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.

Our Last Conversation

I never did write about the last conversations I had with my mother before her death.   I've left these out mainly because it hurt too much.  The pain was so fresh, I thought it would tear my heart out.  But it is the only piece still missing in this story, so I will give it a try now.

I am a Christian.  A follower of Christ.   I believe that Christ is the Son of God, that He came to earth as a baby to live a sinless life and to die, crucified, on the cross.  This He did to atone for my sin, to pay the penalty I could not pay.  I believe that He rose again on the third day and now resides in Heaven at the Father's right hand.   It is by the grace of God alone that He called me by name and saved me.  This not of myself. I did nothing.   I was raised a Roman Catholic.    I was taught that yes, Christ died on the cross for my sin, but I had to work my way into heaven, nonetheless.  This is a lie. Those who believe this, or any other "gospel" are headed for hell.  Full stop.  My mother was a Roman Catholic her entire life.  I had tried, many times, over the years to share the truth with her.  Early on I was zealous, later on I was more discreet.  Trusting God's will to be done, which it always is. 

I made sure that my mother knew how much I loved her and what a wonderful mother she was. She said that she hoped God thought so too.  It was here that I shared the gospel with her.  I made sure she knew that it was through Christ alone that she will enter Heaven.  That she could never be good enough, because no one is.  Before I left I tore out pages from my Charles Spurgeon devotional and left them on the table for her.  These pages clearly explained the gospel, in more eloquent words.  Clearly my mother had read these pages.  She brought them with her to the hospital this last time.  She must have read them, they were in with her prayer cards.  So she knew the truth.

I told her that all the best in me was because of her.  I told her I loved her very much.  I held her tightly.  I didn't cry.  I had to hold it together, for my daughter.  For me.  I wasn't very eloquent in my speech, I was holding back tears.  I knew my mom was in so much pain, although she never told me as much (protecting her baby until the last).  I said my last good bye.

Our last visit had to end.  I had prolonged our stay for a week to help care for her when she came home from the hospital .  This I did, non stop.  I was exhausted when the day came for us to depart.  Even now, nearly three years later, I cry remembering that day.  On previous visits I would always think, "maybe this is the last time I will see her alive."  Half-heartedly, but a thought, nonetheless.  This time I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I would never see my mother alive again.  If I could put into words what it felt like leaving that day, I would.  But there really are no words. 

When we left,  we headed east for a special two-day birthday surprise for my daughter.  Upon arriving at our hotel I called my mom to tell her of our safe arrival. We talked for a few minutes.   My mom asked me if I was happy. I answered the best I could at that moment.  She knew she was dying.  She knew that her time on this earth was limited, so she wanted to tie up loose ends.   I reassured her that I would be fine, that I loved her so very much.  And then the call ended.  I wish I had talked to her longer that day. 

Even now, nearly three years later, I have difficulty adequately recounting the events of those last days.  Of all my siblings (with the exception of my brother who lives close by her) I was the last to have a visit with our mother, as our mother.  By the time my sisters got there she was already in the last stages of her journey to death.  I should feel blessed that I had that time with her, and I do, but I was not there the day she died.  Everyone else was.  I feel that something is left undone...and there is no way to complete it.  I suppose, with time, the feeling with fade - maybe.  Who knows.  It doesn't really matter now.  She's gone.

I realize that this is post is basic, at best.  I have written as best as I can.  The details will remain in my heart forever, as I relive those days when I miss her most.  One day, hopefully not long from now, I will remember the happier, more pleasant times.  But for now, for me, I am still grieving the loss of my mother.  Yes, almost three years now.  You can not put a time limit on grief.  It is what it is, and for me - it is.

Two Years

**I just realized that I never posted this.  In three short months, it will be three years since my mother died.  I will just say "ditto" to what I have typed below.  The pain is still there.  I am just better at living with it and hiding it from others.  I feel so alone in my sorrow.  Yet, I know that the Creator of this universe, the One who created me, is with me.  Still, even today.  Soli deo Gloria.


It has been two years since my mother died.  If I stop and think about that, it blows my mind.  Life has, in fact, gone on.  The sun has risen and set 730 times since the moment my mother took her last breath on this earth.  I am two years older.  Other than that, nothing else has changed.  That doesn't seem right.  It doesn't seem fair.  The absence on this planet of the woman who gave birth to me and raised me to adulthood should have more of an impact on this world.  

My mother's departure from this world has left a large hole in my heart.  I am not so sure that I will ever find anything to fill the void she left.  I am thankful to God for His loving care of me over these last two years.  He is the one who has helped me not feel so alone.  He has wiped my tears away. 

Visiting Again

I am visiting again.  My Dad is okay.  He makes it through each day doing what he always has done..when my mom was alive.  All the while missing his wife as though he is missing a limb.  I miss her too.  It is coming up on two years since she died.  You would think that it would be getting easier to deal with, but it hasn't.  Sure, I have learned to live with her absence, so has my dad, but it does not take away the pain she left in my heart, and his, when she died.

Funny though, the picture that was sitting on the table since her death, where Dad eats his meals,  has now been moved to the counter.  What does this mean?  Is he forgetting? Has his love for his wife grown faint?  Or has he, like the rest of us, learned to live without her in our lives?  I think the latter to be true.  In order to move forward you have to leave something behind.  This fact really hurts like hell. 

I find myself going into her closet to catch a whiff of her perfume.  Is there any smell left?  Has time robbed me of that as well?  I search and look and finally, in another closet, find a blazer she wore a lot.  I smell her perfume.  I smell her.  I breathe in and my memory takes me to a place where she is still alive and laughing.  Where all is right with the world.  It is fake, it is phoney.  She is not here, she is gone, never to be seen again.  I can not stand this.  The pain of her absence is more than I can bare alone.  I will live the rest of my life without my mother.  Soon, my dad will join her. 

I look to the one who alone gives peace, who alone gives comfort.  I have nothing but the promise of the cross of Christ.  I cling to it.  There is nothing else.

Some Days I Miss My Mother Very Much

Today is one of those days.

A dear friend's mother died a few days ago.  In speaking with her she recounted the last few days she spent with her mother, before she died.  I am glad that I could be there for my friend, whose grief is so fresh, however, my heart has been aching ever since.  Oh how I miss mom.

I wish I could have shared with my friend that the pain she feels will go away or lessen somehow.  I couldn't, because it hasn't for me.  The times that I cry may be fewer and spaced farther apart, but the heartache is the same as the day she left this earth.  In order to survive I have learned to live with this pain.

Somehow I must face the rest of my life without the woman who gave me life.  Without the woman who sacrificed so much of herself for me.  It is only by God's grace I am able to continue.  My friend shared something with me that gave me comfort -- because I know Christ, God IS with me.  I am never alone in my sorrow.  Praise be to God.  He is faithful, He is carrying me, He will complete this work in me. 

Until I reach heaven's door I will remember my mother and all she gave me.  I will remember her in the best parts of me, because they are because of her.   I will continue to keep her memory alive in the stories I tell.  I will see her face every time I look at my daughter.  I will continue to love and honor my father.  And I will remember how much she loved me. 

It is Well with my Soul

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pain shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

And Lord haste the day, when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Soli deo Gloria. Amen.

·

Charles Spurgeon Was a Very Wise Man

If you perish praying for mercy through the precious blood, you will be the first who ever perished that way. Cry on; just cry on. But believe, too, for believing brings the morning star and the day dawn. ~CH Spurgeon


I am still waiting for the morning star and the day dawn, but I know that my God is faithful.

Easter

My mother made every holiday something special.  She especially loved Easter.  I can see us all dressed up, taking a family photo, before church on Easter Sunday.  I think it was more than just the holidays that she loved - she loved family.  My mother held us together.  We weren't the perfect family, but we had love for each other.  She made us see the importance of spending time together.  And we did.  I just wish I could have appreciated that time together more when I was younger and we were all geographically close.  It is so different now.  My Dad and brother live far away and I have a sister who really wants nothing to do with me. I am grateful for my oldest sister who, although busy with her adult children's problems, has been a good sister to me and a constant in my daughter's life.

I am especially missing my mom today.  Sometimes I hear her voice in my head, and my heart aches again.  This pain has been the worst pain I have ever felt.  In these moments of great sadness I work at turning my attention outward and upward.  Outward to those around me that I love and upward to the only One who can take away my pain.  The One whose death on a cross saved me from my sin and gave me hope.  Hope for life everlasting.  Hope that I will, one day, see my  mother again and hear her voice.  Soli deo Gloria.

The Weariness

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal." (2Corinthians 4:15+)




If there was no God, there would be no Jesus.  If there was no Jesus there would be no hope.  I have a hope that is other-worldy.  A hope that rests squarely in the life and death of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  I take nothing for granted.  I am humbled by the fact that I was called by name, and that I belong to Him.  


Soli deo Gloria

The Past Twelve Months

Can it already be a year?  A whole twelve months since my mother died?  This Thursday, November 17, 2011, will mark the one year anniversary of her death.  At times it seems like it was just yesterday and at other times it feels like it was one hundred years ago.  I can't decide which hurts more.

I have learned some things in the past year, I'd like to share them with you.

1) Death sucks.  No, it really does.  God did not intend for us to die, so when it touches your life it hurts, it hurts like nothing you have ever felt before.

2) I really, really, really loved (love?) my mother.  I didn't realize what an important roll she still played in my life until she was gone.   After all, I am all grown up and she had moved out of state more than fifteen years ago.  How much had I needed her?  Far more than I ever imagined.  So many times, in the last year, I have wanted to call her and talk to her about something.

3) I've learned that it really is all about the gospel.  My only comfort in life, and death, is the knowledge that I belong to my Heavenly Father whose Son paid the penalty for my sin on the cross, and in so doing has secured for me a place in Heaven, for all eternity.  In my darkest moments this past year, God was there...He held me up, He let me cry on His shoulder, He never stopped loving me.

4) I've learned that my mother believed the above too.  And I am convinced I will see her again one day.

5) If I didn't know this already, my husband is an amazing man.  He has held me when I've needed to cry and given me the space when I have needed to be alone. He has been instrumental in my grieving.  When others close to me have said that I need to "move on," and have caused me to doubt my sanity, he reassured me that grief is a personal journey and I was right where I should be. I love him more today than I did twelve months ago.

It has been a very hard year.  I am weary of this journey and look forward to brighter tomorrows.  Rest in peace Mom, I love you.

Today

Today, one year ago, was the last time I saw my mother alive.  There really is nothing to add to this statement.  Just that it hurts today as much as it did that day.  That day I knew, really knew, that I would never see her alive again.  I sat down next to her on the couch and hugged her frail body.  I hugged as tightly as I could without hurting her.  Before she let go of me, Mom said, with emphasis, "I love you *SO* much."  Mom knew, too, that she would never see me or my daughter again.

I drove away that day with such a pain in my heart.  How I loved, love, her.  How I miss her.

Best Intentions

Remember a while back I posted about my mom making ornaments?  Well, for several years leading up to her death there was an ornament she received from a friend sitting in her craft room.  This ornament is made out of small circles (cut from Christmas cards) that are all stapled together to make a ball.  My mom always wanted to make this ornament for us. When we visited my dad this past Spring, I brought home the bag with the completed ornament and the cards she was using to cut the circles.  It is my intention to make three of these this year, one for each of my siblings.

So, here I sit trying to piece the first one together.  With every staple my heart grows heavier and heavier.  Can I just say one more time, in case you haven't been listening, how weary I have grown of the pain in my heart?  I try with every breath of my being to turn my sadness into joy.  Not joy in the jumping-up-and-down kind, but joy in the fact that I had her for 46 years...that she was a remarkable woman who raised me to be a God-fearing adult.  A woman who sacrificed everything for me.  But every thought brings sadness.  Why is this so?

Believe me, I know just how redundant this is beginning to sound.  It clangs around in my head.  In less than a month it will be one whole year since she died.   While I have made some advancement I do not feel it is good enough.  She would not want me still crying after all this time...she would want me to pour myself another glass of wine and toast to her memory. I wish I could, oh how I wish I could.

She was here.

I am a Christian.  I believe the bible to be the word of God and I take it literally.  Therefore, I believe that when you die you either go to heaven or hell...there is no in between waiting room, nor is your soul reincarnated.  However yesterday I could have been easily persuaded, for a brief moment, to believe otherwise.  Something very cool happened.

I homeschool my daughter. It can be a very hard job.  My mom was a great supporter of my efforts and quite proud too, I think.  She was my silent cheerleader.  The night before we started classes for the year, I was feeling very sad and down trodden.  I was really missing my mom.  I wanted to tell her that we were starting school. I wanted to tell her about the cute clothes we got at Gymboree.  I just wanted to hear her say "Have you started school yet?"

Monday morning came very quickly and the day began.  We were sitting doing our Bible lesson.  I looked out the window and there was a hummingbird hovering there, looking in at me.  She then went to the next window, looked in and then flew away.  I am not a "signs and wonders" Christian.  However, I DO believe that this was an angel from heaven...my mother was with me that morning.  She is always with me in my heart.  No amount of time can change that and I will continue to honor her in my heart.

Mom was with me that day, in a very special way, cheering me on, as always.  I will never forget the feeling that overcame me as I stared back at the little bird.  Oh how I miss her....

My cup...

‎"We can ask for the cup to pass, but if the Father says no, then there is too much at stake. If you hurt that much, it's because you were given the privilege to LOVE that much." ~From New Horizons for Children

A friend shared this with me and it pierced my heart.  My mother would not want me feeling this sad so long, I know that.  But, I can not help it...so I will embrace it.

Moving On...

My father sent me this poem today.  It looks like he is moving on...I can't, I don't know how.  What is wrong with me?

You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she had lived.

You can close your eyes and pray  that she'll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her only that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory  and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back. Or you can do what she'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

by David Harkings