All roads lead to...

This was my thought process this morning.

Crap. 
What am I going to wear today?
ugh.  I have nothing to wear today.
Sweater. 
I'll wear a sweater.
and pants
I should wear pants
Ok, so I'm wearing a red sweater and beige pants. 
What color of shoes should I wear?
Black.
Hey, I'm wearing red and black
NM's colors were red and black.
Ball State was red and white, with a little black
Peru was Black and Gold.
Remember that time when Mom said she couldn't get used to me wearing black and gold?

It all leads back to her.
Things she said.
Things she did.
Shoes.
Colors.
Sounds.
Smells.

Last night, Keegan asked me if I remembered when Grandma died a long time ago and we went to see her and I touched her and he wanted to touch her so I let him touch her.

Yes.  It's hard to forget.

"How old was I?" he asked. "Was I two or was I three?"

"You were three" I told him.

"How old was Suttie?"

"Suttie had just turned two"

"She died on Suttie's birthday???"

"No, not on his birthday.  Two weeks after his birthday."

"and how old was Courty?" the next question.

"Courty wasn't born yet, remember?  Grandma picked Courty out when she got to heaven"

I can't help but be a little sad about Grandma not knowing Courty here on earth.

Giggles.

Sometimes giggles lead back to her too.

The other night, when Courtlynn was sleeping next to me in my bed

because I fail at letting her cry it out and Grandma didn't like "cry it out" anyway

road back to her

I digress.

When she was sleeping next to me in my bed she started giggling in her sleep...

Road.

Eight lane, all express, paved with gold road right back to Grandma.

Because I know, that those giggles were Grandma getting her sugar.

It's been over two years now.

That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.

We survived the holidays. 

But more than that, we enjoyed the holidays. 

That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.

Keegan and Sutton had a rough go of it there for awhile.  One night, they sobbed uncontrollably for close to an hour because, "we miss Gwandma Cindy." Maybe they were just overly tired, or maybe they just knew what buttons to push... but it killed me. 

They still talk about her all the time, and pray every night for God to take care of her.

I'm walking a fine line.  I don't want to let them forget her, don't want to push her on them, so I'm letting them take the lead.  They will eventually change their prayers, and I think that will be a sad day for me.

We've had new life.  Her first great grandchild, and new generation of DRB, was born.  It's tragic that she's not here to be a Great Grandma in every sense of the word.

We've lost life.  My dear sweet Brodus T Wonderpup, the soul who was with her until the end, and waited with her patiently, watching over her until Karri arrived, wandered off before Christmas.  His health had been bad, his hearing gone, his poor little knees failing, but he was always the same "smiling Brodie".  I can only hope he passed as peacefully as she did.

In Sunday School a few weeks ago, they asked, "What is the hardest question someone has ever asked you?"

That answer was easy.  It's ALWAYS the questions I get about Mom

"How old is Grandma Cindy?" Keegan asked me recently.

I hate questions like that.  63?  Are we catching up to her?  Almost 66?  Do we pretend she's still aging with us?

Wish I had all the answers to give them, but I have too many of my own.

Candy Memories

"Mom?  Do you remember when we would go see Grandma Cindy at work?  She always had candy on her desk," Keegan told me recently.

"Yes Keegan.  I remember," I said.  "and when she didn't have M & Ms, she would have suckers for you"

"Yup, she did!"



I have no idea where that memory came from for him.  The last time we went to see her at work would have to have been during Summer 2010, when he was barely 3 years old.

It caught me off guard.

We had watched her "movie" a week or two before that, and the only thing that I could think of was maybe he saw the photo of her holding Baby Owen at her desk.  That was the only thing that I could think of that would have rattled it.

We talk about Grandma Cindy all the time, but it's usually me trying to put my own memories back into their heads. I had never mentioned that one. 

It was one of his own. 

Hidden in his little brain somewhere, waiting to come out.

I can't help but wonder what else he has locked in there.

Unreachable

Dad is on a cruise with my sister and two of his grandkids.  I'm SO happy that he decided to go, even if he felt a little guilty about going without Mom.  Mom wouldn't have missed out on a chance like that... to spend that quality time with some of her favorite people?  No Way!

But since he's gone into parts unknown... with cell reception unknown... I won't be able to talk to him until he gets back.

That is strange.  And not at all enjoyable.

I tend to call people when I'm in the car.  Though it's not always the best, and I managed to yell "I'm ON THE PHONE" at least 30 times per call... at least they are belted in and can't get too close to me....

So when I was on my way to the store the other night to pick up some birthday party supplies it hit me.  I couldn't call Dad.  On October 1st, 22 months from the day we lost Mom... I couldn't call Mom OR Dad.  They were both unreachable by phone...

I don't know how people do it.

For those people who have lost both of their parents, how do they live the rest of their lives knowing they can't ever call one of them again?

I do not like it.

It has me dreading the 2+ week trip he's taking this winter.

He's going to have to look into an international calling plan. 

A letter left unwritten

It was suggested to me that I write a letter to my Mom to help me deal with my grief.  But what would I say in a letter like that? 

Would I ask her if she loved us?  Would I ask her if she was proud of us?  Would I ask her if she missed us?

No. 

That would be a waste of ink.  Because I know the answers to those questions.  She adored us.  But more than that, she liked us.  She was proud of us as mothers and sisters and friends.  She missed us when we left the room... left the house... or the state.  So being away from us like this... without a doubt she misses us.
 
So what would I say in a letter like that?

Maybe I would say that the thought of Courtlynn turning one next week... the thought that my baby has lived her entire life in a world without my mom... that my mom hasn't been here for one single breath that she's taken... that she will only know Grandma Cindy through pictures and stories...is nothing less than tragic.

The thought that when Suttie Joe turns 4 in November.. that he will have lived more of his life without her than he did with her... that he forgets her voice and smell....horrific

That Keegan started Kindergarten and will learn to read and write and never be able to read a birthday card that she picked out for him....unjust.

So how would a letter like that help me with my grief?  The thought of even sitting down to write a letter like that makes me sob.  Not for myself... but for them.

If grief the same thing as overwhelming sadness?  Because my grief is just that.  Overwhelming sadness for all of our babies...and all of their babies.... because the world they live in isn't as good as it should be.

I haven't written.

This is true.

But what is also true is that I haven't forgotten, healed, or stopped grieving.

I'm working.

I'm working on being a better wife, mother, and friend.

I'm working on making sure I stay as healthy as I can so that I'm around for as long as possible.

I'm working on asking for help when I need it.

I'm working on patience.

I'm working on acceptance.

I haven't written because sometimes it's just too hard to think about it and her.  I'm working on being able to think about it... and her... without it being so hard.

If she weren't already there..

The first picture of all ten of her doll babies

being here, with all of them, would have been her Heaven.