Tag: writing

Another Anniversary

Like clockwork, the marking of “lasts” begins. The intricacies of grief. The tangled mess, racked with agony and pain. Unplanned, yet very much part of my life.

The ugly cry, the sobs, the wails – shrieking through my broken heart…loud as a siren, yet a silent muffle for the world around me.

Do you remember that today was her last appointment? Do you remember that today was her last meal? Do you remember…?

Do you remember…HER?!

If I would have known! If I would have known!

God, I would have held her tighter. I would have lingered longer. I would have…

Four years ago, I sat next to your bedside. I wondered, are you in pain? Do you know what’s happening? Do you know I am here? My gut stuck to my spine, wondering how much longer you’d be “with us”? An odd numbing within, which now I see as amazing keeping grace. Your life ebbing through my hands like liquid, with absolutely no way to contain it or keep it from flowing. The memory is as vivid as the day it happened.

Today, I will sit with the memories. Today, I will not rush past the pain. Today, I remember that four years ago you began your journey HOME.

Today (ALWAYS) I remember you, My Precious Girl ❤

Does it matter?

I’ve written about my Dad and siblings (The Oldest Girl, A Little Boy, The Dreamer, A Tortured Soul). Sometimes creative, sometimes just letting words flow from my heart into the page. My mind is filled with questions without answer. My mind is replete with scenarios that get called up time and again.

I come from a large family. Somewhere along the way I’ve landed on my “own”. Out of all my siblings three of us remain. The connection between us, if there ever was one, is gone. One sits all alone having recently lost his wife. They never had children of their own. The other navigates the limitations of his aging body along with his ailing wife, somehow alone.

How does all this play out?

I’ve watched my Dad’s end (The Unexpected) in horror. My Mom’s strength and vitality withered away slowly. Her dignity shattered as I had to care for her in every way. Her lifeless frame shipped like cargo(The Unforgettable Crate), words said to me by the mortuary.

The marking of time. Such a strange phenomenon. Like an eternity, yet like yesterday.

I wonder, does it make a difference whether you have a lot of family or not? Does closeness remain? Are we really in this together? In the end will I be surrounded or alone?

In the end, does any of this matter?

“The challenge of death comes to us all, and no one can die for another. Everyone must fight his own battle with death by himself, alone…I will not be with you then, nor you with me”

Luther

Waiting Room

Sitting in the waiting room flooded by memories of my girl. It’s an interesting phenomena that I never know from where it’s going to come.

The thoughts of those first visits where so much unknown lingered, to those “final” visits where she could barely keep herself up. In fact, there’s the one where she was literally slouched in her wheelchair not even able to open her eyes. My goodness what a journey!

Today I sit, by myself, waiting for my body to be put through prodding and pushing. No anxiety of the outcome. No wondering what’s next. Simply sitting here flooded with the memories of my girl.

Heading into her fourth year that she went to glory, yet the images are of “today”. Vivid, gripping my heart to a degree I thought wasn’t possible – again! Sometimes I wonder if the pain of her absence will subside, then these days happen with a brazen reminder that the gap in my heart remains wide open.

And, so, the testing and the prodding left me bruised and achy. But this physical pain will subside. It’s outcome is already in the hands of the One who holds my every moment in His hands.

The waiting room will come again…I know. For now, I will rest and recover. For now, I have peace because the God of peace is with me.

The One

What if I had been born into another family?

What if my Mother was my best friend?

What if my Dad was my hero?

The perfect parents…the perfect upbringing…

BUT who, what dictates “perfection”?

What if I hadn’t been sexually abused as a child?

What if I hadn’t been beaten by my protector?

What if my parenting was flawless?

The fairy tale life…the life worth emulating…

BUT where do we find “perfection”?

Not excusing, but not demanding answers either. I’m transported to the last doctor’s appointment of my daughter’s journey. The Doctor said to me, “Why didn’t you bring her here sooner?” That sharp dagger that I had been wielding, was plunged into my soul by another. Speechless, lost in the barrage of accusations that already invaded my soul. Yes, if only…and, the what ifs…

We are a peculiar people. We swear that we will never. We demand our rights. We all want something better than Eden. There’s eternity in our hearts. There’s a sense of right and wrong. There’s a longing desire for The One who alone is perfect. Who alone loves perfectly.

“O soul are you weary and troubled? No light in the darkness you see? There’s light for a look at the Savior And life more abundant and free

Turn you eyes upon Jesus / Look full in His wonderful face / And the things of earth will grow strangely dim / In the light of His glory and grace…”

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus by Alan Jackson

Counterpart

The weight of darkness even amidst the light. The loud, relentless chatter amidst the silence. Sinking…sinking…sinking. How is it possible to sink without knowing it?

My unwelcome Companion has a counterpart. Not always, but at times it makes its appearance. I’m continually learning to surrender and accept The Companion, but it’s counterpart shakes me to the core.

I have not learned its tricks, yet. When I know it’s here it’s because I’m sinking in its grip. And, honestly, it lulls me to a degree that it feels soothing and inviting. Not until I’m “outside” it’s lure can I see it’s horrifying end and destruction.

As a Believer in Jesus Christ, I am fully aware that my life is not my own; that my life is a gift; that it’s beginning and end are not mine to wield. Yet, in the midst of my sinking thoughts, this Truth is not something I go to.

My sister took her own life, so you’d think remembering the heartache and devastation this left behind, that would shake me into reality.

Or…focusing on the many, many blessings around me. Or…I’m sure you can write a litany of things that SHOULD knock some sense into me. Yup, I’ve had those lists for others, and the shake of the head when they did not keep my list. Oh, may God forgive me for thinking I had all the answers. HE is the only answer and the only One who knows each person intricately and individually, including me.

And, so, I’m here, looking back at “that pit”, AGAIN. Grateful, that God in His amazing grace and mercy has plucked me out – AGAIN; that today the “sun-is-shining” and that the next step is all that is needed.

Grateful for another moment of clarity. 

Unending Grief

It comes in waves

Waves that relentlessly pound

Waves that smash you into a wall

One picture…one memory…is all it takes

The reality that a warm hug is not an option

that she’ll never walk through the door

that she’s gone – forever!

The emptiness of her absence brings

a sting that doesn’t subside

a deep ache that permeates my very soul

Say her name…please say her name

Remember her…please remember her

My beautiful girl, how I miss you…

Limited

There is an allure to the heroic. The little engine that “couldn’t” just doesn’t sound appealing. There’s a mindset of pushing ones limits; of attempting the impossible; setting the ultimate record.

Somehow the mother who “just raised” her children is not as heroic as that woman who conquered the corporate world. Funny thing is, that even when we say “this doesn’t bother us”, it may just put a bolder in our shoe that just makes for some funky walking.

I hit a wall…again. It surprised me, yet it didn’t. It discouraged me, yet it didn’t. Such mixture of emotions. Such a sense of failure. Such a reminder of being a limited being.

Ever since I can remember I’ve had to have “my own back”. Watching out for myself, and, kinda-sorta being there for everyone in need. After my daughter passed away I literally fell apart. My therapist reminded me that the passing of my daughter was NOT what undid me. I almost fired her for the umpteenth time. How dare she say that! But in the depth of my being I wondered…

She went on to say that I had kept “myself” together with all sorts of things. My daughter’s passing was simply the event that unraveled, even the duct tape.

Ah the reality of being a limited human being. Not something we like to admit. Just recently I heard a podcast that spoke about a “God-complex” wanting to be everyones savior, including me. They mentioned that it takes humility to accept that we need food, sleep, rest, etc. in order to keep functioning. That in our pride we don’t trust God to handle ‘fill in the blank’. Ouch!

Ya think I would have this lesson down packed, right? NOT!!! We are forgetful people that need to be reminded, time and again.

Watching my daughter ebb away with absolutely nothing I could do to stop this, I thought, I had grasped my limited abilities. But, no, I still need to be reminded.

I’ve been meditating on the following:

Job 38:1-7, Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said:  “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me.  “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.  Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?  On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

I am limited! God is not!

Ephesians 3:14-19, For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love,  may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Another April

Another April℘

I sit here, a few days short before another birth-day. LORD willing, fifty-four is in the horizon. Pondering that (age) for a moment…if I lived as long as my mother, then I have twenty-four more years to go. TWENTY-FOUR! Yup, that would mean I have less life to live than I’ve lived thus far. And, I have lived beyond my sister’s forty-one short years. And, way beyond my daughter’s thirty years. Now, I have a granddaughter, who I hope to enjoy for many many years.

Legacy. Women who share the same bloodline.

What lives on? What stays behind? What do we impart that creates ripples of joy and a sense of pride? What do we impart that brings guilt, shame…heartache and pain?

The intricacy of life is puzzling…mysterious. What I had said, “I’d never do”, that I have done. What I had said, “I’d never say”, I have said. How easy it is for me to look back an relentlessly dissect my mother’s mothering. Oh, how easy it is to cast a judgmental light upon all her “mistakes”, while I cry out for mercy and forgiveness for the insurmountable mistakes I have made and continue to make.

What is it about life that lessons are best learned while we are navigating it, rather than learning from others mistakes? Do we dare say, “we have arrived”, while not realizing that the next lesson is right around the corner?

I am the older woman. I am the gray haired shadow of that once cocky being. I am the one that feels that NOT being here – anymore – would alleviate all the sorrow and pain. I am, by God’s amazing grace, still here able to see a new life come into this world. My breath is a gift. How long? Only God knows, and He is worthy of all my trust.

Yup, another birthday is on the horizon. It will come and go. Life will continue. But may I never forget that I have been given much, much to be grateful for♥†

Kindled Gratitude

Fatigued and weary, I entered that room. Who knew “it” would become a place of worship? Who knew the God of all creation would flood me with His love. A midst the clamoring weights, a Presence that would break through the dark.

I was reminded of that ditch. How did I not die there? How did I crawl out? Why didn’t he kill me? What made him stop the brutality?

I was reminded of that barrel at my temple. What happened? Why didn’t he pull the trigger? What scared him away? How did I find the will to move?

And, so it went. Picture after picture…none scared me, none made me angry. I breathed, “Why me?” Not “why me”? as in why did such and such happen to me, but in “why am I still here?” “how did I survive, and others didn’t?”

Not everyone escapes

Not every suicide attempt is thwarted

I think of sitting at our dinner table speaking hard things, deep things…not the norm.

I think of sitting with my hubby…sometimes talking, sometimes silent.  Oh, the peace and tranquility…not the norm.

Even my daughter’s last days, last moments…final breath. In her room, on her bed. Me by her side as she took her final breath and her final heart beat still palpable on my palm. Yeah, NOT THE NORM. I think of My Grieving Friend who got “that call” and had to go identify pieces of her precious son. Of that Momma who got “that call” that her son had hung himself. Of that life that ended in a ditch with no one to say goodbye.

Psalm 106:7, “…They did not remember Your abundant kindness…” — Oh God, may I not take for granted Your abundant kindness. May I have a heart of gratitude as I recollect ALL that has been given to me; all that has been granted.

“…AMAZING GRACE, HOW SWEET THE SOUND THAT SAVED A WRETCH LIKE ME…”

May I continue to have eyes to see beyond the here and now. May I cultivate a heart of gratitude and NEVER, ever forget where I’ve been and where I’ve come from. Every tool has chiseled me into the person I am today. My story continues…

 

Expectant

To that new life that is being formed in your Mommie’s womb:

  • May I dream with you and believe in fairy-tale endings
  • May I believe that there is hope for the future
  • May I allow you to wear your rose colored glasses
  • May I laugh with you and cry with you
  • May I be silly and serious
  • May I jump in the puddles, bask in the sun or run in the rain…with YOU

Oh, that I may learn that you will have your own life journey. May I not taint it with my doom and gloom. But most importantly, may you know that you are LOVED no matter what♥

We anxiously await YOUR arrival🌺