A conversation with a not quite 4 year old...

A few days ago, just out of the blue, Keegers said to me, "Mommy, when you go to Heaven, can you please come back?  I don't want you to leave me and Suttie Joe alone."


He was so clear in his question, yet I had no idea of what to say in response.


He's so smart, and of course I try to never lie to him.  I try, and that time when I told him that if he didn't start sleeping in his bed I was going to take his birthday... well it was a moment of weakness.  But in the past when he's chosen to believe that Grandma was with Kevin in the sky... we kinda let it go.  It seemed like a nice enough thought for me, Grandma, just hangin with her good buddy Kevin. 


I struggled from the start on how to explain to him that Grandma was dead, and that she couldn't come back, but that's a lot for a little guy.  We never told him she was asleep, because she wasn't.  We tried to explain that it was her heart that stopped, but don't want him getting alarmed when someone says, "Oh that just breaks my heart..."  So we simply told him that Grandma was dead, and that we were going to miss her.  Hearing his little voice say, "My grandma's dead" always causes me a little pain.  But it's true, whether he says it or not.


So to hear him say that he wanted me to come back from Heaven, well it threw me.  It threw me, because of course I don't want to leave them.  I feel guilty going to the store alone... let alone leaving them forever.... but it also threw me, because he's not quite 4.  It seems like such a young age for him to be processing all of this.  It threw me that at not quite 4, he's learning what REAL separation anxiety is like. 


So I lied.  Or maybe I didn't.  I don't know. 

I said to him, "Keegers--It doesn't work that way, remember?  Once you go to Heaven, you can't come back, even if you really, really want to.  That's why Grandma can't come and play with us any more.  But you don't have to worry....Mommy's not going to Heaven for a very long time.  I'm going to stay with you and Suttie Joe for a very, very long time."

Because at some point, hopefully when I'm very, very old, and I've watched them grow, and when they no longer need me... I'll slip off as peacefully as my Mom did... to go and hang with my good friend Kevin.  And I hope at that time, that I've done as good of job of letting them know how much their mom adores them as my mom did for me. 

Certificate of Participation

I've been thinking a lot about certificates lately.

A few weeks ago I got copies of my grandpa and grandma's death certificates in the mail to deal with part of my grandpa's estate.  My mom was a beneficiary of course, so since she's gone, that falls to the girls and I to deal with.  To do that, I have to submit those certificates, along with my mom's and then also my birth certificate.

So on your first day of life, you get a birth certificate.  On this tiny slip of paper, you will find basic information.  This is your name.  These are your parents.  This is where you were born.  It says NOTHING about what your parents were thinking, or hoping, or praying.  It says nothing of what they dreamed for you, or what you meant to them.  This is your Proof of Enrollment.

On your last day of life, you get a death certificate.  On this slightly bigger piece of paper you will find more basick information.  This is your name.  These are your parents.  This is where you were born, this is where you died.  This is what your job was, this is who you married.  And sadly, this is why you died. (Myocardial Infarction).  They should call this a Certificate of Completion.

These pieces of paper seem so important to so many people/companies/etc.

But I want another certificate.

I want a Life Certificate.  A "Certificate of Participation" if you will. 

Where is the paper that tells what Cynthia Ann "Little" Murphy dreamed.  Where's the paper that says. "This is who you loved, and who loved you?"  Where is the paper that says you loved to travel, wear high heels, and play cards?  Where's the certificate that says you once made two batches of cheesy potatoes... and forgot to add the cheese to both?

Where's the certificate that says that you were a devoted daughter, sister, wife, and mother.

Where is the certificate that says you adored your grandchildren?

Where's the certficate that says you held the S a little longer than needed when you said Miami County Courthoussssse?

We have those papers to tell us how you were born, and how you died. 

But the one that is most important to me... the one no one gave me, is the one that said this is how you LIVED...

What I know

Here's what I know.

That sentence used to be different.

At first, I wrote, "Here's what I believe"

But there is a difference between believing something and knowing something.

example... they believed the earth was flat...

So here is what I know.

I know, that when someone passes away, their life is not over.

I know that they transistion from their life here, to their life in the afterworld.

I know this.

I know this, because I have proof.

Again, this is what I know... not what I believe, and CERTAINLY not what YOU believe. 

Because honestly... I don't really care what you believe.

Here is the proof that I have.

Years ago, I lost a very good friend.  She was the good friend... I had infact NOT been a very good friend.

After her death, I carried around terrible grief and guilt for years. 

And then, because she was the better friend, and because she knew I had suffered enough, she came to me.

She came to me in a dream, and simply smiled at me.  And with that smile, I knew that I was forgiven.

I know that she forgave me.

When my grandmother passed away, my dad grieved for her.  Just like with us, his mom had been a huge influence and part of his life. 

He still needed her.

And so she came to him one last time.  In a dream.

She came and told him that she was ok... but that she wouldn't be coming back to see him any more. 

If Grandma was anything, she was true to her word.  And true to her word, she hasn't been back.

And my Mom...

Of course my Mom would be checking in on us.

Last Sunday marked the 22nd anniversary of my "3-Wheeler Accident".

The accident that nearly killed me, that caused me to spend 27 days in the hospital, which in turn caused my Mom to spend 27 days in the hospital.

Because that's what she did... she took care of us.

So it's no surprise that she has been to see my Dad several times.  His need for her comfort is great.

There are times that she checks in that we know it... there are times we just sense it.

It might be when we are just sure we heard her breathing... or when she left a trace of her perfume.  

The boys haven't told me, but I'm sure that there are times when they giggle in their sleep that she's been to see them too.

Karri has ALWAYS been intuitive... so I'm sure if Mom hasn't been there yet, she will be, but that's Karri's story to tell.

She's been to see Lindsey too.  More proof that Mom's ok... but that she's still worried about us.  I know that when Owen woke Lindsey up recently, in the middle of a dream, it was really less of a dream, and more of a conversation.   In that instance, Lindz had gone to see Mom at work, and she was there. Lindsey told Mom that she had died and started crying. At hearing this, Mom immediately got excited and said, "that means we can all have a pinoche tournament, even with Aunt Toots."

And then, Mom being Mom, she looked at Lindsey and said, "oh Honey, I am so sorry!" then she hugged Lindz really tightly and cried with her.

Yes, she is dead.  I know this.  Not a moment of my life goes by that I don't know this.  

But I also know this.  

My Mom is dead, but her life is not over.

My Mom is dead, but her involvement in my life is not over.

I know this. 

I take comfort in this.

It's not enough, but it's something.

Happiness = Forgetting to Remember

When my grandpa passed away, my aunts and cousins had the daunting task of cleaning out his house. 

I stopped by, but let's be honest, I was little to no help at all.  

We were able to pick out a few things if we wanted to take them.  There was nothing that I really had to have...but in the garage I saw a painting that I couldn't pass up.

It was a painting that had hung in their home for as long as I can remember, and had been painted by my Grandma Snookie's sister Aunt Toots.  (ok, Vertis and Flossie...)

I hated to see it be thrown out, not just because I liked it, but also because my mom had a very special relationship with her Aunt.

I brought it home, not really sure of where I would put it, but knew that I would find a place for it.

The other day, it hit me where the perfect place would be!  I was SO very excited!  I just knew that Mom was going to be thrilled when she came to visit and saw it hanging in my house!  I was so happy that I headed to the phone to call....

I was happy.

I was happy.

I. Was. Happy...

because I had forgotten.

I had forgotten that she won't ever come and see it

I had forgotten that she can't pick up the phone

I had forgotten the void in my life

I had forgotten the hole in my heart.

I had, for just the briefest moment, forgotten...and I was happy.

Damn it!  I WAS HAPPY!  My Mom was alive and I was happy!

and then I remembered.....

I'd like to forget again please.

I didn't realize how hard Mother's Day was going to be this year... until I started to see all those Facebook profile pictures of people with their Moms....

I really hate that I don't have more pictures of me with my Mom.... and that I lost my chance to get them.

Getting lost without my roadmap.

I can't remember if I shared this before or not.  I had bookmarked it on my computer and just saw it again.  Her story sounds so similar to our own.

This quote in particular hit home pretty hard. 

"The greatest woman I have ever known is my own mother, who passed away suddenly last fall. She was and still is my compass, she is my North."

My mom was TOTALLY the compass.  She worked silently to help guide us in the right direction, but knew that ultimately we had to be the ones to decide it was the right way for us.  She was the navigator, the keeper of the roadmap.  How can you find your way without that?

I don't think I'll be able to find an update on Garmin that measures up to what Mom did for us.

I'm not lost.  We Murphys NEVER get lost... but I certainly AM bewildered!

Anyway... if you have a spare minute, check out the blog entry.  Elisabeth Rohms (Law and Order) Blog's about losing her mom