How I Coped With Loss After The Death Of My Step-Dad

*TRIGGER WARING* Before I start this post I want to issue a trigger warning. I do talk about my step-fathers death in detail and I don’t recommend reading this if you are sensitive of the topic of death, graphic details, and or suicide.

Hey guys, as some as you know on October 9th, 2019 I lost my step-father Frankie. The last time I had lost someone so close to me I was only six years old and when your six you don’t truly realize the severity of what death means, so when I lost Frankie that realization hit me like a wall of bricks. I was in my dorm room getting ready for bed when my mother called me, she told me that Frankie had passed away and I honestly thought it was a joke. My step-dad always liked to play pranks and he wasn’t ill, I had saw him on face-time the day before. I let out a small laugh and said your joking right? I could quickly realize by the way she looked at me that this was no joke and I quickly hung up the phone. I called my boyfriend hysterical crying at midnight I didn’t know what to do, and what was even worse was that I had to wake up for my class in four hours and put on a mask. My classmates were really supportive as well as my chef, everyone was surprised that I was “fine” but I was forced to be. In the culinary industry nobody cares if you lose someone, you have to suck it up go to work then cry about it when you get home, and that’s exactly what I did. As soon as class ended I quickly walked out and my friend Fox held me, I broke down in his arms.

I told Fox everything, that Frankie went into cardiac arrest behind the wheel of his car, he swerved into two lanes of traffic before hitting a brick wall and dying on impact. The car was crushed like an accordion, you could barely recognize it from what my mother told me. There was a zero precent frank would of survived that, and even if god himself had saved frank he would of been paralyzed for the rest of his life. I had to tell myself that death was better than that because he would of been miserable had a small glimpse of a miracle occurred. Frank’s death was incredibly hard on me because I couldn’t grieve I had to suck it up and go to class. I was lucky I was even allowed by my school to attend his funeral, at my school everyday you missed you dropped a letter grade since classes were only three-weeks. I remember crying to my academic advisor and her being so inconsiderate of my situation, but then again thats life right? I couldn’t have my gpa go down I had a scholarship I needed to keep. I cried at the thought of not being able to go to my step-fathers funeral, but my angel of a chef told me he didn’t want me to regret not going to my step-fathers funeral and that he would excuse me for the two days. I held back the tears as I thanked my chef, and I quickly packed up my belongs with Oscar my ESA behind me, and braced myself for one of the hardest moments of my life.

When I got home I saw how hard my brother and sister were taking the news. They were only 11, and had just lost their father five days after their birthday. It was traumatizing for them, especially because Frankie had dropped them off at babysitting service for the day, and 5-10 minutes after that he crashed. My siblings were 5-10 minutes away from dying with him, the day of the funeral was 100x worse than I imagined. I held back the tears as I saw his lifeless body sitting there. My mother made sure Frank looked like himself. He loved to wear jerseys and silver chains, he also loved to play scratch offs with me so we put some in his casket along with my uncles sunglasses which Frankie loved. Seeing Frank hit me hard, but I had to be strong for my family. My siblings and mother were hurting, and I hated that they would be without me for 5 months while I finished getting my degree. I comforted them as best as I could, I was overwhelmed at the support my community gave my family and I. Hundreds came together to donate, and help my family. Frankie was loved by the community, he always said hello to everyone and always was there to lend a helping hand.

Saying goodbye was hard, Frankie had raised me since I was eight years old. I was nineteen when he died, he raised me for eleven years and watched me grow up. He saw me fall in love, and he always talked about how he was gonna walk me down the aisle and see Joey and I have kids one day. Now he wasn’t going to be able to physically be there for those moments and it hurt. He wasn’t going to be at my college graduation to see me get the degree I almost committed suicide over. I remember all the times I thought I wasn’t going to graduate, I debated suicide multiple times and had to undergo multiple med changes and just when I had found the right med combination Frankie passed and I spiraled into depression, and anger. Yet I felt a burning passion to keep going, to make Frank proud, the day after he passed I went to my tattoo parlor and had them tattoo a saying Frank would tell me on my lower arm, so that whenever I felt like giving up I could look at it, and hear his voice telling me I could do it. My tattoo says “No matter what Amira, you can do it baby” and every time I read it I hear his voice. I remember holding the degree in my hand, and telling Frankie I did it. I cried, and I still cry sometimes.

I never got to grieve at school so once I moved back at home, I cried alone in my room asking god why did it have to be Frank. Then COVID-19 hit and I couldn’t find a job, so all I had on my mind was Frank’s passing. I remember seeing his grave for the first time, I wanted to drop down on my knees crying screaming why god why? Even to this day I still haven’t done that, It feels like something always stops me and tells me it’s going to be okay. Certain songs make me cry and think about Frank. Two songs that get me are Juicy- 2005 Remaster by The Notorious Remaster, and Empire State of Mind by Jay Z and Alicia Keys. Frank and I listened to these songs every car ride, every time I was upset or got into an argument with my mom Frankie would drive me to Brooklyn while we blasted these songs on the radio. They were our songs, and every time I hear them play on the radio or my playlist I cry, I take it as a sign that he’s there.

One thing I do know is that he’s doing great in heaven. How do I know you ask? I had a dream that he was at my graduation, he looked the same as the first day I met him and he was so happy practically beaming with joy. He held me, and I forgot he had even passed until something happened that made me realize it was a dream. He told me the jig was up, and that I figured out it was a dream. He said he wanted me to know he was there, and that’s why he created that dream because he wanted it to feel real, he said he was always there and that he loved me, he hugged me tight as I woke up crying. That was a sign to me, I never can forget that dream I cry thinking about it, but I’m so happy he did that for me. I like to text his number sometimes and tell him about my day and how I miss him, I talk to him at his grave and i still bake things for him to leave at his grave site. For fathers day I made him a mini cake, and when I saw him the next week the whole cake was gone but the cake board was exactly where I left it. I like to tell myself he ate it, no matter what anyone says.

Somedays I listen to our songs on purpose to relieve the memories even if they make me cry. I remember him for all the good things he did. I beat myself up for a long time because there were so many times where I was a crappy teenager who told him to stop bothering me. Everyone told me all teenagers do that, but I didn’t care that other people did it, I was upset because I did it and I shouldn’t of. I talked with Frank’s grave alone and told him how sorry I was, and how much I wanted to take it back. It took a long time to let-go of that, and some days I still get angry at myself for it. Somedays I sit down in my bed listen to our songs on repeat and have a cry session. It’s okay to grieve, it’s okay to get sad, but we can’t let those feelings of sadness, and guilt consume us. I know we wish we did things differently, all we can do is say sorry and make sure we don’t do it to somebody else. It’s okay to be angry, it’s okay to admit you need help. I still talk about Frank’s death with my therapist. Your love for the person you lose never dies, and I think that’s what were all afraid of . Were afraid well forget and move on, but know that you can move on and still carry your love for someone. You can still have the memories, when people say move on it doesn’t mean you have to forget about the person, and never think of them again its quite the opposite. What people mean is don’t let the sadness take control of your life, remember the good memories and that they would want you to be happy. Remember they are always there weather it be in a song, a photo, a memory. Love never dies when someone else does, it only grows stronger.

Photo Done By: @jesswangphoto