03.26.25 Greif Becomes Her, Death Awaits

Published on 26 March 2025 at 14:45

Grief Becomes Her - Death Awaits Her   (NOT AI generated - all from my soul, memory, heart and healing journey) 

Hi - I am Tiffany Elizabeth Todd founder of Tiffany’s JAG Initiative 

     My mission is Justice Advocacy and Guidance for women, victims and survivors of Domestic/Family and Gun Violence.  Be sure to visit our website at www.tiffanysjaginitiative.com, Facebook, LinkedIn, BlueSky, X, Instagram and YouTube. In my 128 Blogs and 128 Podcasts I use pseudo names and sometimes the profession of whom I am speaking or writing about.  It protects the innocent, the unknowing and the unwilling; along with the family of the abusers and the family whose who enabled and assisted the perpetrators. 

     I was going to release my 128 Blog titled Dying in Sunshine but those who viewed or listened to my 128 Podcast 94 Harmonica Roar wanted to know more about my grandmother "Mildred".  Plus, I also read Dying In Sunshine to my “adopted by Love Mother, Rochele” and she said Tiffany, there will be a time when God will use what happened to you for good and He has greater purpose. There will be a time for you to tell the truth of what happened to you, and everyone involved, before and after.  You need to tell your story, and it will help other women and families. But I am just not so sure this is the right time to do it. I don’t think it is God’s time even though I know you want people to know the truth and your story.   Now “Rochele”, she is one of those people who has a direct line to Sweet Baby Jesus’ dad, so I have learned to be still, and listen to her and my Father. Fear not.  There is always another story to be told and questions to be answered that have yet to be asked. Onward to 128 Blog -Greif Becomes Her, Death Awaits Her

     It has been about 9 years since my grandfather "Lowell"passed away. Still to this day he is probably the biggest, strongest, and most silent man I ever personally knew. And I absolutely know for sure that he is with his heavenly Father.  I also never knew another man that was truly more dedicated to his religion more than my grandaddy. I never heard him cuss, never saw him drink, never smoke and never once ever mention or look at other women or refer to any woman's beauty or body.  There was no evil nor temptation of the Devil that he ever succumbed too. In fact, I think demons ran in fear from him and the Devil bowed his head in defeat.  Like in that song The Devil Went Down to Georgia - and he was looking for a soul to steal- instead Johnny defeated the Devil, just like my grandaddy “Lowell." His soul was never stained from temptation of the devil.  I have to admit though I always thought the devil’s fiddle playing was a whole heck of a lot better than Johnny’s and real fun to air fiddle along with.  But there is the falsehood in such thinking, the Devil’s temptations always seem the better choices, until they are not.

     On the day "Lowell" died my grandmother had a stroke, or at least that is what everyone thought, even in the hospital.  She was catatonic, no exaggeration.  I was at her side in the hospital and held her hand, giving her permission to leave us too.   I wanted to be selfish and tell her to fight. But her grief of being without her husband of 67.5 years had been too much for her earthly body and mind to handle.  She lay there in “Georgia Memorial Hospital”, a shell, void of any type of living except the rising and falling of her chest.  I grieved for her and her brokenness. Plans were being laid to waste and new ones in the work. Delay my grandfather's funeral? Or start planning for two? Grief had become her, and Death awaited her.  She slept next to death that day, sleeping in the pain of losing her forever and always. Although her heart was dying from brokenness, her soul was not meant for flight just yet.  Grief had become her, but death would have to await her.

     She is 94 now and can still make her harmonica roar. When I hear her play The Train, I revert back to a young -no-worries-in-the-world barefoot, Kool-Aid-stained mouth child.  I was able to spend an entire weekend with her but this time it was she who held my hand. I told my story about how grief had become me, and death awaited me.  She and I both know the feeling of sleeping beside Death.  The Devil in Georgia was still tempting “Johnnys” and but this time the Devil won the bet. The Devil's prize was not a golden fiddle but my life, my marriage and my family.  I did not marry a "Lowell" and thus I will not have my always and forever. Everything my grandfather stood for and embodied as a husband, well, I choose the mold not made by God. Grief had become my comfort and death waited 27 years then took the life I pretended to have.  

     This time I was the shell; the only sign I was living was my breathing. I looked into “Mildred’s” steel blue eyes, with folds of aged skin -almost covering her entire eyelashes. She was crying with me, barely able to squeeze my hand due to her aged bones.  She held me, trying to hug me so tight as if she could force the immense pain coming out for me so it could never return.  What pain I am referring to too. I call that pain, That Day.  On That Day, everyone would get to see behind the curtain; and on That Day she was the first and only person I called from the hospital.  And now I am with my grandmother about a year and a half later; after that curtain was pulled back for all to talk about and gawk at.  On That Day about a year and a half ago, I said goodbye to my yellow brick road. 

   In a voice shaky and full of my grief too, “Mildred” said to me Tiffany, I thought I was going to bury you, like "Lowell " and "Spivey ". I love you; you are my daughter.  I was her daughter in all meanings of the word. It wasn’t much of a choice for my grandmother, but a more of necessity, my mother had been murdered- shot, and my dad had been killed, buried alive. (another story, another time, another blog, another podcast).  I looked up and saw her tears. My Uncle "Hollywood" had the vapors while my grandmother’s best friend “Nita” was sitting there watching us with her arms folded as if holding herself. 

              Was I being selfish? Causing such hurt, recalling memories and moments that will never happen again. 

   

 My grandmother buried her husband of 67.5 years and her oldest son, my father "Spivey" was killed at 46. Her middle son, my uncle "Beech", was the reason we were spending the weekend together.  Uncle "Beech" is in an assisted living home almost 3 hours away from his mommy. Yes, He still calls her mommy and has her same blue eyes.  My Uncle "Beech" was always a little off as I heard people say growing up. He would probably be labeled as being on the Autistic spectrum today. Now, he is in a wheelchair, 3 hours away from his mommy, still drawing these amazing works of imagination and loves model trains. The home allows him to have a model train table set up in his room and he is so precious with them.  

 

            Am I being selfish again? My cup is running over with pain and spilling on everyone around me.

 

     My Uncle "Hollywood" has lived with my grandmother most of his life.  His birth was a treacherous one for both him and “Mildred.”  After “Hollywood” was laid on the table, my grandmother heard the nurse say the Baby is turning blue.   

What happened, what deprived his brain of oxygen for too long?  “Mildred” never got an answer to that question.  People were not so kind to him and called him retarded (I know it's not a word used today but that’s what I heard growing up). I liken him to Forrest Gump, but with a worse speech impediment.  When he talks 99.99% of people can’t understand a word he is saying.  Sorta like hearing someone talk underwater. Despite his betraying birth, he worked up the road at a greenhouse. Around Christmas time he would show up at all his friends and kins houses with the most beautiful poinsettias. His limitations have never stopped him. Facts: Uncle “Hollywood” has been married twice, driven all over the US, worked his entire life -never on disability, bought and sold vehicles. Uncle "Hollywood" made friends everywhere he went, even though some might call him mentally incompetent. I know for a fact that friends, strangers and family have and still take advantage of him.  He seems to be happy, and his laugh still fills a room. 

 

                      How can I be so selfish? When there is already enough pain to spread around

 

     I will not get to see what it is like somewhere over the rainbow. I have accepted that and embraced it.  Like Dorthey, I did have a violent storm tear through my life but not one of wind and rain. My storm did not appear from nowhere, but one that brewed and gathered strength for almost a decade. My storm left me to die, left me nothing to go home too, left me with scares you can see and most you cannot, my storm left me in a wheelchair and then my storm left me.  My storm left me without a family, without a marriage, without a home, without a job, without money, without a best friend, without without, without without without, without.

 

                             I WAS GRIEF AND DEATH WAS INVITED. So, don’t I get to be selfish?

 

    Why can’t I get make my sorrow more than anyone else in the room that weekend, more than “Nita’s” who unselfishly cooks, clean, and takes care of my uncle "Hollywood" and grandmother.  More than my uncle "Beech" who is in a wheelchair when I no longer need a wheelchair or walker.  Is my humiliation more than my Uncle “Hollywood’s” who has a family member, “Toah”, taking his money and making him go to them and ask for it. “Toah” is controlling the little bit of retirement funds he has .  It is sad, whittled down and degraded by having to ask “Toah” for what is rightfully his.  Is my grief more than my grandmother’s?  My grandmother who is 94, she is without "Lowell", left without "Spivey", without a son who can live on his own, without a son who is able to communicate with his world, without, without, without, without.  I can now feel safe in my home but does “Mildred?”  “Toah” & entourage came into my grandmother’s house, took whatever they wanted out and put in a burn barrel, well you can surmise that they burned and burned for hours.  "Toah" also told my grandmother how she was going to remodel her home after “Mildred” dies. “Mildred” has people waiting for her death.

 

                     And there I was being selfish, because I had become grief and death was awaiting me. 

 

     I can’t say that three-day weekend was an easy one: physically or mentally.  But I can say that even though I cried; I laughed more than I had tears fall.  I was able to graciously thank “Nita” for her endless love, friendship and care for my uncle and grandmother.  I was able to tell my grandmother about where I was living now and she was able to tell me Tiffany, I get to live with my best friend. How beautiful is that?

     Grief and I are more like frenemies now. Unfortunately, grief is part of the journey of being and feeling human.  For all of you engulfed in grief and waiting for death, let “Mildred” give you the same gift she gave. Find what makes you ROAR and be alive, in 2025 be ALIVE!  “Mildred” will be 95 this year, LIFE becomes her, and she can still make a harmonica ROAR! 

Stay rooted in love always, Tiffany   (NOT AI generated, all from my soul, memories, heart and 

You also refer to the resources link page on the website www.tiffanysjaginitiative.com 

Help lines and links for CAREGIVER SUPPORT

  • AARP Family Caregivers Discussion Group: A private Facebook group where you can join and find support.
  • Eldercare Locator: A hotline at 800-677-1116 that can help find services in your area.

Helpline numbers and websites for REPORTING FAMILY ABUSE

National Center on Elder Abuse National Center on Elder Abuse | ACL Administration for Community Living

To report the abuse, neglect, or exploitation of an older adult or a person with disabilities in Georgia, you can:

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