The Long Good Bye

About ten years ago my mother-in-law was told that she would, eventually, succumb to dementia.  None of us really knew what that meant.  So, for a while, it was "business as usual" for everyone.  Then the phone calls began.  She would call me late in the afternoon, almost every day, asking the same questions.  Where's my mother? Where's my brother? Is my father dead? Who are my children?  Where are they?  Sometimes we would have conversations about how she "did" as a mother.  The conversations were sometimes long and plagued with fear and pain.  Other times, they were short and silly, but confused.  I never resented her for the calls, I was glad I could be there for her when she needed someone to talk to.  Yet, at the same time, they left me feeling terribly sad because by then I knew what was coming,

The bridge from knowing to not knowing was a long and hard road, but, eventually the phone calls stopped.  There was no longer a need for her to know. She lived in a house alone, but next door to family.  For several years they kept an eye on her, as best they could.  That didn't stop her from wondering and calling 911 because she was "looking for her children".  Many trips to the ER, because the rescue team would often find her quite confused.  No surprises there. 

Finally, out of necessity, the family decided it was time for her to placed in a permanent care facility.  She lived there, quite well, until her death. I couldn't go to the funeral, as we were away camping and someone needed to stay at camp with our dog. I opted to stay behind. It is really funny, while I wish I could have been there for my husband and daughter, I do not feel as though I do not have closure.  I said good bye to my mother-in-law many years before.

Even stranger, how different the grieving has been for her.  So different from what I felt, and continue to feel, for my own mother. I can not even remember the exact day she died. Does that make me a bad person? I remember the moment I was told my own mother was dead. Every year, I pause at that moment and reflect on her life and how I miss her.  I don't do that with my MIL.

Of course it's different. One woman gave me life, sacrificing all of her own wants and desires, while the other one "loved" me because I was married to her son.  I think she loved me the best she could. But, the long good bye is a strange one.  And it will, of course, alter the grieving process as it clearly did for me.

Time stands still for no woman, and life continues without those who played significant rolls in most of it.  Yet, you learn to function and do all the things you have to do, but there is always pain just below the surface.

I don't know where time gets to, but I do know one thing - time has not erased the fact that I continue to miss my mother each and every day.  Many days are still a struggle.  A struggle to remain upbeat in my thoughts and actions.  My daughter will be fifteen this year...my mother will be gone for seven years. SEVEN years.  I am not sure which astounds me more, the fact that my baby will be fifteen or that my mom has been gone seven years.

I wish I had some profound words to say to you about moving on.  Because I don't.  I fight, daily, with the fact that my girl is grown up.  I fight, daily, with the fact that I miss my mom very much.  If I could have one do over, it would be to be able to have that last phone call with my mother again.  There are so many things that I would like to ask her now.  Things that, seven years ago, I didn't know I needed answers to.  What are these questions?  I'd like to know what my mother's life dream was.  What did she want to have accomplished in her life most...and did she fulfil it? Did she enjoy being a mother?  Did she regret anything in her life?  Is there something she wishes she did that she never got around to?  Did she dread her children growing up like I do?  Sigh.

She has a great grandson now.

Death sucks.  Death hurts the people left behind.  My dad is ready to die.  He has trouble walking and every day is a struggle for him.  I'm not ready to lose him, I'm not ready.  I'm not ready. I'm not ready.

A Long Road

A dear friend lost her mother.  When I heard I cried tears of great sorrow.  I cried because I know the pain my friend was feeling at that moment and I know the pain she has felt every moment from that day until now.  I also know that she has a long road ahead of her.  I don't exactly know when I felt "normal" again.  I'm not sure I ever will.  Mom is gone from this earth and her death has left a gaping hole in my heart that nothing, not even time, can fill.

Grief really is like the tide.  Some waves are bigger than others, but there are always waves.  That is how I feel about the death of my mom.  There is always grief hidden under the surface.  The thing is, to look at me you wouldn't think that.  There is always pain.  I think that is one of the harder things to accept -  once time passes the people around you tend to forget that you are still grieving.  That, somehow, you are "over it".  You never are over it, you never recover. 

I pray for my friend, daily.  I pray that she will always know that I remember.

But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus.  For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep.  For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.  Therefore comfort one another with these words.

 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18

Time Passing...

It has been so long since I last wrote.  Time passes.  It marches on. Whether you want it to or not.  Yet, never a day passes that a thought of you doesn't reach my heart.  How I miss you. 

The Mourners' Comforter -- Susannah Spurgeon

The Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces. Isaiah 25:8

I have sometimes wondered if that glorious arch, encircling the very throne of God, can be typical of the transformation of earth's sorrows into heavenly joys - a lovely symbol of the shining of God's pardoning love upon the rain of tears from mortal eyes, for sin, and suffering, and death.  There can be no rainbow without showers, you know, and certainly there can be no weeping in heaven; so, may it not be that the Lord has put this 'appearance of the bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain' in his high and holy place, as a token to us that all the tears we shed on earth are reflected up in heaven, and gleam there in fair colours, as light of his love to us in Christ Jesus falls tenderly upon them?  'I have seen your tears', he says, 'they shall all be wiped away some day.'

The salt drops which steal down our cheeks through physical suffering - wrung from our eyes by mortal pain and weakness are all seen by our loving Lord; they are put into his bottle; his purpose concerning them shall be manifest when their mission is accomplished, and then the source from whence they sprang shall be forever dried up.  'God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.'

And with what inconceivable tenderness shall the bitter tears caused by bereavement be wiped away when we get home!

Another Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.  I have missed you every day of my life for the past three and a half years.  My life changed the day you left this world.  No, my grief no longer defines me, but my heart still aches when I remember you.  I know now just how truly blessed I was to have you for my mother.  You devoted your life to me, sacrificing so much along the way.  You loved me like no other could or will again.  I sure hope you knew how much you were loved.

Another friend lost her mother.  I went to the wake.  It is so sad.  It all reminds me of the pain that still lives in my own  heart.  Death is a horrible thing anyway you slice it.  But the death of a mother is something more.  The ties that were bound in the womb and stay bound throughout life are suddenly torn loose. 

There is nothing you can say.  I told my friend that it will hurt like hell for a while.  And then she will learn to live with the emptiness.  And that is it, that is all I've got, on a human level.  However, Christ is my all in all.  He has held me close, even in those moments when I felt He didn't exist.  He was still there, is still there,  before His Father in heaven, praying on my behalf.  He is there for her too, if she believes.  I pray she does.  Apart from Christ, there is no hope. No comfort. No peace.

Silence Doesn't Mean Anything

I know I have been silent.  It doesn't mean that I am not here.  It just means that life has gone on.  Not much has changed.  Recently a dear friend died.  There was a time, and this is hard for me to say, that she was more of a mother to me than my own.  At that time I was immature and ignorant.  It is unfortunate that I didn't understand the true effect my own mother had on me and my life until after she was gone.  You hear that all the time, don't you?  As is the case with my infertility, I try to impart words of wisdom (which come from life experience) to those around me.  When a friend complains about her mother, I try to encourage her to look past those things which annoy or are below standard, and love her through it.  Because, dear friend,  when she is gone, she is g.o.n.e.  There is no turning back.  And living life with regrets is no way to live.

So, this friend who recently died, she was the godliest woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing.  She lived a very quiet and simple life.  But she lived every one of her days preparing for the moment she would meet her savior, every moment preparing for that day when her faith would be sight.  Well, she is sitting at his feet right now.

I learned so much from her during the tenure of our friendship.  I learned about loving the Lord with all your heart, mind, soul and strength. I learned about loving others more than yourself.  I learned what it was to be your husband's helpmeet - until death parts you.  I learned that there is nothing more important on this earth than your relationship with God.

So, what do I take away from her death and her life?  I need to do better.  Plain and simple.  I have failed at every turn.  My life is more than half over and if I were to die today, I would hide my face in shame from my savior.  Oh wretched [wo]man that I am...who shall save me from this body of death?  Praise be to Jesus, my Lord and my Savior.