Remember

I've been thinking a lot lately. Scary as it is, I've come to realize something. I no longer think back about Mom and instantly remember those last few breaths, or those last few days. I've started thinking back and remembering funny things that will always remind me of her. I think it's important to keep track of these things so I never forget.

If you'd like, please post a comment, anonymously if you choose, and leave us with something that will always remind you of mom.

I'll start.

Christmas
Baby Boom
Blue Knee Brace
Peterson's
Dress Barn
Chocolate Marshmallow Ice Cream
Diet Coke
Books
QVC
Boat Gas
Avon Lotion

I could go on and on, but I think we all could. Please feel free to leave your comments.

Thanks!

Mom

I miss you today. More than you will ever know.

I'm crying. For reals, and I'm not even trying to hide it.

I miss you today.

Happy Birthday, Mommy

Let me be the first to say, "Happy Birthday!". Time certainly has passed quickly. Not easily, but quickly. I had no idea that I could miss you so much. I miss the regular, mundane , everyday things that we used to share. Stupid work stuff, funny things that Madison, Gabe, and usually Eli did or said. I miss you keeping me straight, making sure I was getting draws in on time, I miss you telling me I needed life insurance (don't worry, I'm working on it. No, really!). I miss Thanksgiving Day on General Conference Sunday.

Everybody here is doing well. Dad's doing well. He's learning things I never thought he'd figure out; he's even paying his own bills! I wish Meg could tell you what a life- changing Birthday she had. I'm so proud of her. When she came over tonight I don't know if she's ever given me such a tight squeeze. The kids are all growing up so fast. Madison has a piano recital coming up, it's just like old times, hearing the same songs over and over. And over. But in a good way. I'm sure you know what I mean. Gabe finished up his BMX season with a second place, his highest ever. I was so proud I cried a little. At the track. How embarrassing. Eli is full of more mischief than any one kid should be allowed. And I love it. A couple of Sunday's ago he wanted some milky during Sacrament Meeting, and I told him if he wanted it he would have to walk home to get it. So he did.

I am thankful for my trials, but it doesn't mean I necessarily have to like them. But in the months since your passing, I've already seen tremendous growth. Growth in me personally, and growth in all of us as a family. I miss Jill and Keli's families like crazy. I think we are exponentially closer than a year ago. Man, I love that. I think the void left in your passing we are trying to fill with love and unity, and it's making us better people. Thanks, Mom, for that. For the record, I'd still rather have you back and forget all this spiritual growth stuff. I find myself calling the office (yes, the office where I work) just to hear your voice on the message. I miss your voice. I even try to sing the alto parts of the hymns because it reminds me of how you sing. You do still get to sing, I bet.

I'm so glad I still feel you so close. I love to feel your presence when I'm biking. I don't think it's so much that you like biking, per se, (although the thought of you on a mountain bike makes me giggle a bit), but you always knew how much I love it. I got a new bike today, and if you were still here I'm sure you'd listen intently while I told you all about it, not having a clue what I was talking about. Trust me, it's super cool (are you listening still? Thought so.).

I hope birthdays in heaven are fabulous, because you deserve the best. I miss you like crazy, we all do. The world is a little less bright without you in it. But I'm sure it makes heaven that much brighter. I'm okay with that, because I know that is how it was meant to be. I love you, mommy, I always will.

Separation Anxiety

Some of you that read this blog may remember what I'm talking about here.

When I was younger, like oh, maybe 7 or8, (Not 16 like Troy would have you believe) I had some serious anxiety issues. There were so many times that I actually made myself sick because of the worry that came along with being separated from my mom. Church, school, when they would leave for the evenings. It was bad. Waaayyy bad.

I distinctly remember one occasion when Mom and Dad left to go water skiing with another couple, who it was exactly I don't remember, but I don't think it was Fred and Stevie. I remember them pulling out of the Shop driveway, towing the boat with the yellow Blazer. I remember standing in the doorway (of the big double wooden doors!) at the front of the house and just screaming and crying. I honestly thought I would never see her again. I know I had worked myself up into a frenzy because there were dark clouds, and it was "windy", which mean breezy, but I was a freak, remember? I can feel that some one was pulling me back inside, though I don't remember who it was. I'm sure it was Troy, but for some reason I sense that Nikki was there, too. Anyway, I'm sure those around me thought I was being a big baby. And I was. But there was real fear there. I DID NOT want my mom to leave me. I wanted to go with her. Or better yet, I wanted her to stay with me.

And here it is, some 25 years later, and I still get that feeling of screaming as she leaves me. I feel the pull of people around me, keeping me grounded, and keeping me sane. I see the same dark clouds approaching, but I also see that I will be safe here in the cocoon of the Gospel and the knowledge that I absolutely will see her again. Comforting, yes. But it certainly doesn't make this whole "enduring to the end" thing any easier.

I admit, and maybe I shouldn't, that I've often thought about what it would be like to just get it all over with and see her again. Don't worry, it's just thought proccesses, nothing more than that. But honestly, I know she's happy seeing us here going about our lives, and doing our best. She taught us how to do it, after all. But still, the leaving. It's horrible. It hurts. It physically hurts, just like when I was 7. I guess I'll always have that feeling. Only this time, I don't think people will accuse me of just being a baby.

On The Eve of 7 Weeks

Thank you, Katrina, for this lovely quote. It's been nearly 7 weeks. She's been gone longer than we even knew about the cancer. What a strange new world it is without her. Empty, sad, and raw. We all miss her, every second. Times flood in when you realize she's really gone, and the sickness in the pit of your stomach hits. It's a familiar comfort of nausea. The tears are farther between, though certainly not fewer. I think we've all done something when we think of her up there laughing at us for what we've done, or crying with us in our pain, or reveling in that perfect moment of peace with us. I often think of those she's now in contact with, and I know she's so happy. Her good friend Audrey Drury just met up with her a week or so ago. I know they are having a good catching up moment. But now on to the quote. Such perfect phrasing for what we have been through. I'm sure many of you can relate this to some point in your life. For that, I'm sorry, but I know I personally wouldn't change a thing.


"We don't have life experiences so that we can simply endure them. We must endure them well so that those experiences do change us. That is the purpose of those experiences. If we don't change through them, then they are simply tragic. But if they do change us then they are what I like to call "difficult blessings." They are blessings that we would never wish for, that we would never wish upon anyone else. But if we are honest with ourselves we realize that the best attributes we have, our love, our compassion, our desire to serve, to do better, to be better couldn't have come about to the same degree without those experiences. And so, while we would gladly do away with the experience we would never trade what the experience has done to us. Unfortunately, we cannot have one without the other."

Full Circle

"I would do it all again". Those were the words my Dad told us this weekend after we attended a sealing in Fresno. It was so neat to witness the beginning of an eternal family just one short week after we witnessed the reason for an eternal family. The sealer talked a lot about the importance of eternal marriage and how their posterity will benefit because of the choice they made. AMEN!! I am so grateful that my parents did it right. There is no bigger comfort than to know we will all be together again. 40 years of marriage was all they got, but worth every minute.

I missed my Mom being with us. I would catch myself looking for her, or wanting to tell her something. These are just the things we need to do to find our "new" normal. My Dad is amazing. He has his moments, but he has a strength I have never seen.

Every once in a while a memory of her will hit me, and I hurry and write it down so I will never forget.

A Week Gone By

It's been a week. A week. A week.

I wasn't so sure I'd make it through that first day.

And now it's been 7.

Are you sensing my air of disbelief? Good.

I thought those first days would never end. Between all the decisions we had to make so quickly, and the mental fog that followed, it seemed there would never be a "normal" day again.

And here it is, a week later, and there is starting to be some semblance of normal.

But even with the normal, I doubt things will ever be the same.