Aisha Adkins

As you learned in my last post, my mother died one week ago today. As fresh as her passing is, I cannot say that I fully feel the impact of our loss, but one word I’d used to describe my initial feelings is relief. Relief that her suffering has ended. Relief that the arduous work of caring for someone with dementia is done. Relief that I can live a somewhat “normal” life as my mother intended me to experience when she gave birth to me nearly 4 decades ago.

How are you feeling?

According to one of my therapists, “It’s okay if relief is the predominant feeling you have for a while.” I cannot thank her enough for saying this. In a society where we equate death solely with sadness, it can feel taboo to express relief after a loved one – especially a parent – dies. But I refuse to guilt myself into sadness. That’s not what my mother would want.

Of course, following the death of a loved one, it’s natural for people to ask how you’re feeling. I typically tell people “I’m okay – today.” I understand fully that emotions ebb and flow and grief is nonlinear. Today, I’m okay, but tomorrow I could be completely unhinged. Similar to the ambiguous grief I experienced during the last decade since her diagnosis, “grief” grief will show up in a number of expected and unexpected ways. I will employ all of my coping mechanisms – my faith practice, mindfulness, therapy, water consumption, exercise, crying, and reaching out to those who’ve shown up and continue to support me.

What now?

Before my mom reached the final stages of her battle with frontotemporal dementia, she occasionally recognized the toll caring for her and my dad took on my mental and physical health. She often expressed her fear that they were holding me back from living a full life. However, when, on occasion, I went on a business trip, she reveled in my travels and told me “I just want to see you fly.”

Sure, she enjoyed knowing that I traveled sometimes for work or a periodic side gig, but she also wanted to see me spread my metaphorical wings, achieving all of the goals I set for myself and simply exploring all life has to offer. So, in honoring my mother, I am creating intentional moments to fly. In the coming months, I will be traveling for professional and personal reasons. I look at all of these trips as opportunities for growth, healing, and development. I know my mom will be with me wherever I go.

What’s Next?

Some people wonder if my caregiving journey has come to an end. It has not. I will continue to provide care for my father (though his level of need right now is not nearly as high as my mother’s was). As a member of the caregiver community, I will continue to participate in community care through my work and voluntary spaces.

In the future, I hope to continue my education, expand my personal platform, speak on larger stages, and connect with new and old friends across the U.S. and around the world. With an expansion of my lived experience, I hope to share what I have learned with new audiences and make a lasting impact in new ways. I want to explore my creativity and engage in collaborative storytelling. I want to make space for rest and healing.

Whatever the future holds, I know that I will make my mother proud of my accomplishments and will remember her wisdom when I inevitably make mistakes. Grief is a process and life is a journey. I cannot wait to see where my wings will take me first…