Dear friends,
On November 15, at around 2:30 in the afternoon, my beloved mama took her final breath and completed her journey in this life. Her face looked peaceful, almost as if she’d been given a glimpse of eternal life itself. She had a gentle smile, her eyes closed in the calm of someone who’s finally been freed. And though I can barely find the words, I want to tell you her story and why I’m reaching out for help during this time.
Mama’s struggles started about three years ago, when she began experiencing swelling in her legs. At first, it would come and go, and we thought it was just something that would pass. But then, it didn’t pass. Her legs swelled more and more, and she began to lose the energy she once had.
This year, the swelling turned serious. She was diagnosed with cellulitis, and with the infection in her legs, she had to be hospitalized. I can’t even tell you how many times we thought, Maybe this is it. Maybe she’ll turn a corner this time. We wanted so badly to believe that every little improvement was a miracle, that each good day meant she was getting better. But her body had other plans. She developed a tumor on her shoulder that turned out to be cancerous. We had it removed, hoping that with it, her pain would lessen. But Mama’s battle wasn’t over.
Eventually, we found out she had liver cirrhosis. Her platelets plummeted, and fluid began to gather not only in her legs but throughout her body. When the fluid started pressing on her lungs, she struggled to breathe. I can still hear the words of the doctor that day: “We’ll need to intubate her… she may suffer multiple organ failure soon.” We feared the worst.
But Mama… oh, she fought. God allowed her to push through one last time. She made it home from the hospital on October 29. There were days where she seemed a bit stronger, and days where we all feared the end was near. Watching her struggle like that, waking up in the night with pain that didn’t let her sleep, was like watching someone fighting with everything they had, against odds they knew they couldn’t beat.
The pain of losing her is deep beyond words. Just days before, I had video-called her, and my son Caleb had told her to “get well soon,” bringing a smile to her face that I’ll always remember. When I saw her peaceful face in person, I knew she had finally found freedom. It was the first time in so long that I saw her without a shadow of pain. She looked beautiful, radiant even, a true gift from God that she could find such peace in her final moments.
One night, my papa heard her praying. She said, “If you will heal me, heal me soon. And if not, Lord… then please, don’t let me suffer long.” On her final night, I’m told she said, “thank you” in her prayer—a prayer of peace, of surrender.
On November 15, she became so dizzy and weak that she could barely hold her head up. She asked my aunt to help her lie down and closed her eyes to rest. That’s when she slipped away, peacefully, her suffering finally over. And in that moment, my papa called to tell us the news.
When I arrived, the house was filled with loved ones, all gathered to say goodbye. I looked at her face. And for the first time in years, Mama looked like herself again—calm, free of pain. She looked beautiful, even in her stillness, and I knew she was finally at peace.
While we’re heartbroken, we’re also grateful. Her suffering is over, and we have faith in God’s mercy. Mama was a daughter of the Most High, and she can confidently say, as the Apostle Paul did, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me” (2 Timothy 4:7-8). We hold on to the hope of Christ’s promise: “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live” (John 11:25-26).
I am certain Mama believed this with all her heart, and I look forward to seeing her again in the future resurrection, whole and free.
To everyone who has stood by us, who prayed for Mama and supported us through her hospital stays and her treatments, thank you. We felt every bit of love and strength you sent our way, and I cannot thank you enough for how you’ve held us up.
I share this because, though her suffering has ended, we’re facing the reality of her final expenses. She was hospitalized three times this year alone, and those costs—along with the funeral and burial expenses—have been overwhelming. We want to honor her memory and give her the peaceful farewell she deserves, but we simply cannot do it alone.
If you’re able to help, even just a little, it would mean so much to our family. Any amount, small or large, would be a blessing to us. No gift is too small. I know times are hard for everyone, and if you can’t give, I completely understand. But if you can, please know that your generosity will help us give her a beautiful, peaceful rest.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for caring, for listening, and for walking with us through this. May God bless you richly for your kindness.