God Prepares Mother for Profound Losses
“Dear Father, this is the end, right? You’re showing me this is the end,” she cried...
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“Dear Father, this is the end, right? You’re showing me this is the end,” she cried... ~
Sobs wracked her body as the lyrics of Amazing Grace filled the sanctuary. The words told the truth of her story: The Lord hath promised good to me, His word my hope secures; He will my shield and portion be, As long as life endures. She had witnessed, in her 87 years of life, God’s grace through motherhood and loss. My grandmother, Ethel Kingston, is the epitome of strength. I wondered how–after all she’d been through–she was able to stand. Granny Ethel is the mother of eight children; four boys and four girls. After migrating from Guyana with three of her daughters (the rest of the children soon to arrive), she found work as a home attendant. Granny Ethel recounted her weekly routine of going into work on Monday mornings and finally coming home on Saturday mornings. Sundays were for relaxation and church. The family attended a small house church in Queens, New York where she accepted Jesus Christ into her heart. Looking back, she figured that she didn’t get baptized due to her fear of being dumped in the water. That all changed when her youngest child, Yonette, at 12 years old decided that she was going to be baptized. “I couldn’t go to watch my baby get baptized and I’m not baptized,” she explained. That was when Granny Ethel decided it was finally time. She asked Yonette if she would wait till the next baptism so that they could do it together, and they did.
Yonette’s relationship with God grew from then. Whenever my sister and I slept over by my aunt, we would have an epic movie night. When morning came, we woke up to the Christian channel TBN playing and my aunt praying. So when Yonette was diagnosed with breast cancer in her 30s, Granny Ethel had peace knowing that if she were to pass, Heaven would be her new home. Granny Ethel stated that Yonette used to pray, “Father don’t keep me suffering, ” if He couldn’t bring her back to the way she was. “I used to pray the same prayer for her,” she continued. Granny thought it selfish to want her daughter to stay alive and be in such pain, laying in her bed day after day. It was difficult for her to witness Yonette’s decline. Yet to those unaware of her diagnosis, Yonette was full of life. A few weeks prior to Yonette’s last hospitalization, she was moving up and down, flurrying around to help at her nephew’s birthday party. To many, it was a shock; they thought she was in the hospital as a result of an accident, not cancer.
On Election day, as Granny Ethel was on the bus, she had a strange feeling concerning her daughter. “Dear Father, this is the end, right? You’re showing me this is the end,” she cried as tears streamed down her face. While still on the bus, my father called asking where she was. Granny Ethel informed him of her whereabouts and revealed that she knew Yonette had died. He refused to confirm her thoughts; “No. No, she is not dead.” But Granny felt it. She felt it since the Sunday during her last hospital visit with my aunt. An elderly lady on the bus overheard the phone conversation and inquired about it. She encouraged Granny Ethel to trust her intuition because a mother always knows. Granny later reasoned that my dad didn’t want to give her the news while she was out in public, he’d rather her be at home. Little did he know, God had already prepared her for the loss. Yonette passed away on Election Day, November 6, 2012 at the age of 37. I can remember my mom softly coaxing me awake the next morning saying that my Auntie Yonette doesn’t feel pain anymore. At 13 years old, it took me a while to understand what she meant. On the day of my aunt’s funeral, Granny Ethel refused to let anyone hold her as she walked to view her daughter in the casket. She resolved that she would not be a wailing mother: “If I get up and I brawl off, would that bring her back?” she chuckled sadly. Looking into the casket she told Yonette, “Go with your new body ‘til we meet again.”
“I’m going out, but I’m not coming back.”
Ethel’s strength was again tried in 2016 when her eldest child, Gerald, was also diagnosed with cancer. Despite being paralyzed and “wheelchair bound” for many years after a car accident, he was the most joyful and carefree person. I would spend hours after school sitting on his bedroom floor, watching baseball games and shows on Animal Planet, while he laid in his bed. He’d be on the phone laughing with friends and family and helping them with their immigration papers. If there was a party, he’d be the best dressed person in the middle of the dance floor, spinning in his chair. Whenever his children were able to drive him to church, he’d be there. Cancer made all of those things harder.
At a point during his battle, Granny knew that he would die. She had a vivid dream that Uncle Gerald was in one of his outfits from “back home.” He wore nice khaki pants, a beige shirt, and a black and white yatin boots. In the dream he stood by the doorframe, watching her in her room and warned, “I’m going out, but I’m not coming back.” She knew in her heart that he was ready to go. At that time, he was still receiving care at our house. She prayed, “Dear Father, Gerald’s getting down and please when the nurse comes, let them call to take him to the hospital before he dies at home.” In the event that he would pass away at home, it would take days for his body to be transported to the funeral parlor. She didn’t want that for his two children, his siblings, and his nieces and nephews who lived in and frequented the house. When the attending nurse saw that my uncle’s condition worsened, he said that he would transfer Gerald to the hospital. Granny was glad as God answered her prayer. Family and friends were able to visit him there, still hopeful that he would recover. He was one of the strongest people we knew. But again, Granny knew he would pass. On January 13, 2017, four days shy of her birthday, her eldest child Gerald passed away at 58 years old.
Those were the hardest years for our family. I couldn’t imagine being a mother and having to bury two of my children. I asked my grandmother, what got her through those times. She replied, “There’s a difference when a person is sick at home suffering than when a person walks on the street and a stray bullet catches them or a car hits them.” She continued, “If I didn’t know where my children were going I would cry as someone who had no hope.” Though she experienced grief, their illnesses and deaths helped her grow closer to God. She doesn’t know how long she has left, but she knows her future is sealed in Heaven. Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.
It’s typical to feel a plethora of emotions towards God when dealing with loss. Granny Ethel’s response was gratitude. My response was indifference; although I didn’t want my aunt and uncle to die, I knew it was a possibility. I figured that God would do His will anyways, so I gave the smallest effort in my prayers for a miracle. I didn’t want to hope too much because the disappointment and grief would be unbearable. Ultimately, I didn’t want to question God. I was at my high school’s play rehearsal when my mom called to tell me that my uncle passed. After hanging up, I went right back to learning the dance routine. It wasn’t until his funeral that I understood the gravity of her announcement. I threw a fit, screaming, “No. No. No!” Disbelief and anger shook me, making it hard to breathe as my cousins tried to calm me down. Every now and then as I’m washing dishes, tears would come to my eyes when a memory sneaks up. Yet, I can’t bring myself to question God, because “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away” (Job 1:21). Even though I’ve accepted that Biblical truth, I know that God desires to hear my prayers and they do work! Thus, I’ll keep praying for miracles with my mustard seed faith, believing that God can prepare me, too–for whatever the outcome.
Prayer: Lord, You are wise. You know when to give and when to take away. I know that You are still a miracle worker even if I don’t get mine. May my faith increase and my response always be to bless Your name, in Jesus’ name, Amen.
Question: How have you dealt with the loss of a loved one? Did you feel prepared? How did you see God in those moments of grief? Comment below:
