Part of the Voice I Almost Lost – Blog #19
by Alana Pierre Curry
We don’t always think about the moments we’re missing while we’re in them.
We move through our days doing what has to get done—some good, some tedious—often taking for granted the opportunities we have to spend with or give to the people who matter most.
For me, the shift began when I lost my mama.
A Complicated Love
My relationship with my mama was unique.
There were times growing up when she was my world. And there were times I felt she kept me from the world.
It angered me sometimes—watching her put her life on hold for my stepfather, who certainly never put his life on hold for anyone. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to spread her wings and fly…taking us away from the drama of our household with him.
She didn’t. And while I will write more about that in the future, for now I just pause—because even with the pain of it, she was my mama.
The Day Everything Changed
It was the day before Thanksgiving in 2022.
We couldn’t reach her—my uncle and I both tried calling, I texted. I still look back at those messages sometimes: “Mama, please respond so we know you’re okay.”
No responses.
My uncle left his home. I left mine. With my key, we let ourselves into her apartment. We found her in the bathroom. I won’t describe the scene—it is still too painful. She was alive, but not in good shape.
We called 9-1-1. The paramedics came, gentle and kind. It was my first time ever riding in an ambulance. I sat in the front seat while they worked on her in the back.
At the hospital, they told us to wait. A chaplain came to speak with us. And even though I’ve seen enough movies to know what that means, I refused to believe it. Why was this man talking to us? I was angry, in denial, clinging to the thought that this couldn’t be happening.
They led us to her room. She wasn’t coherent, but I knew she knew we were there. I also knew she was ready to go.
The hospital staff told us to go home and come back.
Thanksgiving Without Her
The next day was Thanksgiving. I went to my daughter’s house, surrounded by my two kids, my now husband, and my son-in-law. The groceries had already been purchased, so I started cooking.
But I left ingredients out of every dish. My mind wasn’t there.
The following day, my mama passed.
Her memorial service was on December 3, 2022. It was a blessing to see so many people come to honor her life. Memories of her played across a screen—her smile, her laugh, her presence filling the room one last time. We cried. We smiled. We remembered.
The Regrets, the Realizations
I had regrets. She would not be at my wedding in a few months. She would not be at anything ever again, physically.
I thought about all the missed moments—the times I could have just sat with her, laughed with her, held on to her. I know where I get my sarcasm from—that was one of her gifts to me.
Her loss was overwhelming. And yet, it was also the beginning of a shift in me.
The Shift
Losing my mama changed how I see my life.
It made me ask different questions about my future.
It made me realize I cannot keep waiting.
Her passing reminded me of what I had wanted for her all along—that she would spread her wings and fly.
Now, I know it’s time for me to do the same.
To live more.
To miss fewer moments.
To stop holding myself back.
Because if losing her taught me anything, it’s this: life is too short to stay grounded when we are meant to fly.