Nine Years

Eight Years

"We find a place for what we lose. Although we know that after such a loss the acute stage of mourning will subside, we also know that a part of us shall remain inconsolable and never find a substitute. No matter what may fill the gap, even if it is completely filled, it will nevertheless remain something changed forever..."  ~Sigmund Freud

Seven Years

Today I am overwhelmed with sadness. Seven years ago today, on a Wednesday evening, my life changed forever! A little earlier that evening, we had gotten some worrying phone calls that indicated there was a possibility my parents had been in a car accident in Atlanta. We tried unsuccessfully to communicate with them, and without being able to do much more, had uneasily started our evening routine, worried but hoping there had been some type of misunderstanding. I gave my daughter a bath and then we sat on the living room coloring some Christmas pictures.

Around 7 or 7:30PM there was a knock on the back door, and through the glass I saw the face of one of my parents old friend that lived closed by. I have no words to describe how I felt at that moment. My knees started to buckle under me, because I knew something horrible had happened for him to be at my door. I could not make myself open the door for him, and while screaming, I grabbed my daughter, ran to our bedroom, and closed the door. I knelt down pleading to God to be with me at this moment because I felt like I could not breathe. I did not know what had happened yet, but I had no doubt it involved death. Kaitlin was kneeling by me also praying, so distressed at seeing me like this. I got up and sat on the rocking chair rocking her, assuring her that things would be fine. I was really trying to assure myself.

In the kitchen, I could hear the voices talking to my husband. The pastor’s wife and one of my good friends were also there and they tried to come in to the room to talk to me, but I just could not. I turned them away; I just was not ready to hear their words. For a long time, I sat there rocking Kaitlin, crying for God to help me, praying. I heard everybody leave, and I knew it was time to find out. I was kneeling down in the middle of the room holding Kaitlin when Joel came into the room. The look in his face confirmed what I already knew… Looking at him, I just lifted two fingers (meaning if both of them had passed away), he understood and shook his head and lifted just one finger. “Which one?” I asked…. “Your mom.”

Incredibly, a sense of peace overtook me. Shock is a great thing! It protects your body from the initial unbearable pain. I told Joel “I feel a sense of peace knowing it was her and not my dad”. My dad and I have always had a very rocky relationship. Actually, I always had a rocky relationship with both my parents, but since the birth of my daughter Kaitlin, my mom and I had finally found a way to relate to each other and develop a relationship more similar to a friendship than that of a mother-daughter. We talked on a daily basis for hours. I always went to her whenever I was preparing a program for church. We both shared the same passion for Children’s Ministries. My relationship with my dad had remained unchanged since my childhood. He still related with me as if I was a 12-year-old child and I in return related to him as a child would. At that moment, I felt that if it had been my dad the one to pass away, the guilt and all the unresolved issues we had would have been harder for me to bear.

I feel very lucky to have had the chance to repair my relationship with my mother. To have seen her as a grandmother that adored her grandchildren, to relate to her as my friend. However, in days like these I also feel cheated that I did not have the chance to enjoy our healthier relationship a little bit longer. Seven years later, she now has seven grandchildren, three of them she never met. My relationship with my father has improved. I have been able to accept my past with him and I am slowly letting go of the resentments I once held. I wonder if this would have happened had she still been with us. She always acted as a buffer between my dad and me.

I know I am rambling, I have been an emotional wreck for a couple of weeks. This year the anniversary has hit me harder than in previous years. That has been my experience with grief, it comes and goes in waves. This post serves as therapy for me today, and a tribute to my mother whom I still painfully miss after all these years. This slideshow was the one we projected at her Memorial Service seven years ago.

Thirteen: Happy Anniversary

Today is our 13th Wedding Anniversary.

Thirteen years ago today, I was bursting at the seams with anxiety and excitement, and worry, hoping the days activities would go exactly as I had planned them for the last year. Thirteen years ago, I stood in front of hundreds of people and God and declared my life-long commitment to my husband. Thirteen years ago, I was all sure of myself, thought I knew exactly what it would take to make the marriage work. Boy was I stupid.

Today, we have long since passed the fiery and all-consuming stage of our romance. Turns out, I did not know jack about what it takes to make a relationship work. Along the way, the chemistry and the hormones have lost a lot of their luster. We get angry at each other for not thinking ahead, for not feeling understood, for the stresses of real life.

Now we have a mortgage, debts, and housework, yard work, stiff backs, but also a clear view of the past 13 years. Even though at times it does not feel like it, I do think we have have grown closer than we give ourselves credit for. We have two daughters that, most of the time, think we know what we are doing. We both still think our marriage is worth fighting for.

So happy anniversary to my husband, a wonderful father, a kind and dedicated man from your wife, an impatient and intense but sincere woman.

The Years Keep Going By

I lost my mom in a car accident six years ago yesterday. I still miss her and think of her daily. The hurt never goes away. I read this somewhere “A grief journey is like a dance where we take two steps forward one-step back, one-step forward two steps back. Perhaps in actuality the dance never ends. Nor does the journey. It is our lifelong affliction” So true.

Here is a scrapbook page I made last year to mark the 5th anniversary.