Absence

Well, it happened last night.  I dreamed about Christmas, as I often do.  We were all there as a family, making a feast-there were even these cool mini-zucchinis that looked like baby carrots-random.  It was festive and decorative and alive with people, except you weren't there, mom.  First dream where you were absent.  I hate that.  I had hoped that I could interract with you still in my dreams.  They have been so vivid these past years but now with your passing, even that has ended.  Again, I hate it.  Instead, there was some strange air force friend of dad's who was bossing everyone around and rearranging our living room and kitchen cabinets and I was so angry at him for intruding on our family time.  Then I saw the advent calendar-remember, mom?  The one you so carefully made with all the little colored birdies-we each had our favorite color.  It was there, in the living room with all these delicate chains hanging off of it and I was fingering them, and thinking about you.  And you were not there.  I dread Christmas this year without you.  I know it is about Jesus and I know it will be beautiful and special because of Him, but you always made it magical for us and I will miss your presence more than you know.

Remembrances

It is difficult for me to remember you, mom.  Not because I can't, but because it hurts so much to do so.  It reminds me of the incredible loss of not having you in this world with me anymore.  I had so many dreams and plans for us but God had a better plan-He wanted you with Him and you are much better off.  I am glad.  But it is already fading-your passing, your funeral.  I do not want you to fade-ever.  So here goes with just a few of my memories of you, not what other people have told me or what I have seen in pictures, but what I remember:

You and I playing tennis, laughing so hard we could not breathe-making fun of ourselves because we looked like we were catching butterflies.

You getting your black glove caught on my braces in church and then us busting out laughing when the organist dropped the hymnal on the organ during the prayer.  You were always so proprietous in church but this undid even you.

You cutting my grapefruit for me every morning in high school and me hearing you and dad pray for me each day when I walked down the hall-made me so mad in my rebellious state but gee, thanks so much, mom.  I sure needed it.

You patiently helping me sew when I would get so upset and pitch a fit because I had no patience at all.  I still see your fingers running the fabric through the machine.  Your sweet little fingers.

You coming into the living room when I had broken up with a boyfriend and was distraught, rocking away my sorrows listening to "Tragedy" by the Bee Gees.  You looking so lost saying that you wished you could make it better.  I get it now.

You picking me up from school because I just walked out because my friends were being mean.

You dressing up as Mary Poppins for our youth group Halloween party.

The choir parties you always let me come to- "behind the barn he doth lurkey".

Singing with you in choir-"There'll be angels singing everywhere, their voices fill the evening air."  I still remember it.

You crying when I bought my first Black Sabbath Album.  I threw it away.

You getting a yellow pollen mustache from smelling the flower a little too closely at Campbells.  "The perennial with the yellow mustache."  Only we will know, mom.

Us hearing the myna bird in Fox's-"wee, wee, wee, wee, wee, wee, wee"-up and down the scale.  We laughed so hard.  We laughed a lot together, mom.  I am so glad.  Not everyone knew your funny, silly side.  But I did.

You making the frozen macaroon ice cream treats in the cupcake holders that I loved so much.  You knew all our favorite foods.  You made life magical, mom.

Dancing

Hey mommy-What is it like in heaven? I wish I could talk with you and know. I asked God to tell you "hi" last night. I miss you so much. We were all with you to usher you into Jesus' presence. It was both a horrifying and holy moment. We all layed our hands on you and talked with you. I think you knew we were there. It was the best it could have been but it still stinks. It is not the way it was ever supposed to be. I don't like being in this world without you.

Final Moments

Hi Mom- there are so many memories of you scattered about in my head.  They all got the memo that you are no more on this earth and decided to visit me.  It is a gift.  I think that while a person is alive, we do not need their memories, because we have them.  When they go, the memories flood in to take their place.  At least that is what is happening to me.  I want to relate some of the sweet moments of your passing and then memories that have come my way in the past week since you have been gone.

You telling us "I love you all so much" while crying-one week before you went.  Those were the last words I heard you speak and I will treasure them always.

You lying in bed, gasping for air, parched for water, while we sponged you, sang to you, prayed with you, massaged you, turned you, wetted your lips, put vaseline and lotion on you and tried every other possible thing to keep you comfortable in a desperate situation.

Dad kissing you and calling you "mama" and his tender grief-Jeff says he has been cut in two.  That describes it so well.

The grandgirls coming in at various intervals to sing to you and pray with you.

Elise and I singing you to heaven-that last day-together and seperatly-did you sing with us in your spirit?

Jeff and I setting our alarms to get up in the middle of the night to turn you-you had NO wounds on your body-we took good care of you, mom.  We love you that much.

Your almost-shut eyes, milky, roaming and then at the end-opening up big as day, dark, aware-searching for dad's face, then Jesus'.  You trying to talk.  What would you have said?  It must be glorious.

All 10 of us on your bed and around, saying our final good-byes, urging you on to go be with Jesus and free of pain, telling you we would be ok, that we  were all there with you to the very end.  Your last breath.

Elise and I curling your hair-for the very last time-so you would look good-it was important to you.

Me asking "what do we do without her?"  and Annett answering "you love each other."  Yep, we will.

Dad telling you that you would always be in his heart and relating all your memories together.  He loved you well-until the bitter end.  He loves you still.

There are so many other memories and thoughts I have that are not for publication.  Even these seem to much.  If I ever thought anyone read my blog, I would not post them.  Some things are for family only.

Your beautiful celebration ceremony:  Cindy surprising me by showing up, picking out your "Trenton" casket (you would LOVE this), burritos with dad, Jeff, Elise-all of us feeling a little lost-singing "Soon and Very Soon"-we kept our composure, seeing the limos pull up and not wanting to have them there-seeing the hearse and not wanting it to take you away-seeing your sweet face for the last time and not wanting to not ever see it again-seeing your casket with the beautiful pink and purple flowers that all of the girls picked out for you and not wanting them to put my mommy in the ground-realizing that you are gone, dancing with Jesus and around the throne, that we don't have to worry about you any longer-you are safe, free, at peace.  But I still want to see you, and don't really want to live the rest of this life without you in the world. 

Jeff, Elise and I playing Songburst and chasing everyone else out of the room with our obnoxious singing.

Oh mom, what a family you have raised-you were the family flagship, as Jeff said.  We are all a little lost without you.

Passing

You are going, mom. I am home. I walked into your room and saw your fragile form lying on the bed and I knew we did not have long. It is hard-to be in this house, with you yet not with you. You are everywhere-your paintings, cross stitch pictures, your plate collection, crystal, piano, pictures, sewing-everything, everywhere. It is all you-your house-the house you and dad built and you made a home. But you are not here-just your form. You did not recognize me but burst into a huge smile and then tears when you saw Rachel. Something about your grandkids touches deep places in your heart. Dad said he loved you and you said "I love you all so much." And then you went away again. You are barely eating and drinking-we syringe Gatorade into your mouth and try to shove some food in but it is rather barbaric. Why are we trying so hard to keep you here? Dad said it best: we are selfish. I told you it was ok for you to go-to go be with Jesus, and see Gram and Gramps and maybe Ves and Eva. God knows. I told you we would follow you there-save a place for us at the banquet table. Elise gave her permission before she left as well. I think you are waiting for Jeff before you go-there are some loose ends there-years of loose ends. I am praying he can talk with you. Then maybe you will feel free to fly away home. It is hard to watch you in this condition-so hard to see someone you love starve to death. It is hard to be with you and not with you. To be in your house, surrounded by evidences of your love-ghost house. It is hardest to see dad-to see his heart breaking and the depth to which he misses you already.