on this earth. The body that hugged me. The body that spoke to me. The body that made me laugh. The body that held me. The body that held my mom would never be tangible or present in front of me again. The next thing we did was bury my mom at the cemetery. I rode with my family and I barely said a word all the way there. I had my sunglasses on and refused to take them off because of the amount of tears that were falling from my eyes. I was soaked in pain and sadness. It was deep, heavy and all over me and all I wanted was out. I felt like I was fighting a war that I had already lost. There is nothing that prepares you for that kind of pain. There is nothing that prepares you for the funeral that puts you on the front row. Burying my mom at 21 years old was more traumatic than I ever imagined. I feel as though my heart broke into a million pieces and the closest broom was a thousand miles away. As my sister pointed out before, that day will forever be etched in my heart as the worst and hardest day of my life. That was the day my world suddenly changed and I was not the same after that loss.