I’ve made every phone call, some three pages of names and numbers of friends and family and churches.
We’ve taken care of all the details that anyone can think of and dozens more.
I’ve vacuumed floors twice and scrubbed hardwoods on my hands and knees more than once.
I’ve made slideshows and PowerPoints and created alternate file formats and backups and hidden Plans C and D, two Plan Es and a Plan F.
I’ve run out of things to do and I’m dizzy and sick about it.
This has gone on for so long, and moved by so fast. But we’re in one of those places where time doesn’t mean a lot, I suppose. The only time that matters is the time you don’t get, the time to hug a little tighter and hold a little longer.
My heart is broken for my grandfather and the little tiny shards that are left are shaved off into dust for my mother and my uncle and after that there are just the particles that won’t form any cohesive bond for this amazing, profound, fathomless grief.
I see the woman who pretty much hung the moon in every corner of her home. I hear her laugh in my head and I’ve been listening to the tone of the nuances of her voice in my imagination. I walk into rooms in her home and turn on a light and expect to see her there. She. Should. Be. Right. There.
And this is all very personal, and I’m sorry, but, just for a while, do me this favor, please: Send a little thought for my folks for some peace and rest and that little bit of human grace we have to always remember the wonderful things we’ve known. It helps fill up the cracks that don’t mend.
And then, for yourself: Hug and kiss and annoy and harass the people that you love just a bit more than you normally do. Tell them one of the stories you share that always makes them laugh. Put on a mischievous smile, break your diet and have dessert with them. Let the words you say to them today be the really important ones.
How sweet! How precious. We’ve got this…your Mom’s got this…with a little help from you & Lauren, Becky & Jeremy, Aunt Net, Elisabeth, and of course Clem. We all did a great job of preparation & delivery. Your speech at her service was so precious & I know it was tough. For a few minutes some of our family got a glimpse into our past & Mom’s past for we saw so much similarity in you and your Grandfather Aubra behind a pulpit. She is so proud of us right now. We did her as much justice as anyone could. And those moments with just the four of us are a most treasured memory. We’ve got this…and through prayers & great friends we find strength. One day I’ll make it to the beach and take a little breather…and when I leave God will have heard my praises to Him and the ocean will be a tad bit more full when I am finished. She was so proud of you and your accomplishments and you were her hero. Trust me when I say to you that she is sending her love and hugs in the wind that blows, and gentle raindrops are her kisses upon your cheek. You did her proud, my sweet baby, my rock, my breathing machine, my resting shoulder, my heart and my life. And I love you so.
Love,
Mom