I Became An Orphan At 19

In my home country, Canada, 19 is the legal age. Just like many other countries, it’s usually a tradition you celebrate by buying your first drink and toasting to your adulthood. For me, my nineteenth year was devastating. I became an orphan.

Both my mom and my dad were H.I.V. Positive. I too am H.I.V Positive. (Being H.I.V. Positive means you have a virus that attacks your immune system and makes you very vulnerable to other diseases.)

Overall the relationships I had with my parents were very different. My dad and I just weren’t as close as I wish we had been. He lived in England and I had some underlying feelings towards him I had not resolved; neither helped in bringing us closer together.

This is why on January 2007, after we received that phone call telling us that my dad had passed away in the hospital, it was hard for me to believe. I didn’t bat an eye because I just couldn’t believe it was true.

I was 13 years old when he died. Too damn young. At the time, it didn’t feel real at all. I cried, but mostly for my older sister and mother who went straight into grieving. I believed I would speak to him again soon. It wasn’t until my sister and I traveled to England to go to his funeral that I realized — my father is dead. I cried that time, for myself.  We laid him to rest, said our goodbyes, and let him rest in peace.

After my father’s death, my mother played both parental roles while battling her own physical and mental health setbacks.

Years following, she was admitted to the hospital at different times, for different reasons, but she always came back home. Always.

I consider my mother a real life super hero. In late 2011 she was put into the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) and was sedated and non-responsive.

I can’t even tell you exactly what the problem was because the only thing I remember is the nurse telling us we had to start thinking about her quality of life. She even asked if my mother’s affairs were in order. Of all the times my mother had been in the hospital or gotten very sick (and there were quite a few times) we had never spoken of it in this manner. We never contemplated her dying as a possible outcome.

My older sister, who is also a superhero and one of the strongest women I know, needed to sit down in that moment. All we could do was go home, take it all in and pray. Ultimately we decided we would carry on with as much treatment as needed as my mother would have wanted.

But, then, my mother woke up. After being told her kidneys had failed, my mother’s kidneys repaired themselves. She returned home.

Remember when I said my mother was a super hero?

In June 2012 she returned to the hospital for a short stay due to some breathing problems. They gave her some oxygen and some medication and sent her home. Everything was okay.

One day in July 2012 my mother complained of chest pain and planned to see her doctor the next morning. The next morning  (specifically, during the night) she passed away at home. Her death ignited emotions in me I never knew existed and broke my heart into a thousand pieces.

At 19 years old, I became an orphan.

The pain I felt was harsh and instead of dealing with it, or talking about it, I buried it. I ignored it. I denied it.

I distanced myself from the world and stopped taking care of my own health. I put my own life in jeopardy. I had to come to terms with my parents’ deaths and ultimately find peace to be able to live in a world where they’re not.

As you imagine, it’s a difficult process but the most I’ve learned is that grieving is in fact natural for humans and very important when you’ve lost someone. I’m still grieving — I probably always will.  I will embrace grief, acknowledge it, and find peace. If not for myself, then for my parents. I think they’re proud.

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Too Damn Young