It's times like this I really know I'm not a writer...because I don't know how to express what I'm feeling. I don't know how to say it, or even if I should. Will it be uncomfortable for you, the person reading this, if I write about feelings of sorrow, sadness, grief? Maybe, so if that's the case...you might just want to skip this one, and that is perfectly okay.
Don't say I didn't warn ya.
It had been a LONG, and emotional night. Judy and I had been working our booth at the spring fair all weekend, and we felt exhausted. Both physically, and emotionally. My swollen pregnant body ached, but not as much as my heart. I knew time was short. Mom had been in a "coma like state" for 4 days, but technically, she wasn't in a coma, because every once in a while she would reach...toward heaven. I wondered what, or who, she could see. Was it Amelia, my little sister that died during birth? Or maybe it was Great Grandma Nelson? Mom always loved her.
AS soon as the show was over we packed up our merchandise, and headed over to be with Mom. 5 of her 6 children were there, and my Dad. We gathered around her, and did our best to comfort her through her moans of agony...it broke my heart to see her that way. When she would slip back into sleep, we would slowly move back over to the table. We talked about all the incredible memories we had of Mom, and the mark she had left in so many hearts. Tears flowed down all our cheeks, happy and sad. we stayed until after 2:00am, and even than, debated staying longer. Somehow I made it home, and cried myself to sleep that night...I knew that was the last time I would be with my Mom in this life.
The next morning my phone rang at 6:58am,
"Hello" I said, as I slowly woke up.
"Sus, your going to want to come over here" I heard Joannes ever so strong and comforting voice say.
"Is she gone?" I asked.
Joanne began to cry "yes, she is gone".
I hung up the phone, and realized I was alone in my bed. Craig had already left to go to his bishopric meeting, I felt alone, oh, so alone. It was overwhelming, I couldn't bear it, and I HAD to have Craig. I NEEDED him with me, I longed for his comforting warm arms to embrace me like never before in our 8 years of marriage, 11 year courtship. I frantically called his cell phone...but there was no answer. I tried again, and again, and finally realized his phone was still there, in our room, ringing on the nightstand. I called the bishops cell phone, and he answered on the first ring, I asked to please talk to my husband as the blubbering tears began...the next thing I remember was Craig running to me, and we embraced in the hallway. He held me as my body trembled, and lovingly stroked my back. Not a word was spoken, nothing needed to be said. Slowly, but ever so surely, peace crept into my heart. I began to breath again, and was filled with an overwhelmingly undeniable feeling that everything was as it should be.
That was one year ago.
I have had an incredible amount of "life" happen in the past year, so much has changed. In some ways it still feels so fresh, like Mom just passed last week, but in other ways it feels like it has been years. It's kind of like I'm 'supposed' to be over it, moved on, life back to normal, but that just hasn't happened for me. Mainly, I think my 'normal' is just never going to be the same, so I have to make a new 'normal' for me, and for my little family. I really thought my heart would be healed by now, I mean, a year is a long time, but I guess some hearts need longer than others...and that's OK.
Mom always loved sunsets, and a good view. She taught me about this place with an amazing view, and I later taught that place to Craig...I'm pretty sure that wasn't what she had in mind when she showed it to to me, but hey, it was a great view:) Mom used to say "oh my word, that sunset is beautiful. Let's go watch it" or "Susie, there is great storm rolling in, lets go" and we would run and jump in the car to go watch from our spot. I went to our spot yesterday with the rest of the family, and we had a balloon release for Mom. The kids all wrote notes, or drew pictures for her, and we sent them off to heaven to find her.
You know how much you mean to me, and how much I love you. When I look at our perfect little Benson I'm filled with love, but sometimes a little sadness creeps in knowing that you never got to hold him. I miss you always telling my kids how wonderful, smart, cute, fast, and amazing they are...and you telling me. I miss you Mom, so much, and I'm pretty sure that will never change, but we are good...moving forward. I'm so grateful for the pure love you gave to me, and everyone you came in contact with. you taught me so many lessons, in so many areas. Not a day goes by that I don't think "what would Mom do?" or "what would Mom say?" Thank you for your example. Because you did your job so well, we are all going to be ok here, until we meet you again.