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Dad kept on. “I hate that you carry my last name and my blood. I hate you!” He yelled before stomping off sobbing.
Jeremiah and Leann wanted to pity me. I didn’t need it. I already felt lower than low. My mom died while I was out doing the thing she despised most. I’ll never forgive myself for that. Dad didn’t need to beat me with his words. The agony burning my chest was killing me worse.
“Call me when you start planning her funeral.” I left out numb and broken. Hurt and defeated.
* * *
I drove home replaying everything. From seeing my mom smiling this morning to seeing her lying cold and dead. Hearing my father speak out loud that he wished I was dead. His disgust in me reached a new level. A level of no turning back.
When I got home I fixed my signature drink - sprite, black cherry Kool-Aid, promethazine, codeine, a few splashes of Nyquil, and four apple jolly ranchers. I sat in the dark of my condo, suffocated by my silence, trying to drink my pain away. Riches and wealth surrounded me. Had more zeros than any man should be trusted with, yet it couldn’t buy anything to fix my problems.
It couldn’t bring my mother back.
It couldn’t make my father love me.
It couldn’t change who I was.
A cup and a half later, I was spiraling. Rod Wave blaring through my surround speakers. Sky Priorities and Tombstone on repeat. Smoking and drinking. I woke up the next morning sobbing until I made myself sick. Curled in a ball on my living room floor, begging God to give me my mama back. That whole day, I drank and smoked until I passed out. Day three I got out when my brother called and told me that they were making the funeral plans at my parent’s house. The dark cloud around me got darker when my dad reached another level of low by calling the cops on me.
He wanted me nowhere around “his house”. He didn’t want me at the funeral. His pussy ass actually called the cops on me. Leann cussed him out good and Jeremiah looked defeated. Trying to grieve the passing of mom while refereeing between me and dad.
I left without a fight.
I equated the pain in my stomach as a part of my world collapsing and not hunger. My favorite drink and the strongest weed were my nutrients of choice. That’s all I did. Drink, smoke, and fucking cry. My brother called, but I didn’t want to burden him with my shit. These dark fucking clouds were a motherfucker to try to breathe through. Hadn’t had a nightmare since my mom died. Those demons weren’t after me anymore because I was slowly killing myself.
Twirling my nine millimeter in my hand, I stared at my phone. All I wanted was a lifeline. Someone to tell me that this pain wouldn’t last always. That I was going to get through this. That my mom didn’t die hating me. I found no purpose in living as the minutes and hours passed.
I wanted to call my Sunnie Mae. I needed her, but she too was grieving the loss of a loved one and I didn’t want to burden her with my shit.
My body was riddled with pain. I ached from the heartache of losing my mom. I was lost and wounded. I lost both of my parents on the same day. Shit was rough and I was six rounds into Russian Rullete, hoping and praying that the next trigger pulled would be my end. I only had one bullet in the chamber, not even flinching when I pulled the trigger.
Right before I pulled the trigger again, my phone rang. It was my Sunnie Mae. A new wave of warm tears rocked my body seeing her name. I wanted to answer the phone, but I didn’t want her to see me like this. Weak. Hurting. Useless. She called back again, and I answered her Facetime call. Her beautiful face and smile took up the screen. It was like love at first glance all over again. Staring in her eyes, feeling the love of her smile through the phone. My heart wasn’t hurting as bad.
“Ezekiel, what’s wrong?” Seeing my wounded state, her smile fell, and worry coated her hazelnut face.
“She’s gone, Sunnie Mae. My mama is gone.” I felt like I had to throw up from all the hard crying I’d been doing. Even when I tore my knee I barely cried. But this, losing my mama, I cried from the depths of my soul.
“Oh my god.” Gasping, Sunnie covered her mouth as her pretty brown eyes misted with tears.
“My dad said he wishes I was never born. He hates me. That motherfucker called the cops on me yesterday. Can you believe he banned me from my mama’s house? A house I’ve been paying the mortgage on. He doesn’t even want me at the funeral.” I scratched my head with the butt of my gun. “I hurt my mama, Sunnie. All she wanted was for me to change my life and live right. I hurt her. I broke her heart. I’m useless.”
Angry all over again, I healed the gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Sunnie screamed so loud that I dropped the gun. Wherever she was, she pushed people out of the way until she was in a hallway sobbing. Crying harder than I was a minute ago. I don’t know why I was stunned by her reaction, but I couldn’t move. I sat there watching her painfully unravel.
Then she did the unthinkable.
“Dear God, at the sound of my voice, I plead the blood of Jesus over Ezekiel and his mind. Father God, I bind the spirit of suicidal thoughts. God, break every demonic assignment of the enemy that is trying to kill him. Father God, I need you to send your mighty warring angels and fight for him, God. Heal his heart as he grieves the mourning of his mother. Strengthen his mind and heart. God, I decree and declare…”
I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
I don’t know what part of the country Sunnie was in, but she was out in the midst of people, and she stopped what she was doing to get on her knees and pray for me. She literally dropped her phone and bags and was praying heaven down on my behalf. Sobbing and weeping. Speaking in tongues and fighting for me in prayer.
I stared at this woman in awe.
No longer was my heart racing and on the verge of beating out of my chest. I felt a calmness engulf me and a peace settled in my heart. My shoulders relaxed and my mind was at ease.
“In Jesus might name, amen.” She cried more until she picked up the phone and glared at me. “Disrespectfully so, fuck your daddy and his Mr. Winslow-looking ass.” She grumbled, picking up her things.
I couldn’t help it. I chuckled, hearing her cuss my daddy out. “You prayed for me.” I was in love. I was grateful and felt nothing but adoration and gratitude for her selflessness. For going to war on my behalf. No one outside of my mom had ever done that for me.
