Wednesday, March 2, 2016

1/2 a decade later

I cried today. The realization that I could still cry five years later stirred me, not because I miss him,
but that his last days could still  hold such a tender spot in my heart.

I spoke on the phone to his sisters in Virginia, and we remembered that day together; one is 95, the other 85.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

in the lilacs

"I knew my Mother's presence as a constant in my life for more than fifty years. 
Now that I know her absence in the same way, and I will know it as long as I live. But more important than either knowledge is her place in my heart, which does not change."
~Reeve Lindbergh
Forward From Here

I raised the window as I sat here in the sewing room today, and I breathed deeply. I was hoping to capture a whiff of the newly blooming lilacs just across the driveway from my open window. In the lilacs are the reminders of another year elapsing.

 Remembering is sweet. Remembering is difficult.
I am thankful for my Mother and the changeless place she holds in my heart.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

I rested my head upon my pillow. It had been an unusually busy day. A memory, a glimpsing in a moment's thought tumbled across my lanquid mind. Three years, it had been three years since I was lying on a mat on the floor and heard my father's breathing cease, his time on earth had ended and simultaneously his time in eternity had begun.

I was rather beleaguered that I had lived the entire day without remembering. Last week I had remembered that February 26 was coming up. Perhaps it is good that the spiculum of those last months of his life have faded.

The day we were to leave and travel out of town to attend the funeral, Charlotte did a report on her Granddaddy. I remember how sweet it was to hear her report.

Monday, April 29, 2013

journal entry dated April 29, 2012

One year ago today, my mother died. I have used this space for the past week to record some of the writings, or scribblings, in my journal of a year ago. 

...and I write these words "warm temperatures predicted" because yesterday was downright cool- cloudy too. The dismal edge hung inside my soul too. An up and down day. Sat with Mother most of the day yesterday. I can't imagine four weeks like this!

Spoke to Gail on the phone. She has no idea how all this affects me. Isn't that a good thing, after all?

I have lost so much times past some of my anxiousness was used up by doing...doing...doing. Now because I am lacking in energy, my anxiety levels seem askew.

If my Mother had her "brain intact" we could talk. She could say the things she would want to say and she could understand the things we say (or what we want to say) to her. That is the part I am grieving now I realize. It's so different than when a person is dying with their brain intact.

The entry  above was written early morning, before everyone had stirred. My time alone, to recap the day before...

She died within two minutes of me walking into the bedroom, where an aide was standing beside her bedside. Her breathing was short, gasping- we checked her feet, they were cold/mottled.
She was totally unresponsive- one short gasp- nothing. Thirty seconds later, another sort gasp- nothing, very faint heart beat- a yawn of sorts- then, she left us for good this time.

There will be a day
with no more tears
no more pain 
and no more fears.
There will be a day
when the burden of this place
will be no more
We will see Jesus face to face.
~Jeremy Camp

Some might say she "waited" until I got home. I want to believe He allowed that because He knew I would want that, and yes, even needed it. I am thankful He was gracious to provide this for me, to return home and be with her as she breathed her last breaths.

She left this world to begin a new life of eternity on a beautiful day in April. She will be buried in the month of May, her body laid to rest beside Daddy, in Virginia.

Claire bought me a vase of roses in a gorgeous color of cream tipped with tinges of pink. I am wondering why do you always stick your nose next to the soft velvety petals of a rose and smell of its fragrance upon seeing one?

Sunday, April 28, 2013

journal entry dated April 28, 2012

The possibilities of today. I look outside and it is so charming, and a pleasant sight for the eyes. Being thankful;- thank offerings always!

Mama- oh, my!

Pain and only eating bits of ice. It hurts me to see her.

I try to spend time stroking her face, kissing her, telling her I love her. This isn't easy- nor will it be. Mercy LORD, have mercy!

It's only a matter of time. Her skin is breaking down. I have changed her schedule of aides coming to 9:00 instead of 8:30. Good.

I was at a hard place yesterday morning. He delivered me. I took off for a while- I prayed...I trusted...He delivered much more than I deserved. But isn't that always the way it is?

"You paint the morning sky with miracles in mind..."

This morning...His holiness. Living sacrifices- a metaphor.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

journal entry dated April 25, 2012

Dependence. I can do nothing without Him.

Wouldn't it be a foolish thing indeed to fight with God Almighty? It's a lose/ lose situation. But maybe that is the core of my intense struggle- am I struggling LORD? Break my heart. Break my will, I pray.

Something has gotta give. And I hope it is me....SURRENDER. Sweet- so far the sweet has eluded me....I can not wallpaper, paint or embellish the bare facts.

I can hardly pray. I don't know how-

II Corinthians 4:16 says, "For we faint not."

Jesus is my intercessor. He prayed for Peter that he would not be sifted by Satan. Jesus prays for me too. So LORD Jesus, pray that I will faint not today. I can not think of a better place to be than at His mercy. Mother's there too, at His mercy.

Today's Tabletalk  gave an appropriate, comforting saying:
      "The death of Christians is holy and precious to God. When we die, He receives us into Heaven; where we rest before Him until the final resurrection."

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

journal entry dated April 24, 2012

Yesterday brought pain, a lot of it. The intensity of her pain is hard to understand. And watching her pain is unbearable. And knowing I have in my possession a source to make her pain better-

I am scared. Perhaps my Mother and I share something here. Ironic, that our linking together would be about this matter-
I'm afraid of living and she's afraid of dying.

The things of life, matters to attend, scare me. The things of death, walking through its valleys, scare her. Jesus Christ is the answer for both of us. Today may we both find our source of strength and peace the cross, in His arms.