ALossisNot The End
Grief is a byproduct of loss, a natural process that is simply our way to heal, emotionally. Finding the right words is never easy following the transition of a loved one, and we can sometimes find it easier to be on the giving end of offering our condolences as opposed to being on the receiving end. Just like we all know that losing people we love, respect, and admire is par for the course along our journey through this thing called life in this vessel that we call a body. Whether it’s a loved one, a job, or something as small yet valuable as a ring that has been passed down generations; a loss is inevitable but how we handle it is what really matters. It’s not a display of weakness; it’s more a test of our strength. This is when you turn your pain into passion!
Being that there are so many levels of loss, most
of us know that how we react to it all depends on the significance of the matter, which could range from grieving for a few hours to what can feel like the worst pain ever leading to a deep depression. We have all, at some point or another, taken a loss and shrugged it off as a teachable moment but not everyone has faced the same insurmountable loss more than once or even loss after loss after loss of loved ones. To have to endure that and still push on with grace is a SUPERPOWER in itself and a true sign of strength and regality. It shows us that a loss isn’t the end – it’s more the start of a new chapter.
The severity of the loss bears the need for an outlet. Sometimes that outlet can be talking about it publicly or privately with those we feel most connected to. For many, speaking about it with others gives the strength needed to turn that pain into
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power in an effort to persevere and inspire others in the process as we all will lose a loved one – it’s a part of life that we may not always want to accept. Whatever the case; it is important to find something therapeutic to aid in the grieving process. Seek God or seek therapy but I can assure you that you’ll find the answers you seek by reading the Word first – “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.” -Philippians 4:13.
As a community, we have to lend support because you never know when we will need it. Everyone is going through something, and a kind word, an act of kindness, or even a genuine, friendly smile can let someone know that brighter times are ahead. Not only do these gestures have the ability to boost that person’s energy; think about what it says about you and your character. I always say, when we encounter people along our way, they will remember how we made them feel before they remember our name. Moreover, what do you think you’ll be remembered for when you transition? What was your impact on the people you’ve met? Fond memories of laughter, peace, and joy are not just what I use to keep going after losing a loved one, but I also aim to leave the same lasting impression on the hearts and minds of everyone that I encounter as well.
They say laughter is food for the soul but that doesn’t mean that you won’t shed tears. Let your tears be what my mom calls “happy tears” because the sheer completeness of losing someone we love can feel unbelievable and this is why we must grieve at our own pace and take whatever time is necessary to do so. Oftentimes the people around us will assume we’re exceptionally resilient after the arbitrary days for bereavement have passed when that could be the farthest thing from our reality.
I, personally, don’t believe there is a correct way to mourn the loss of anyone, but I do believe that the first step towards healing is acknowledging and accepting the loss. It is a reality, and it must be addressed then we must forge on because most likely that is what our loved one would want us to do. Surely, it does not mean that they’ll be forgotten; it more so means we honor them by showing how strong we are. You can’t rush grief – be sure to allow yourself and others to fully go through their
grieving process.
Many of us are guilty, I know I am, of being selfish and not wanting to allow people to transition because we’ve come to adore that person, that body, that vehicle that housed that particular spirit. It took me years to correlate that just as a car cannot move without an operator, neither can the body function without the spirit.
This also helped me understand how I could feel someone’s presence after they’ve passed on –although it’s the end of life, it’s not the end of their spirit. Energy Never Dies; it just transfers and it can come in the form of someone else or by turning that painful energy into a productive passion.
A loss isn’t the end; it’s always a new beginning. Grieve in peace and start the healing journey. Make your loved ones proud because they’re rooting for you more than ever!
To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord...”
- Quori Grands -
Quori is the author of “Do What You’re Supposed to do so You Can Do What You Wanna Do.”
You can follow the his work online at
www.WaterYourSeedz.com and you can connect with him on Instagram
@Water_Your_Seeds_.
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The Life of ChristopherJ
Christopher Joseph Travieso made his entrance into the world on a hot day, on July 5th, 1987, at 4:19 PM. During his arrival, while giving birth, he took his first breath and remarkably grasped the physician’s scissors as they cut the umbilical cord. In that moment, I sensed a strength within him that would enable him to overcome any challenge that life might present in his future.
As a young and uncertain mother, my love for my beautiful baby boy encouraged me to be a great parent since I now had someone who belonged to me. Despite facing criticism from others about my motherhood, Christopher brought the attention and joy I craved. He was perfect, and each day of watching him grow filled me with fascination. Being the first grandson in both of our families, he was showered with love and attention.
Christopher took his first steps at just 9 months old and was running by his first birthday. He received his first haircut from my neighbor who lived downstairs from me. He harbored a deep love for animals, especially horses. Attentive in every conversation, he demanded attention with his captivating expressions. I recall him turning my head at times
insisting I look at him when he talks, “Mommy, Mommy, look at me when I talk to you.”
He was an affectionate yet occasionally shy little boy who paid keen attention to his surroundings. Christopher’s favorite cartoons evolved from Ninja Turtles to Power Rangers. He was later introduced to video movies by my mother and enjoyed watching Aliens, E.T., and Predator. He became so engaged in each scene that he memorized and reenacted his favorite parts, transforming into a little actor within the storyline.
While my family and friends looked after Christopher during my work hours or when he was engrossed in activities, I would occasionally receive a phone call about him and his clothing. He tended to take off his clothes and shoes, leaving him with his underwear and a tee shirt on, with a miniature horse or a cartoon figure in both hands. When I questioned him, he’d say; “Mommy it’s too hot with clothes on.”
He was often content in his own company and cherished independent activities. However, he shared a special bond with his dad, particularly in their shared love for art. His passion for drawing blos-
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somed at a young age, influenced by his father’s talent for creating cartoon characters. With each artistic milestone he achieved, Christopher was rewarded with a new character to draw, pushing his skills to new heights with each challenge.
In 1990, our family made the transition to Atlanta, Georgia, marking the beginning of Chris’s formal education journey. He enrolled in a daycare facility located five miles from our home at the time. Each day, he eagerly shared with me the new things he had learned and the friendships he had formed. As the only child at the time, he occasionally experienced moments of loneliness, but he found comfort in using his vibrant imagination, often creating imaginary friends who became like family to him.
One of the highlights during our time in Atlanta was Chris’s participation in his first Christmas concert. Witnessing my little boy exude confidence, personality, and the resilience of a little man filled me with immense pride. It was a joyous moment that brought a smile to my face each day as I watched him grow and flourish and he embraced his role as a big brother with unwavering love and protection, towards my middle son, Joseph. The bond they shared was unbreakable, and I often dressed them alike, especially during our outings to the park, making it effortless to spot them in a crowd.
As he matured, his interests expanded to include baseball, a sport introduced to him by his
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uncle (Tio Eddie). His admiration for Derek Jeter, the iconic shortstop of the New York Yankees, led him to adopt the same position as his favorite player. Despite being below the height norm, his athleticism is shown through his passion for rollerblading and basketball. He refused to let his height hinder his love for sports and pursued them with unwavering determination.
Christopher’s educational journey continued in the Catholic school of the Archdiocese up to his junior high school years, during which his favorite subjects were Art and Science. He was a remarkable young man who
adapted well to the community we resided in. We often allowed him and his brother to have frequent sleepovers with his closest friends, whom he considered to be like brothers to him. He enjoyed a variety of foods, including pizza, shrimp fried rice, fried chicken, and Spanish rice and beans. Chris had a passion for dancing. He would often gather his closest friends in my mother’s apartment to rehearse their dance routines. During those times, the Harlem Shake was all the rage, and I vividly recall the sound of the song “Special Delivery” by G. Dep playing on repeat as they practiced their moves.
However, like many teenagers, Christopher began to experience mood swings and hormonal changes. Life took a challenging turn for him when his father and I separated. Reflecting, I now realize that his behavior during that time was a cry for attention. He became increasingly disobedient and struggled to adhere to my instructions, particularly in group settings and while in high school. Eventually, he made the difficult decision to take evening classes in school due to his tardiness of late arrivals to class and failing grades.
I reached out to his father in search of guidance to help steer our son in the right direction, but unfortunately, all options proved unsuccessful. Despite our efforts, Christopher’s behavior became increasingly difficult to manage. At the tender age of seventeen, he left home multiple times and found himself in trouble with the law, resulting in both my mother
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and me having to bail him out of jail on a snowy day. It was a heartbreaking experience as I traveled to Riker’s Island Correctional Facility in New York and witnessed my young teenage son be released from a place where I had fought so hard to protect him.
After his release, Chris made a thousand promises to stay out of trouble and to make me proud. However, those promises were short-lived, as he soon found himself again in trouble. This time, it happened in the State of New Jersey during an altercation where he was hit in the mouth with a pool ball and required stitches. Despite feeling distraught, I drove alone to New Jersey to rescue my son and bring him home once again. I placed him in a program for his G.E.D. which required night classes that he had to attend, what a challenge that was! I received calls about him disappearing and never returning. My boys enjoyed the opportunity to visit the area where I grew up, Throggs Neck Projects. It was a chance for them to reconnect with their childhood friends in the comfort of familiar surroundings. In this environment, they could truly be themselves and learn from each other’s experiences.
He enjoyed learning new skills and later became engaged in demolition construction where he gained a job with a friend of mine; he enjoyed the job’s skillset but later became sick from the debris. Christopher began to develop a dry cough that gradually became more bothersome. Despite our efforts, it proved challenging to
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pinpoint the exact diagnosis.
Both his father and I decided to take him for a test, which eventually revealed that he had a touch of bronchitis. However, I found it puzzling because his X-ray photos didn’t show any inflammation in his lungs. Although Chris was prescribed medication, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something more serious might be wrong with my son.
At nineteen years old, he began asserting his independence, making his own decisions, and setting his own rules. Despite my efforts to encourage positive changes, he continued to follow his path. He was in a long-term relationship and eventually moved in with his girlfriend and stayed with his dad regularly.
Every night, I turned to prayer, asking the Lord to watch over my son, protect him, and guide him toward the path of security and fulfillment. Entrusting Chris’s future to God, I found solace in knowing that divine guidance would lead him where he needed to be.
As a single mother now caring for three sons on my own, I placed my trust in God’s hands, believing that His wisdom and grace would see us through. I often found myself reflecting on the sacrifices I made to ensure that my son had everything he needed, even putting my own life on the line at times. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but question where I might have gone wrong along the way. Parenting is an incredible journey filled with challenges and rewards, and despite the difficulties, I wouldn’t trade or give up
my role as a parent for anything in the world, therefore I continued the fight and stayed in prayer each day. I decided to purchase a second vehicle, and during that time, I discovered Christopher’s passion for music. His love for music as an artist became a full-time endeavor when he was introduced to a manager who guided him through the process of becoming a rap artist. While I may not have fully embraced his choice of career, as his mother, it was my duty to support him and be his biggest cheerleader. I stood by his side, offering my unwavering support.
To encourage his persistence, I made a deal with him: if he stayed committed to his music, I would allow him to drive the car from time to time. I began giving him driving lessons, but I noticed that he kept mentioning that he could not see too well after a few weeks of driving. Two weeks later, Chris became ill again, developing a rash all over his body and experiencing that same severe dry cough. I was concerned and decided to take him to the Lawrence Hospital in White Plains NY. The physician recommended that he stay overnight for further tests and observation. However, Christopher was adamant about going home and pleaded with me to ask the doctor to let him leave, insisting that he only needed medication.
I gave into his pleas, took him home, and instructed him to stay in bed until I returned from work. However, upon my return, I discovered that he had left the house again and was ignoring
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my calls, leaving me worried and frustrated. A few days later, I received a phone call from the physician at Lawrence Hospital, informing me that Christopher’s test results had returned, revealing a diagnosis of Sarcoidosis. Instantly, I was taken back, by asking, “What is that?” He stated it’s an inflammatory disease characterized by the growth of tiny cells known as (granulomas) which can attack different parts of the body, and Chris’s result shows it’s affecting his lungs and can spread to other areas. Despite his diagnosis, my stubborn son insisted that he was fine every time I called him.
In desperation, I reached out to his father, asking him to pick up our son so we could return him to the hospital for further testing and treatment. However, Chris never returned, leaving me deeply worried as he continued to roam the streets like a wild child. A few weeks later we were able to get him to the hospital because his vision became blurred, and he believed it to be Just Pink Eye. He was provided with strict instructions to follow up with an Ophthalmologist for further observation. After going through so much havoc in my personal life I decided to relocate once I graduated from college, I want a new scenery to raise my children in. At the time the building I resided in was experiencing high levels of crime and car break-ins. As a single mother, I wanted to raise my children in a better school system. I brought the news to my children’s attention, and they were not pleased with my decision. Immediately Chris stormed
out of the room and called his dad stating I’m not going to Virginia with Mom; please can I stay with you.
Here I am, finally settled in a new state, finding some new comfort of peace. However, my heart remained heavy because my son wasn’t by my side. Then, a phone call from my mother shattered my newfound calmness—Chris’s eyesight was deteriorating rapidly. Despite the urgency, he never followed up with the specialist, and his vision continued to fade.
In 2010, my worst fears were confirmed: Chris was diagnosed with acute Uveitis, a condition triggered by the Sarcoidosis he was battling. At just twenty-one years old, he was facing the prospect of losing his sight entirely. The news crushed me, and I found myself on my knees, praying for a miracle. Guilt consumed me as I blamed myself for leaving him and expecting him to navigate his health struggles alone. I also began to blame his father for not watching over him the way he should have, as my mind continued to race, I felt useless that I was not available to help him, so I decided to take a week off to visit my son in New York. My mother convinced him to stay with her, it was her continuous guidance and encouragement that allowed him to gain the correct attention and treatment to get him on the correct path to recovery.
As my mind raced with blame, I couldn’t help but hold his father accountable for not providing the necessary supervision he needed. During this time, my mother’s
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unwavering support proved to be invaluable. She convinced my son to come and stay with her, offering him the guidance and encouragement he needed. Thanks to her continuous efforts, Christopher finally received the attention and treatment required to set him on the path to recovery. During my visit, I witnessed my son struggling with depression and anger over the changes he faced. Recognizing the need for support, I suggested therapy to help him cope with this new challenge. However, his stubbornness proved to be a barrier, and he adamantly refused to attend any therapy sessions, insisting that he wasn’t “crazy. He started drinking way too much, often passing out in risky places and getting robbed as a result. He refused to admit he had a problem and wouldn’t get the help he needed. His relationships with women became chaotic because of his drinking. He’d get into fights and even become violent with people he crossed paths with. Every day, I’d call him, trying to hold back my emotions, begging him to come stay with me in Virginia. Eventually, he decided to come stay with us for a week because he missed his brothers, and I was overjoyed to finally have my son with me. But when I saw the condition of his eyes, I couldn’t help but cry out in sorrow. He always reassured me, saying, “It’s okay, Mommy, I’m alright. I can see, it’s just really blurry.” My heart broke for him, and I continued to pray for his recovery.
Chris’s condition deteriorated further as he continued to drink heavily, his habits spiraling out of
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control despite everyone’s pleas for him to seek proper treatment. His irate behavior persisted, disregarding the advice of his doctor who emphasized the urgency of putting down alcohol to save his failing eyesight. He continued to challenge himself and engage in social events, getting lost on numerous occasions and even getting put out of nightclubs for walking into the wrong restroom because he couldn’t see in the dark. Chris was laughed at because of so many accidental falls, he would get left alone in many places even though he was accompanied by those he assumed to be friends, he would still get left due to him wandering off. This would leave my mother or his father to find his location and pick him up.
More devastating news arrived when my mother called to inform me that Chris had lost his vision entirely and urgently needed surgery. An infection had compounded the granulomas that were attacking his eyes, and the surgery required was financially out of reach for our family at the time. With heavy hearts and prayers, a miracle unfolded when an ophthalmologist generously offered to perform the surgery for free, ultimately saving one of Chris’s eyes. We were all overjoyed for the moment he was able to have a much better vision.
His days were challenging, as they required him to take medication that caused his weight to fluctuate, leading to unwanted pounds. Additionally, he experienced flare-ups that caused him intense pain. Unfortunately,
his condition worsened due to his drinking habits, resulting in a diagnosis of gout for failing to adhere to the prescribed diet from his doctor.
Witnessing his struggles, I was deeply saddened but tried to hold back the tears. As a mother, it’s instinctual to want to protect your children, regardless of their age. Seeing him in such a condition, knowing that I couldn’t provide the proper motherly treatment, was a heart-wrenching experience.
For the full continuation of The life of Christopher J. AKA NU” watch the episode 6 documentary available on the Bully docuseries YouTube platform.
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