When Everyone is Gone
By: Tanya Benson

This is a difficult story for me to share. I grew up the youngest in a family of four – mom, dad, brother and me.

As a child, I was my maternal grandfather’s little girl. He stood over six feet tall. I felt like I could do no wrong in his eyes. He always told me I was going to be a wonderful adult and have an admirable occupation. I never got tired of hearing him tell me this. Then, one morning, my grandmother kissed my grandfather on the head as he sat in his chair and walked to the corner to pick up the dry cleaning. She was gone fifteen minutes at the most. When she returned, my grandfather had passed away from a heart attack. I was 13 and my protector was gone. At least that is what it felt like.

Fast forward to adulthood. My very best friends were my mother and my grandmother. Talking with them every day warmed my heart, hearing their voices along with the ‘I love you’ at the end of the phone calls. We three were lucky enough to live in the same city, which allowed me to see my mother and grandmother at least three times a week. I cherished every moment with them.

Thirty days from turning 101 years old, I was with my grandmother when she passed away. She and I talked until she fell asleep. This was her choice. My grandmother finally joined my grandfather. A sense of peace fell over me while I envisioned what my life would be like without her.

My parents divorced when I was 18. I was very angry with my father for hurting my mother so much. It was at this point that I had decided to be her protector. We had always been close, but our loving relationship deepened, for which I am so grateful.

Unfortunately, I learned about cancer when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. My brother lived with my mother and took her to the chemo and radiation treatments. If he was busy with clients, I would be her transportation. She was in remission 4 years, 11 months when we received the news that the cancer had metastasized into her bones. The oncologist told us she could not be cured, but that she would be treated and should live without any difficulties. Awesome news…or so I thought.

My mother called me at 3 a.m. one morning in 2005 and told me my brother had died suddenly from a heart attack. All I could think about was what my mother needed. I moved in with her to help in any way possible, including taking her to chemotherapy treatments. She was doing well. We grew closer than I ever thought was possible. At her next oncology visit after my brother died, we received the devastating news that the cancer had metastasized to her liver. The oncologist told us that stress plays a huge part in cancer. I lost my mother just six short months after my brother died.

My best friend was gone, leaving a hole in my heart that hurt every time I took a breath. I was lost. Only my soulmate David kept me going. We married in 2004. Life was wonderful! I never knew such happiness.

On September 16, 2009, David was diagnosed with cancer…multiple myeloma. This was on the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death. I had never felt such emptiness.

Then my father died in 2010 - the end of my immediate family. Such loneliness filled me.

The next three years consisted of trips to MD Anderson in Houston every other month. David and I were so optimistic. We were going to beat his cancer! Then in July 2012, David started to not feel right. The next three months were spent in the hospital at MD Anderson. Another very rare primary cancer was diagnosed - renal cancer. He went on hospice and one week later, I lost the love of my life.

The holes in my heart from the passing of my grandfather, grandmother, brother, mother and father were ripped to shreds by David’s death. Everyone I loved had died. I had no children. Cousins and friends were with me constantly, but I was lonely even in a crowd.

I met Laurie Taylor of the Grief & Loss Center of North Texas at the lowest point in my life. I attended a 6-week workshop and monthly support group meetings for widows. In those meetings, I learned that it takes the brain at least six months to realize your loved one is not coming back. Through those meetings I also learned that the numbness I felt was normal and that grief bursts can happen at any time. One of the most important things I learned was that you grieve to the depth of your love. I honestly do not know where I would be if it weren’t for the Grief & Loss Center and Laurie.

Today, I do know that I am still a wife, daughter, granddaughter and sister. As David would say when he told me he loved me…“Always and Forever”!!