How I long for children. NOt just any child. I long for Anna. Especially this time of year... my beautiful girl's birthday is Monday. I know it's only a due date, and she could have been born at ANY time, if she had gotten the privelage to be born at all. But, it's the closest I have. And I need a day to remember her. It's just so hard this year... I don't have my gramma to lean on. And I don't want to say anything to Derek... he's not struggling with it now, and for his sake, i want it to stay that way.

Looking for a job... I'd really like to get in at a photo studio part time. It would give me a chance to get some real-life practice and training, and provide income, all without having to spend a whole bunch on equipment. I am now officially the "un-nanny." My baby is no longer my baby. I'll sure miss him... but I really think this is for the better.

Today I am going to go out in the marsh to take pictures (maybe) and for sure try and find eagles or hawks or SOMETHING... I look forward to being financially able to obtain the mega telephoto that I want. My ability to get those really great shots will go up SIGNIFICANTLY at that point. But it's not the focus right now.

Now, what I really wanted to write... we're four days out from Annaliah's birthday (or due date, rather). She was due December 17th of 2006. It is amazing how much joy that little one brought to so many, without even being born... and how much sorrow accompanied her early departure. We've been pregnant four times - and lost it each time. There are several factors that have contributed, none of which I'll share at this point. Anna was the one that impacted us the most, and impacted those around us the most. She's in heaven now, with my gramma. They're dancing on golden streets, falling before the throne, singing praises. And oh, how I miss them most. I am so glad that last year, I had gramma to help me through this anniversary of sorts... it's tough. And this year... in some ways, it's much harder. Nobody else ever talks about her, and I don't think anybody remembers her due date. I'm certainly not about to start reminding people - I've got the idea that this is one of those things that a mother stores in her heart. Because really, I am a mother. There are souls in heaven that are a product of the love between my husband and I. We knew Anna the longest, and I think that is why her absence is the most painful.

It seems that lately, so many well meaning people have made comments to Derek and I regarding having children... "When you two finally decide to have a baby, then..." or "When are you going to have children?" or "Weren't you pregnant a while back?" or my very favorite... "It's good that you're waiting to have kids. Being parents is so much work, and involves so much sacrifice..." Usually I just walk away. But, it's hard. What I'd like to do is turn and say, "First of all, we ARE parents. We have FIVE children. They are blessed and they do not live on this planet. We are blessed for having the privelage of uniting to bring them life, and blessed with the knowledge that they will never suffer the trials of this life. And we miss them more than you probably can know. We haven't chosen this road - we would prefer, for our sakes and for the sake of those we love, for all five of those children to be with us here. We'd like to watch them grow, to teach them to walk, to talk, to love... but the true proof of our parenthood is this: like any truly loving parent, we want only the best for our children. And the best for our children is heaven. We are not angry or bitter or jealous. And we see the blessing in knowing that we won't spend nights agonizing over the salvation of any of them. And we are happy for them - happy that they are indeed, more than anything we've ever known, perfect, healthy, complete, and full of joy. Since our last miscarriage, a year ago January 5th, we've been struggling to get pregnant again. We've gotten some answers about our losses, and have steps we can take to prevent them in the future. But for a variety of reasons, pregnancy is not an easy thing for us to obtain. Without help, medical professionals feel that we would NEVER become pregnant again. So before you criticize us for the treatments, or congratulate us on the choice to wait, please consider what it is you are really trying to do. If you're trying to build us up, pointing out the benefits of being childless is the worst way to go. We are not childless -we've got five. We are not waiting - we're plunging ahead with fertility treatments, racing to stay ahead of the disease in my body and struggling to keep our heads above the financial waters. If you'd really like to help, pray. Pray for success with our upcoming IVF. Pray for financial provision. Pray for peace and comfort during this season, as we should be celebrating our daughter's first birthday. And take a closer look at your children, and say a special prayer of thanks."
I do wonder what would happen if I turned to someone and said that...

Happy-sad.

This is one of those things that most people don't know. So as to avoid spreading news that isn't mine to spread... I'll just say that someone I know and love very much is soon to marry the spouse of their dreams (and of the dreams I have for him or her). The result is what I've always wanted, but... it will mean that instead of 30 minutes to go see this individual, it will be at least a 2 hour drive. But what a small sacrifice to see this happen! Looking at sometime this spring.

Second, I spoke tonight with my dad about my gramma - how much we miss her. How much we wish certain things could have happened. He's dating a woman who only got to meet Gramma one time (or was it twice?) before the accident. He was having a hard time on the way home from church last night, thinking about how much he wishes his girlfriend could have gotten to know her. I wish that too - my Gramma was an absolutely amazing woman and his girlfriend deserves to have known her. Now it won't happen this side of heaven.

Finally... We're on supression meds right now, and will be for the next three months, until we are ready to embark down the road of IVF. Lots of turmoil surrounding that. No issue with whether we should or shouldn't - that's been decided for quite a while, and we've got peace. The turmoil is in dealing with all that comes with it. Finances, while certainly not a deciding issue or factor, certainly are still an issue. We can swing it - by God's grace. We'll be paying it off for at least a year or two, barring significant outside help, but it's worth it. We've got faith that this will work the first time. I don't have any doubt - not really. The question does get shoved into my head from time to time - what if it DOESN'T work - that's a lot of money down the drain? But My God IS God, a faithful God. We truly believe that this is the way for us to go, and the way that HE would have for us to go. Most of the turmoil is in the arena of support. My dad is supportive and by far the best dad on the planet (I'm biased, but so what?) My father-in-law is supportive too. My mother-in-law wants a child (or children) for us almost as badly as we do, so there is definately support and compassion coming in there. But I miss Gramma - I could talk to her about it all, and she knew what to do (usually), and if she didn't know, she'd say so. She didn't understand all the time, but was as supportive as anybody could be. I had a vague idea at one point that I would have similar (probably not as much or as "close" as with gramma) support from my mom. Thought maybe I could talk to her about it, like when I was much younger and we talked about everything. But it's not happening. She's convinced that all the fertility treatments are sin, messing with God's will, and probably going to result only in heartache and likely death. :( I tried to tell her that we'd done our research, done our praying, and consulted with spiritually mature people on the matter, and that what I need is support, not constant nay-saying and gloom-and-doom prophesies. She said she was sorry. And then that she was entitled to her opinion, and as long as we were doing "that stuff" (referring to fertility treatments) she would voice her concerns, as she'd done a lot of reading. (What reading? If properly administered and monitored, many fertility treatments are safer than a lot of conventional treatments for things like asthma, eczema, depression, insomnia...) And that she'd make SURE we knew how worried and concerned she was. But that we'd have her full support. I guess I don't see those as going hand in hand. Mentioning concerns or fears, asking questions, yes. Spending twenty minutes of a twenty two minute conversation telling me how badly we're screwing up and going to get hurt... not so much. **shrug** I guess this is really my chance to lean on God for support and comfort.

Time.

I'm not complaining - I've been blessed with more "free time" than most people I know. And it IS very nice to have that freedom. Trouble is... sometimes it grates on me. I'm trying to start up our business, and I feel like with no direction, no input, and no interaction, it's a dead-end road. I know it isn't - I trust my husband on this one. It's just frustrating right now.

In the time since I wrote last... many things have changed. And yet, in a lot of ways, everything is still all the same. I'm still learning to paint with oils - although the last two and a half weeks have been anything but conducive. My husband and I are still trying to have a baby. Well, sort of.

I just had another laparoscopy to clean up a little bit of endometriosis - turns out that was a misconception we had going into it. This second surgery was far more extensive (AND PAINFUL) than the first. I had a hysteroscopy, too, which has caused some issues (18 days out of surgery, I'm still bleeding quite a bit, and it shows - I'm tired, weak, dizzy, but mostly I'm just COOOOOLLLLLLDDDDD all the time.) that are FINALLY starting to resolve (I think). I'm on a hormonal medication for my uterus and also on birth control, and as soon as I finish this particular hormonal med, I'll be moving on to a much heavier-duty one for the next several months.

briefing

I guess I'm not sure what I should write, or even what I'd LIKE to write. Other than to say this...

I haven't forgotten her. And I haven't forgotten the shock, the pain, the gut-wrenching agony of losing her. And it still comes back, some times. But it's more appropriate now. More in context, a little more hopeful. And yet...

I wish she was here. So much I wish she could guide me, and us, through. So many questions. But most of all, to tell her that her life mattered. To tell her the she is my hero, the one person on this planet I truly want to be like. And that she is an incredible blessing.

I Wish I Knew...

I wish I knew exactly what I'd done to get to this point in dealing with Gramma's death. What point is that? The point where I do still miss her, very much. And I often times still cry when I think of her. And I'd do almost anything to bring her back, because I still need her, and my little cousin Hannah needs her far more than I. Grampa needs her. My husband needs her. So many people need her... and she's not here.
And yet, with all this, there is the unspeakable peace and joy (although not the sort of joy you might imagine... this is more of a deep-down-know-that-I'm-okay-forever thing than a happy ha-ha-fun thing). I KNOW that she is in heaven. And as I was reminded last night... to depart and be with Christ is by far the best. God didn't say how or when... at any time, under any circumstance, it's by far the best to depart and be with Christ.
I feel that I am most privileged to be part of my church. I know he is "only" a man... but I also know that my Pastor is truly obeying the call of God for his life. I've known pastors that weren't called, and while they do their job very well, that's sort of what it is - a job. As my Pastor has said before, he doesn't "do pastoring" for a living... he simply is a pastor. In that, I'm blessed.
Finally, the thing right now that is hardest about not having Gramma is not really having any outside support regarding fertility treatments. It's a lonely road, and a tough one. Having someone to talk to about it, someone who wasn't personally going through it, someone who was older and wiser, made it so much more bearable. Without that, it does seem overwhelming. I'm not saying I've got no support at all. I do have that. Mostly and firstly from my husband, but also to lesser degree from a few (and yes, only a few) family members, as well as a couple people I do look up to. But the general consensus does seem to be that I'm going against God, or doing something blatantly sinful, or lacking faith by doing this stuff. One of my dear forum friends provided this helpful story...
A man is at home one night when the levee breaks in his town. Water is rising fast, and he cries out to God to save him. A couple minutes later, a man comes by in a boat, and says "Get in... I'll help you." The first man declines, saying his ride is taken care of. As the boat fades from view, the man again cries out to God. A few minutes later, a larger boat with several people in it approaches and implores him to get in. He refuses again, saying that God will save him. He cries out again - desperately this time, as the water is at least 10 feet deep and cold - and implores his God to save him. Less than 30 seconds pass, and a Coast Guard helicopter hovers above him, and lowers a ladder. Refusing once again, the man sadly begins swimming for the distant shore. He drowns, all the while waiting for God to come and save him. He goes to heaven, and asks God, "Lord, I asked you three times to save you. I stood in faith. I believed. And yet I died. Why?" The Lord answers "I sent you two boats and a helicopter... what more did you want???"
What people need to understand is that it takes a lot of faith to undergo the treatments we're doing. Faith that we won't have any side effects. Faith that the treatments will do what they are intended to do. Faith that in spite of a distinct lack of support, we'll be okay. Most of all, faith that our miracle will happen. Because even with the treatments, the procedures, the monitoring, the medications... for us to conceive and carry and give birth to a child will be nothing short of miraculous. I wish I knew a way to make people see that.

Once Again...

Last time I wrote here was the day before a meeting with my Pastor. It does seem only fitting that I'd write again now - exactly 28 days later. Tomorrow evening, we've got another meeting with our Pastor. I'm not really sure what about... well, obviously, it's about gramma. The uncertainty comes in when I try to contemplate what will be said. Not much by me, I'm sure - if all I needed was an ear, any random person of compassion would suffice. What I need is guidance. Not flakey platitudes, not reassurance that I'm doing 'just fine' and I really don't need to be reminded that it's not my fault. I still feel that it is, at least in part, my fault. Not that I did it on purpose, but more that some things I've done set of a chain reaction that eventually led to this.

This meeting will see me in better shape spiritually, which is good. My husband says that I've improved emotionally, which is good as well. Inside, I am not sure I feel at all better, but for the most part, I am better. Not all better. But some. When I do think of her, I still cry, a lot. And when I don't think of her, I feel sad for not thinking to do so.

Unfounded Fear

I have an unfounded fear that tomorrow's meeting may hold rebuke for me. And I don't know why I'm afraid of that prospect, except maybe because I don't know what I've possibly done wrong. It certainly isn't fear of rebuke, or fear of rebuke by my Pastor specifically - I've been rebuked fairly sternly before by him and it isn't a bad thing. He's the first person I've known who could so sternly rebuff/rebuke and still be oozing compassion and concern and Godly love.
The other fear I have is that he'll ask if I blame myself. And the mere question implies innocence, complete innocence, on my part. And that isn't reality. Reality is, specific actions that I can trace back well over a year headed up a chain reaction, and while I did not cause the milk truck to obliterate the van, I do firmly adhere to the belief that what happened can be directly traced to my actions. And that had I chosen to respond differently, had I chosen faith and obedience over outright rebellion, she would still be here. And in his questions, I'm afraid I'll have to get specific. I doubt the answer of "within the last two years, I willfully and deliberately committed an act of rebellion" will be satisfactory. I have told God, and only God, when I confessed and repented, truly repented, and NOBODY else has a clue what it could be. And awful though it sounds, the thing that scares me most about revealing it in the meeting tomorrow is having to see the disappointment and sadness on my husband's face. How lame is that?
All that being said - even if I have to spill every gory detail - I will do it in order to restore right standing in my life. Because if I don't change I'm on a bad bad road, and it will lead only to destruction. And worse yet, separation from God. And that is the one, the only thing that I can not do without.

Bring The Rain
~Mercy Me

I can count a million times
People asking me how I
Can praise You with
all that I've gone through
The question just amazes me
Can circumstances possibly
Change who I forever am in You
Maybe since my life was changed

Long before these rainy days
It's never really ever crossed my mind
To turn my back on you, oh Lord
My only shelter from the storm
But instead I draw closer
through these times

So I pray
Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

I am Yours regardless of
The dark clouds that may loom above
Because You are much greater than my pain
You who made a way for me
By suffering Your destiny
So tell me what's a little rain
So I pray

Holy, holy, holy
Is the Lord God Almighty

Am I Still?

I look at the title of this blog, and think back to when I started it. Almost exactly four months back. At that time I could see so clearly that I was (and was continuing to be) living proof of God's goodness and grace. The past month or so, I've been struggling. Struggling more than I have even considered admitting to anyone. And worse than that, lately, I've not been struggling. Just complacent. And that's even worse.
Tonight I am pondering this - if someone is watching me for evidence of who God is, and what He can do - will they see any proof? Or have I been so negligent as to let my fire grow dim and my zeal grow cold? And I wonder, have I encountered those who are reaching out, and been so wrapped up in myself that I haven't seen or haven'g care? How many times?
I need to change. And I'm seeing that I'm going to need help to do that. It's scary to reach out and ask for this... I'm afraid of getting hurt even more. Or what if when I reach out, I just get told the things I already know - it's time to move on; she'd want me strong, she'd want me happy; think of the needs of others and get over myself; draw closer to God; spend more time in His word; Christ will never leave; I'll see her again. All true. And all things I already know and am trying my best to implement. I need more than knowing those. I need help. And I don't like admitting that, don't like asking, and most of all, don't like that I've let it get this bad before doing anything about it.

Mother's Day

48 hours from now, I'll be getting ready to turn in for the night. And then, when I wake up, it will be Mother's Day. An interesting day for me. I have a mother. She, like every other person on this planet, is imperfect. Flawed. Broken. But she is my mother. And she gave me life. Not only that - she's done so much to make my life better. She doesn't see it, and doesn't believe it. But I am glad she is my mother. I wouldn't trade her for anything. Few people can love with the intensity she does.
In spite of this... I will be spending a large portion of Mother's Day alone, at least physically. I will go to church... I need that. I know I do. As soon as that first service is over, I will walk into the parking lot and get into my car. If I am crying, I will gain composure. I will find a greenhouse, and buy a flower. Then I will drive to the little cemetary in the country. I'll park my vehicle. I'll walk down a gravel path, cross over dirt and grass. Sit beside an unmarked grave. The resting place of the greatest woman I've ever known. Well... not HER resting place. Her body's resting place. There, I will plant the flower. I've given her a plant every year of my life. And I can't give her anything now. But by doing this, I feel like maybe it's a way to remember, a way to honor her. I don't know how long I will stay. Maybe it will be for five minutes. Or maybe five hours. Maybe more. I really don't know.

Adios...

Adios is an interesting word. It's used to say "good-bye" or "see you later." Break down the word... it means "to God." I'm so grateful that Gramma is with Him... it's sort of adios....

I'm looking at the last gift gramma gave me... and that's what's making me so glad that she's with Him. It's a picture and a note that I made for her on February 11th, 1990. It was my way of telling Gramma that I had asked Jesus into my heart. And given my life to Him.

He's stayed with me this whole time, and no matter how much life hurts, He'll get me through it.

Turn Around

I've been struggling with certain areas of my life (spiritually, mostly). Doing everything I can do to make things right, make them better. And it's not been working. I resolve to do something, and it doesn't happen. Not because I refuse - because I say "YES, I AM going to do this..." and then I don't think of it. And that scares me a bit.

On Friday, I went to a meeting/church service. John Bevere (some of you have heard of him, I'm sure) was preaching. God's been listening and hearing me... because this meeting addressed several of the issues I've been fighting - actually, all but two - and gave me the tools I need to move forward. I'm starting the twelve week series today. And while I know that time will have pass to see that this is true, Friday was definately a turning point.

I won't write more here today, at least not until later tonight. I'm not sure what else I can (or should, or even want to) say.

Healing...

I spent the majority of today searching. Ostensibly, I was searching for whooping cranes. And, I guess I sort of was. But why? Because there is something about their majesty, and their call (the sound that I believe to be one of the most wild a person can hear), and their rarity... makes me feel a little closer to God somehow. I would guess it's because those things are something they share with our God... He's the most majestic. He's the wildest. He's so rare - there's no other, ANYWHERE.

But I wasn't just searching for them... I was searching for a connection. A connection with God. A connection where comfort flowed in. Because now, more than in the past three months in many regards, I need comfort. Comfort and reassurance... God, and God alone, knows why exactly this is. Today, while standing at the top of a 30 foot observation tower, I had the privilege of watching two weather fronts collide and brew up a storm. Thunder rumbling constantly, lighting flashing from cloud to cloud, bands of rain racing across the marshland. It played out in front of me like a theater, a production put on just for me, by a God who took a moment to say He's there and He does care.

In spite of all this, I feel somehow empty and alone tonight. My husband is here with me. And I love him so much. I'm concerned I've let him think I don't want or need him... or that I've made him think he doesn't have anything to offer... or that I've taken our marriage for granted. It's weird... I want to curl up on the couch and just talk and snuggle. But I don't know what I'd say. And I'm scared that if I reveal what's really inside, and my husband does what he so often has lately (listens with compassion, and then in a desperate attempt to avoid the pain in himself and to avoid causing me more pain, starts joking around about things unrelated), I'll get so angry with him. Besides, I'm not even sure what is inside.

I leave with this... very early Sunday morning, I dreamt about Gramma. In the dream, we were alone together. I was talking to her, and she was talking to me. I remember almost every question I asked, but none of the answers. I was asking about death... did she know before she died that she was dying? Was she scared? Was she excited to see Jesus? Did that excitement over ride the grief of leaving us? Did it hurt? Did she see herself? Did she know how she was going to die?

Today, as I drove the 75 miles to the wildlife refuge, I thought repeatedly that she would have loved to go on that trip with me. By the time I got there, most of the excitement of the day had worn off for missing her. And I would have loved to have her there. To talk, to laugh... hug... share the beauty of God's world with each other. And I wish I could ask her the questions that burn in the back of my mind.

Only Dreaming...

I dreamt about her last night. First time in quite a while. In the dream, she was watching us, and talking to us - and laughed and smiled, but I don't remember what she said or what she sounded like. My whole family could see her and talk to her. At the end of the dream, I said to her, "Gramma... I wish you were still alive. I don't want to take this trip all alone." That made her look so sad. And then I woke up.
I'm glad God designed us to be dreamers. Because while I have no illusions about this particular dream being from Him (it definately wasn't), I'm grateful to have seen her. Even though it wasn't her... I don't know if that makes sense at all. Anyway, now I'm off.

Lessons...

On Sunday, we learned about help at church. What about it? We learned that if you need it, you need to ask for it. Ask, and then ask, and ask, and ask until you get it. Perhaps my God had me in mind when He had my Pastor teach on this...

The thing is, I don't know if I actually do need help. In many ways, I really am okay. I'm not depressed, I'm not having any issues with suicide or anything else like that. And while yes, I do wish that I had someone to talk to, someone who would just listen... someone who is a woman, a woman older than me, someone who is Godly and of an upright character... someone trust-worthy, Spirit-filled, gentle (but firm when needed)... someone like the ladies I listed previously... I don't know what I'd say. What does a person say in a situation like that?? "Um... I'm sad." ??? I am sad. But I don't think that's bad. I don't think that it's bad to miss her. The part that I think isn't quite as it should be is how much I cry. And how, no matter what the day holds, I think of her no less than every 15 minutes or so.
I act like I'm doing okay, maybe even like I'm doing great. I say I'm doing well. I try to tell myself that too. And I don't actually know if I am okay... although that really makes no sense, does it?

Nothing...

Nothing much to say tonight. I did want to say thank you to whoever it is that read yesterday's post and left a comment earlier. It's strange - it does help to receive encouragement like that. And it's all something that I DO know in my head - and in my heart. It's just that so much of me is saying NO to the idea that I'm not at fault here. I've been praying a lot the past week or so - asking God for help. Asking Him to help me either get over this absolute conviction that I killed this wonderful and amazing woman, or else help me to be okay with that. Although how anybody could be okay with that, I just don't know.
My heart aches right now, but in the end, I KNOW that eternity awaits me. And I am so excited for that. I wish I didn't have to wait...

Charades

I feel like I'm living one endless charade. One where what I'm portraying is someone who's doing very well, and has it together, is happy, is okay. Yes, in some ways, I AM doing very well, and I DO hold it together... And there are moments of happiness... and I'm sort of okay. But really, I miss her so much. And I feel like I should be okay now - or at least be better than I am. Be happy. I feel like I shouldn't be crying when nobody is looking. I feel like I shouldn't spend so very much time thinking about her. And yet... none of it is so. I ache inside. It's like everything good is tempered with sorrow. Yesterday, we had an Easter celebration at my uncle's house. It was good to see everyone, but I felt like it was an empty imitation of what it used to be like. And that's not right - not even close. The true meaning, which is Jesus, is still the same.

Questions

I have questions. My doctor will answer some... like should I be worried about the dizziness? Is there something I can do to lessen or eliminate it? What about the balance and clumsiness issue? The nausea? Maybe I've just got a bug, I don't know.
The questions that really matter... they can't be answered by my doctor. I want to know about heaven. I want to know what the people there see and/or know about those of us here. I want to know if it's okay to talk to God and ask Him to let them know things - and also, if it IS okay to ask, what about Him doing it... will He? Does He? How's it work?
If my focus is on God... and I believe it is... how come I miss her so much? How come I can't bring myself to talk to anybody about it? There's so few people I'd even consider... My Pastor, but I don't know about that - seems like it's not something I should take his time up with... or Pastor Quam, maybe... Edie, for sure... Shawn... maybe Lynn, but just a little. Jeanne, perhaps, a little - she has a light-hearted exterior, but she loves God and she loves people... I just don't know. There's plenty of people who would be willing beyond the ones I mentioned, but I just can't see doing it. And I don't know what I'd say anyway... In some ways, I want to move on and not miss her so much, not cry so much. In so many other ways, I'm not ready to do that. And even if I was - there's so many reminders, I don't think it would happen anyway.
Found a good song today - I like the words a lot. And it's good to listen to. Here's the words:

Bring The Rain
~MercyMe

I can count a million times
People asking me how I
Can praise You with all that
I've gone through
The question just amazes me
Can circumstances possibly
Change who I forever am in You

Maybe since my life was changed
Long before these rainy days
It's never really ever crossed my mind
To turn my back on you, oh Lord
My only shelter from the storm
But instead I draw closer through these times

So I pray
Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

I am Yours regardless of
The dark clouds that may loom above
Because You are much greater than my pain
You who made a way for me
By suffering Your destiny
So tell me what's a little rain

So I pray
Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

Holy, holy, holy
Is the Lord God Almighty

Plans...

I don't know if I'll follow through on this, because it is a little selfish. And it is also a bit sad, a little pathetic... but it's really what I want. On Mother's day - I want Derek to take his mom out for lunch. And while he's doing that, I want to go to Gramma's grave. By myself. With a little potted plant and a little digging thing, and plant a flower. I don't know if it would live or not... but that's what I want to do. Mother's Day, for me, is the day that I buy a little potted flower and give it to Gramma. And talk to her. And tell her how much she means to me. That I love her. That I couldn't have gotten through my childhood without her. That I owe her more than I could ever repay. That try as I may to be "unique" I'm really just like her. Even the annoying parts - which, though they may be annoying, aren't bad. I can't think of anything bad about her. I know she wasn't a perfect person - had her share of flaws. But really, she's the best woman I've ever known. She's shaped me into who I am - did the best she coulud to make sure I turned out okay. And really, that's what mothers are supposed to be. I've got a mom. I've got a relationship with her that I cherish - a relationship I wasn't sure I'd ever have. Gramma didn't replace her... but, to quote something she wrote in her book to me..."My mother couldn't take care of me & for some unknown reason, neither could yours. I know I can not take her place, but I also know that I loved my grandma as a mother and God made it enough."
That's the best way I know to put it - I loved Gramma fiercely, and in many ways, loved her as a mother (not in PLACE of a mother - just AS a mother). And God made that enough. He made that MORE than enough.
And I just want to spend at least a while on Mother's day with her. I know it's not with her, not really. But if I am there, at her grave, by myself... in the country, where it's quiet and I can really hear myself think, maybe I'll hear something better and more important - God speaking to my heart. Comforting. Encouraging. And maybe He'll help me through, help me know what to do. And maybe, while I'm there in honor of her and in hopes of having God help me... maybe God will let her know that? Maybe she'll see... or maybe He'll tell her... I'm not sure how all that works, but I know there's nothing wrong with asking God to tell her that I love her. And there's definately nothing wrong with asking Him for help and comfort.

When?

So, over all, pain decreasing today. But the localized, sharp pain on the right (deep pain, not surface or muscular) is more intense. Taking two lortab will knock it out, but I can't be doing that much longer - I really don't want to get hooked! I know it's only been a week, but I wonder when that will ease up?

Tomorrow, I go to interview/try out? for a job. As a nanny. For a little boy. I THINK he's five months old, but I'm not sure - I could be wrong on that. I'm hoping this is a good fit - I really would like the extra income ($200 a week isn't a LOT, but it is when it's the compensation for basically hanging out with a little kid for three days). :)

Anyway, I have to go to bed. I'm not really wanting to - I wanna stay up and do mindless things to keep from thinking or feeling, so that I don't miss her, I don't worry about finances, I don't consider that I've been a pretty lousy spouse the past few months... but, I'll go. I'll get past the racing thoughts. And I'll sleep.

Sad night...

I don't know if it's just extra emotions from the painkillers, or from fighting infection (and all the sleep that comes with doing so) or what, but I miss her more than normal right now. I wish so much that I could talk to her. I tried to talk to my husband about it tonight - but all he did was jump in with talking about how cute she was and stuff like that. And laughing about his memories of her. How can I talk about how much I miss her, how much I hurt, when that would take this away from him? I LIKE that he remembers her that way - I LIKE that he's not so upset about it. I LIKE that he can smile and laugh when he thinks about her. I wish it were that same way for me... but it's not. I AM happy for her - and I KNOW she's in heaven, and I know that's for the best (at least for her). I know it's selfish, but I'm sad for me. I don't HAVE any close friends, other than my husband. No women that I can call and talk to about stuff like this. Especially missing the fact that she used to be my advisor. When I didn't know what to do - I could ask her. I don't HAVE that anymore. With anybody. And not only does that hurt, and not only is it hard - I also NEED someone like that. I NEED a Godly woman, one of faith, one who is older, one who is wise, one who is gentle, easy to approach... one who is the sort of person (or at least has some of the qualities) that I want to see myself be. And I don't have it. Selfish though it is, that's one of the hardest things right now.

Clarity

Gonna re-visit the entries regarding my surgery. To say it went well is an understatement. As was explained again today...
The extent of the endometriosis was a shock to the doctor. Not because it's such a horrible disease, but because I am really quite young. And because this is one of those .5% of cases where the complications of the disease could readily become life-threatening. The implants surrounding my ureter would have caused major issues, causing me to possibly loose the kidney (or my life or the life of our baby) had I had a progressing pregnancy, as the flow of urine was obstructed. Had the disease gone undiagnosed for another few years, same problem. One ureter was very bad, the other not quite as bad - but getting there.
Meanwhile, I'm hurting a bit more today in a localized spot on the right. As I think about reasons why, one thing jumps out at me... the implants behind my uterus and to the right were located very very close to a nerve. Meaning that any irritation and/or bleeding would affect that nerve. Meaning that as it heals, there will be more localized pain. Meaning I am no longer worried about that. (Well, the fact that the doctor said as much might play into the not worrying a little too).
There was endometriosis on my uterus, on my tubes, on my ovaries, on my bladder, on my ureters, and my large intestine (as well as abdominal lining, apparently) that she removed. Also, there were a couple small spots on my diaphragm and small intestine, she didn't touch those because they were small and would have been VERY difficult to remove. A lot of adhesions were found, as well, and she released/cauterized/cut those.

As of today, I've got an early infection trying to start in one of the incisions, and possibly a bladder infection. So I'm starting on antibiotics (Ceflax) which will take care of them. If the cultures come back as some unusual strain of bacteria, may add another antibiotic, but the doctor thinks that's pretty unlikely.

Relief

To be honest, I'm relieved. For starters, this surgery should have a VERY positive impact on my fertility. AND it will help each cycle not to be so very miserable. As in no more throwing up, sleeping 16 hours at a shot, and so on. And, to be honest, one of the biggest sources of relief is the fact that this IS NOT all in my head. I've been told by numerous people that our "fertility" issues are there because I need to "just relax" or because it's "not God's time yet" or because we are doing it wrong - wrong position or wrong time. Yes, people have actually said that. Who? Not telling.
Anyway, I still really, really miss Gramma. I wish she was here to celebrate with us - to celebrate this milestone that makes it much more likely that we'll conceive our miracle soon. Wish I could call her up, talk to her on the phone... wish I could hug her, tell her she was loved. Make her something. Write her something. Anything for her...
It's late, though. 12:30 AM. Waiting for the Lortab to kick in... as it is right now, my belly is too sore for sleep. Soon, VERY soon, it will ease off, and I'll have my six hours of relief. Then I'll take a Tramadol and that will hold the edge off enough to sleep a couple more hours, and then I'll take the second tramadol later on (about noon) and that'll see me through the afternoon. I'm HOPING not to need any more tomorrow night, but if I do, that's okay too. I'd like to go down to church tomorrow and talk to Patti about the surgery, let her know how well it went... but if I am all dopey, no can do. We shall see - the pharmacist thought that with the Tramadol I might be able to drive... That would be a bonus.

I feel bad for Derek... he wiped out on his bike today. I haven't checked the bike over, I hope it's not hurt. He'd feel awful if it was. It was a silly mistake on his part - bad angle to cross railroad tracks and down he went. Skinned up his knee and hands, and got a bit of a scrape on his elbow and chin and chest. The way he was whining earlier, I think either he's way over-tired and feeling pain more than normal, or else he's probably got some stuff still in the scrapes. I'll have to have a better look tomorrow - perhaps dope him up with one of my lortab first... We shall see. Meanwhile, he's sleeping peacefully, and I'm grateful.

Had the surgery.

I had the laparoscopy done yesterday. Turns out I'm NOT just a wimp - there was extensive endometriosis (Stage 3), and the doctor was quite suprised - says usually it doesn't get this extensive until later in life (early to mid thirties). She was able to remove a lot of it with a blade, and most of the rest with a laser. There were a few spots she didn't touch, but they were very small and located too close to other structures to be worth the risk. The doctor believes this will not only positively impact fertility, but that it will also drastically improve the monthly symptoms I used to battle.

I'm not INfertile... the correct term is SUBfertile...

Anyway...

Friday is the day I go in for surgery. If I DON'T have endometriosis, I don't know what my problem is... my periods have gotten progressively worse each cycle for the last two years. Before that, I didn't HAVE periods more than two or three times a year, so I wouldn't know if they got worse then... This one, I can hardly eat I'm so sick to my stomach, and I'm SO tired (sleeping 12-16 hours a night, with an afternoon nap), and my pelvic area isn't just crampy - it hurts, a lot. Told Derek that if I didn't KNOW this was from my period, we'd be in the emergency room until it was figured out. I'm so bloated that I wish I had maternity pants - just so I could have something nice to wear in public that didn't cause even more pain. Each time I take a deep breath, my diaphragm hurts all the way across, and pain shoots through my shoulders. I'm dizzy.

Basically, everything that would indicate endometriosis is there... but what if I don't have it? What if I'm just a total and utter wimp? What if it's all in my head? What if it's not all in my head, but they tell me it is? What if they find some reason that the only thing that will ever work for us is IVF? We can't do that. For one, we can't afford that. Although I could find myself more work and generate money specifically for that, I guess... but second, we can't do that because there isn't anywhere around here to do it. Closest is Rochester. Driving there each day for scans, staying overnight for retrieval, staying for 72 hours of bed rest after the transfer... we can't do that. Just can't. Not won't... can't.

I think some people question the idea that we are doing this so soon after Gramma's death. It's been 49 days. Not even a full two months. But back in probably September, or maybe as late as November, we discussed this. And again in December. Before that VERY brief pregnancy... the one with gradually darkening positive HPT results, the negative blood test at 3 weeks 5 days, the dark positive at 4 weeks 1 day, the negative HPT at 4 weeks 3 days, the bleeding and cramping at 4 weeks 4 days... Anyway, that's off topic. We'd discussed that if we had not successfully attained pregnancy, we'd discuss the surgery in March. It's March. Derek and I need to keep living our life. It's not a dishonor to Gramma... in some ways, it's an honor. It's saying "We love you enough, and you taught us enough, and helped us enough, that we can be strong. We can keep going."

And when our little Aileen is born, and Grampa is there to meet her... and her daddy is there and whispers the first words she hears after birth "Jesus is Lord. He loves you, and He always will. Daddy and mommy love you." That will honor her, too. Something she wrote in her cancer journal was that she wondered if she'd get to meet her great-grandkids. On earth, her answer is no... she never did. But in heaven... she's got a head start on the rest of us. She's with Anna now... knows her better than we ever did.

Anyway, that's it for tonight.

Memories...

It's 1:30 AM, Friday the 9 of March. 37 days since she left earth. I was going through e-mails from her, and I found one that simply says... "As the Bible says, "LOVE NEVER FAILS". As long as God remains at the center of your life, nothing will ever be too hard to get through." Another says, "I wish I could comfort you, but there is not a thing that I can say that would be the right words. So I will pray for the Spirit to dwell in you and bring comfort to you. I love you both so much. God is good even in the bad times. His timing is not always ours. Love, Gramma." I hope she's able to see how much her words, in spite of the fact that I cry as I read them, are such a source of comfort right now... it's like she wrote them for this time, even though it was almost a year ago that she wrote them.

Class.

Tonight, I had creative writing class. We were asked to write some "flash fiction." Here's mine.
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Ian stole Sebastian’s lawnmower. It’s not that he was trying to be mean, or had anything against him... he just wanted the lawnmower. In the preschool world, that is grounds for immediate action. So he took it. Like Ian, Sebastian was subject to the thoughts and motives that govern preschool. Sebastian did the most logical thing he could think of, but his teacher’s response was less than enthusiastic. As he looked over her shoulder and saw his dad entering the playground, she sternly said, “Sebastian, we do not run over our friends’ heads with lawnmowers.”
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This morning, Janie showed up for daycare wearing the frilliest dress I had ever seen. Her friend, Carly, seemed unjustifiably fascinated with it. Before lunch, the kids like me to read them a book – and Carly enjoys it more than the rest. But today, she looked concerned when I started, and by page 5, looked ready to explode. Concerned myself, I stopped and asked her if she had something to say.
“Yes, I do. How come Janie looks like a president today?”
I must have looked confused. She clarified, somewhat impatiently, “Her dress. It’s a president dress.”
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Ian screams. Not just when he’s scared or hurt – he also screams when he’s upset or happy. So hearing Ian’s screams behind me on the playground didn’t concern me… at least not right away. After eight in a row, I turned to ask him to stop. He stood, arms pinned to his side, howling. Shaw stood facing him, slapping one cheek, then the other. Shaw does not do well with loud noises. They prompt a violent reaction in him. “Shaw, stop!”“But he’s screaming!”“Do you think if you stop hitting him, he’ll stop screaming?”
“Well, maybe!” he answered brightly.
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Afraid

It's so weird... in so many ways, I'm afraid to be okay... and I'm not sure why. I don't LIKE being miserable - and yet I am afraid not to be. Partly because I feel like I'm SUPPOSED to be, and partly because I guess I'm afraid that if I get all happy again, something else bad will happen. I'm well aware that that's ridiculous, but here I am anyway.

I am working on a couple long term projects - first one is that I am writing books - one to my husband and one to my child(ren), so that if something did happen to me, they'd have that. Sounds morbid, but really... it's not. Gramma did that for me, and although she didn't write much, it's so precious to me. I don't want anything bad to happen to me, EVER, but if it did... I want those left behind to have these.

The other project is that I am making a dollhouse for my future daughter (or if I'm too slow, for my future granddaughter). :) It's almost cathartic to work on it.

Today, I took my final two Lortab - which means tomorrow I'm totally without any serious pain relief, meaning that tomorrow, the knee HAS to start improving.

Hesitation...

After trading e-mails back and forth, my family doctor has suggested that I should talk to someone before this "gets set too much"... He might be right, but who's to say? There really aren't many people that I would talk to anyway. Derek talked to someone who we typically get along with quite well about how to help me shortly after the accident - and I ended up getting a big lecture about how it was time to move on (this was a week afterward) and to quit being sad and how I was just having a pity party... and "don't you DARE start feeling sorry for yourself." I guess there's merit to that, but...
Yes, I do feel a bit sorry for myself. Not as in "woe is me, pity me, poor poor Jenna" though. More as in... "I miss her. She was so much a part of me, and part of my life... and part of my plans." And yes, I depended on her and I'm feeling a lot like I've been turned loose without an advisor. I know that ultimately, all insight and wisdom and good comes from God. But He's used her for so much of that in my life. She, really, was the ONLY one other than Derek that I have ever talked to about so much... things like hopes, dreams... hurts... frustrations... dealing with infertility, wondering what to do next, how far to take it... faith... hope... the Bible... heaven (we talked about Heaven and the rapture and such a lot).
There isn't another woman that I know that I am even remotely that close to... especially not one old enough to have the wisdom and experience to help me through. One that gives good hugs, doesn't mind tears, and understands that expressing uncertainty or questioning what to do doesn't mean I have lost faith in God... one that isn't afraid to address any issue...
Gramma and I had a special, special bond. Her mom died when she was very young - she remembers it though. She had so much hurt tied in to that... it helped her understand me. And it helped her understand why, no matter what happened between my mom and the rest of the world, I loved her. And I needed her.
She had a miscarriage - and it hurt her so much. And that meant that when we've lost kids, she was able to comfort more effectively than other people. She had the same love for children that I have (I'm pretty sure I got it from her), and so she understood how in spite of the cost, in spite of the risk, in spite of the pain of loss, in spite of all of that - we keep pushing ahead with fertility treatments. She understood that deep longing for a child of our own.
I talked to her about everything... and it's not that I can't talk to Derek. I can. And I do. About everything. But he's not a woman. He's not a grandparent. He hasn't raised two generations of kids, been through the Depression, hasn't had the experiences and gained the wisdom she had. What I'd really like to be able to do is talk to HER about all this. But I can't. And while there are a FEW people I would be willing to talk to, as the good doctor has suggested, I wouldn't know where to start. One of them simply doesn't have the time, and has things far more important than listening to me. Another is not really in a position to do so - it probably wouldn't look good. A third is the doctor himself - but he's an MD, and how much counsel could he provide? A fourth tends to recommend an approach that I just can't do right now. A fifth seems unapproachable, and there's no solid basis for that. A sixth, while I would be okay with talking to them, isn't in a position to do so because they have other responisibilities, and if I did talk to them just as "friends"... it might help, as would most of the others... but I can't bring myself to do so.
All that to say... I wish there WAS someone I could talk to about this... someone who it would be appropriate to do so, someone who I trust, someone who shares the same stance faith-wise, someone who will either understand or else admit that they don't, someone who will be supportive and gentle... and someone who has the wisdom to actually HELP, not just listen.

Sleepless

I should be asleep... I took two lortab (5 mg) three hours ago... and it did take the edge off the pain in my knee. Ordinarily, it would alsoknock me out. But tonight, it's as if I'm stuck on being awake. I need God's help like I don't remember ever needing it before. I will finish this off, and then maybe edit some images, and then will try for at least a little sleep - I've gotta get up five hours from now. :(

Final Good-night

Today, I'm writing about when Grampa said goodnight to Gramma for the last time... and I'm writing about their last kiss... and the last time he saw her.

The morning of January 31st, she stayed in bed while he showered and shaved. He came in to get her up, and kissed her on the forehead. I've seen these moments in years past, when I would pretend to be asleep between them. He'd bend down, stroke her hair so softly... then he'd kiss her forehead and whisper, "Mornin', ma..." and then go downstairs to eat. This morning wasn't any different. Except it was their last kiss.

They left my house at about 12:45, maybe 1:00... they went to wendy's to eat, and decided they would skip going to Penny's to buy t-shirts for grampa. A couple weeks before, I had taken pictures of the bald eagles down on the river. Gramma wanted to see it for herself, so Grampa took her down to the park before leaving for home. They watched, and she counted 31 of them. They left town...

About 2 miles out, the road begins to wind. Around the first left hand turn, and you pass a greenhouse on the right. At that point, Grampa looked over at Gramma in the passenger seat. The van they were in was the first brand new vehicle they'd ever purchased. Grampa insisted they pay the extra money to literally surround the passenger (normally Gramma) in airbags, to keep the love of his life safe. When he looked over at her, she had her head back on the headrest, and her eyes closed. He says her face looked so peaceful, and she seemed to be sleeping soundly. He glanced only briefly, but it was the last time he saw her alive. The picture will be burned forever into his memory, I'm sure. The next turn, combined with snow, rain, ice, wind, and a milk truck took her from us.

Because of the fact that Grampa was in the hospital for several days, her visitation didn't happen until February 6th. It wasn't as bad as I'd expected... I mostly got to sit with my knee propped up, and my best friend from school was there - she got there early, and left late. What a wonderful friend she is... I wouldn't have handled it very well without her.

After everyone left, we ("The Family") had some time alone with her. Grampa wanted us to have pictures with her - And, not because we wanted to, but because we love him, we did as he asked. Last of all, he wanted a final picture of the two of them. I took it, and then he turned to tell her goodnight. That final picture, the one he doesn't know I took - I hope it turns out. The expression on his face, the tenderness in his stance, all of it was there.

First he looked at her for a while, and whispered... I'm pretty sure the words were "I love you... I'm so sorry." All of me wanted to go to him, comfort him, but I knew that what he needed was to have these last few moments alone with her.

Finally, he reached for her hand, but seemed to pull back at the last instant, and settle for simply caressing her skin. It was covered in makeup to hide the bruises, but he didn't see that - he saw the hand he'd been holding for over 50 years. He stared into her face. I'm sure they did the best they could, but the morticians didn't have her looking anything like herself. It was like she'd had a really bad facelift. The makeup to hide the bruises was so thick, it looked like she had tiny pieces of tissue paper glued to her face. Her eyes looked like they'd been stretched all out of shape, and were slanted up... in short, it looked NOTHING like her. But I guess kindness, love, compassion - those things can't be seen on a dead face. After staring a few moments, he turned to me and said "She looks just like she's asleep... so peaceful." Then he turned back to her. Stroking her hair, like he'd done so many mornings, he bent and kissed her forehead. He cupped her face, and whispered, "Goodnight, Ma. I love you. I'm so sorry... so sorry. You're so beautiful... I miss you." Tears were flowing down more than just his cheeks. He kissed her again, and said "Goodnight." That, more than anything I've witnessed myself, spoke of what love is supposed to be. To look at what was left of her, and say she was beautiful, and to bring himself to touch her, and even kiss her - the most moving, sweetest, saddest, best and worst moments of my life. And it made me realize that I've never seen, never heard, never read a sweeter love story.

The next day, we put her body into the ground. After everyone else had left, and my husband and I, the other grandkids, and their children were all that remained, grandpa stroked the casket as gently as though it were her face. He softly whispered "Goodbye." And walked away, alone. It was cold, below zero... snow was blowing in a clear sky.

Who's to blame?

Something I haven't managed to share with anybody I know is the guilt and certainty with which I firmly believe I'm responsible for her death. When I mentioned it to my husband, he assured me it wasn't so. When I mentioned it to one of the ladies at church, she told me to get past that and said "Don't you start feeling sorry for yourself." Which is sound advice, but I don't need to hear that. I don't feel sorry for myself... I feel sorry for everyone else who's been impacted. Yes, I am sad about the loss, and I wish more than anything that I could reverse time and do things different, but I also know I'll be okay. Anyway... back to this being my fault...
She wanted to take care of me that day after my knee surgery... and I told her no, I didn't need her to. Of all the things I could have said... that hurt her. I know it did. I went so far as to try and persuade her not to come. How could I do that to her? She was happy taking care of people. It's what she did. After the surgery, they came over to our house. I wanted them to stay, but didn't want to make them feel ackward or like they "had" to stay, so I encouraged them to go. After they left, I had this VERY strong urge that I needed to pray, and pray hard, and pray NOW. What did I do? "God, thank you for my grandparents. I love them." And popped in a couple Lortabs and went to sleep. So much that I ignored. If I had asked for one last hug... shared one last story... prayed for safety, and kept at it till I had peace... shut up about the eagles so they didn't go see them... talked more about the eagles so they spent just another two minutes watching... asked them to do something for me (anything)... convinced them to stay home. I don't hate myself, but I surely don't like this. I don't like thinking I killed her - the woman I loved more than I can say.

All I Am...

All that I am, everything good about me, can be attributed to God. And for so much of what He's taught me, so much of what He's shown me, He's used you. Beautiful, amazing you. I think about who I am... and who you were. And I cling to the similarities. Long for them, need them.

People talk to me about all that's good and even great about me - the refer to my faith, strength, compassion, generosity... and it's all you. You are the vessel God used to give me these things, and the example God gave me to follow. I just hope that not being able to follow you doesn't mean I can't still be like you.

I love you, Gramma.

Today.

Today, I am starting to really understand that she's not coming back. It doesn't matter what I do or what I say, she's gone. I won't see her again until I enter heaven. I won't hear her voice, and I can't touch her face. I can talk to her... but will she hear? And no matter how loudly I shout, no matter how softly I cry, she can't answer me. Today, I can't remember her laugh. I can picture her smile, but I can't hear her laugh. I hate that. How is it that I love her this much, and I can't remember what she sounded like laughing? Is it that I've forgotten, whether because of simple memory lapses, or grief... or is it that it has been that long since I've heard her laugh.
Why am I crying? I can't cry without her... I need her to hold me, to tell me it's okay. To remind me that God is good. To help me be strong. I'm afraid of raising children without her. I'm afraid of trying to keep my faith without her. Mostly, I'm afraid of being without her. It's so selfish, and yet this pain is so raw... so real... the tears are hot, and they just keep coming.
And it seems like the world hasn't been impacted at all. I know it has - I know so many of us wouldn't be who we are (or here at all) without her. And yet, we just keep moving along. I don't understand... how can we keep living, keep being joyful, keep being strong... and not remember? How do people not talk about her? How do they live their lives without her? I only wish I knew...

Best For Who?

I feel like it's best for others if I am strong. If I am courageous, and don't let my grief come out. If I smile, laugh, and speak of things like faith and hope. If I constantly remind them that this isn't good-bye forever, but rather just for a little while. But what I want is to cry. I want to scream. I want people to comfort me - not by saying "It's okay" or "You'll be fine" or "Hang in there" but by saying, "Yes, this hurts. You've just lost the most amazing person you knew. I am so sorry." And maybe by hugging me, or handing me Kleenex.
But no matter what I do, it's not best for someone. So the real question is how do I do what's best for you, and what's best for my family, and for those I love, and still make sure that I'm okay?

Shock.

I still feel like I am in shock. In so many ways, I can't believe she's really gone. Where's her laughter? Why can't I hug her? How come she doesn't call on the phone or type out an e-mail? How will I know what to do if I can't ask her?
Tonight, it is starting to hit home a little more. I actually was able to talk about her without crying, and in that, I felt a little glad (and relieved) and a little sad... glad to be able to be strong, sad that her memory isn't more heart-wrenching. Does that make any sense? I somehow doubt it... but anyway, I'm off to work on her memorial.

Pleading Guilty.

I can't help but think that I could have prevented this turmoil, this heartache, this wrenching, searing pain. How? I could have respected and honored her a little more... cherished her, asked her to stay a while. Maybe she'd still have died, but not that way. Not in a horrible accident, one which disfigured her, made her into an unrecognizable lump of humanity. One which has caused my Grampa, sweet, good-hearted, fiercely loyal Grampa, more pain that he knows how to handle. One which he blames himself entirely for.
I feel so responsible... if I hadn't insisted on having the stupid knee surgery, she'd still be alive. And maybe if I'd honored her, respected her enough to ask her to stay instead of asking her to leave, they'd have remained the extra 30 seconds necessary to avoid all of this. I struggle not to hate myself, struggle not to become bitter or wrapped in self pity - and I keep finding myself thinking "It's all my fault, really. I caused this. I killed the best woman I have EVER known. My best friend, my mentor, the one who held us all up."

Broken.

Today, I am broken. I am hurting. I am sad. I am feeling hopeless. I feel alone. My best friend, after my husband, has been ripped from my life. I didn't get to say good-bye. My gramma is no longer here. She's gone. For real. The greatest woman I've ever known - life is snuffed. Now, the hard part is figuring out what we will do with grampa. He can't live alone. I don't know how we can help him out... just so hard. In some ways, if they'd both gone, at least neither would be lonely. But at the same time, I am not ready to loose one of them, much less both.

And while people assure me that it isn't so, I feel at least partly responsible. Why didn't I ask them to stay a little longer on Wednesday? Why didn't I pray for their safety? Why did I have to have knee surgery at all? If it wasn't for that, they wouldn't have been on that part of the road. And yet, they were. And now look... our family has been wrent, torn, broken. I'm not the only one who can't picture life without her. Seems to consist primarily of emptiness, grief, sorry, and tears.

So tonight I am broken over the fact that I did not do my job - I didn't show her how much she was loved. I was too selfish. Now all there is for it is to help grampa, and to make sure I show up in heaven to be with her again.

Deepest Pain

This morning, I had knee surgery. A little later in the day, my grandma had physical therapy. They left my house this afternoon, and took a short trip to look at eagles on the river (it's just thick with them right now). Gramma counted 31 Bald eagles in one spot. Then they went home - or at least tried to. They were involved in a head-on collision with an oncoming milk truck. Grampa was seriously injured - several bones in his face broke, including his jaw. His arm is broke. His chest hurts. He is in ICU right now. Gramma was killed.

Meaning I have to live the rest of my earthly life without my best friend (after Derek). There was so much love that I had for her - and still is. And there is so very much pain at her loss. And Grampa is blaming himself for the accident. And saying he has been living for her for so long and now he's not so sure he can keep going.

Derek and I have discussed, and when Grampa is released to go home, I'm going with him, at least for a while. We'll be finding a larger home this summer, and we will maybe ask Grampa to come live with us (if he wants to). I can't even fathom having my spouse die less than 2 feet away from me, not getting to say good bye, not getting to tell her he loved her one last time.

A lesson... If you love someone, it should be the last thing they hear from you when they're on their way out. Hug them, cherish them. And let them know.

Our only consolation is that she is in heaven now. That doesn't make the loss less significant, doesn't make it easy to be happy. But it does enable us to have the hope of seeing her again.

From Whence I Came...

Because of an assignment for my creative writing course, I am creating a blog. The thing I don't know is whether it will remain when the class is through...

The low-down is that I am a 23 year old Christian married to the greatest man I know. I am a photographer, an artist, a Martial Arts enthusiast, and the home of many ideas. I harbor inside a vast storehouse of experiences, some of which have helped, some have hurt, and all have contributed in the making of me.

In the apartment we are renting, we house 3 cats, 2 hamsters, 2 mice, 2 frogs, 2 salamanders, and a gecko. A low pet count for us.

Lastly, I hate introducing myself.