Ten Years
This week will be ten years since we lost Mom and Dad.
For anyone new to this blog, my parents were on a boat trip on the Missouri River and on June 9th, 2012 died from carbon monoxide poisoning in their sleep. We didn’t find them until June 12th.
Every year there is fear and anticipation as we come into June and I know the dates and memories are close. I hate this week. I hate that the memories never go away. I hate that my sorrow and the sorrow of my siblings is just ours and no one else really gets it.
The memories of the last text from mom.
The memories of the last phone call with dad, asking him for advice on my garden.
The memories of Pat running the 1/2 marathon at Harrisburg Days, the kids getting a new bunkbed and having a picnic with our friends after church, all the while Mom and Dad were spending their last hours on their boat.
The memories of knowing something was wrong when they weren’t responding to our text messages. The memories of finally knowing the truth and sitting on the edge of the river, waiting for the police to get them off the boat. The memories of calling Jim and other family. The memories of waking up each morning to the reality of them gone.
I hope someday my kids will understand why I make this week such a big deal. It is in part because I want to honor Mom and Dad and remember them but it’s also because I don’t want to remember. I want to create new memories and live in the now and so I force myself (and my family) to go on a trip or go camping or go fishing and it’s always good. It always eases the pain and I know with every good memory we create, the bad memories will continue to fade.
This is pretty depressing for my first post back in a few years. Sorry about that, I’m a little rusty.
But I hope it’s also an encouragement to you to make the memories. Go on the trip. Live in the now. You will never ever regret it. It’s something Mom and Dad lived out the last half of their life. And so I will continue to do what I can to make new memories. Even if that means making my family go fishing.
Of all things Mom
Friday night I was at the laundromat (only 6 more laundromat trips, we are moving into a house July 1st!). As I stood there folding laundry, I was listening to music. I was also crying. Because on my playlist I have a song by Ed Sheeran called Supermarket Flowers. He wrote it for his mom after she died.
For so many years, I hated Mother’s Day. The pain of infertility would cause me to weep and ask God why and wonder if I’d ever be a mom.
I can’t say that I hate Mother’s Day now, in this different stage of my life, without my mom here. But it is hard. It makes me sad. It makes me long for one more day with her. And as Ed sang to me over and over Friday night, “A heart that is broken, is a heart that was loved.”
We were well loved.
Before God gave blessed us with our two little miracles – he gave me two step kids. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I won the lottery when it came to step kids.
Holly and Cody were 11 and 12 when Pat and I got married. It was about five years later when Angel joined our family. All the years of infertility and heartache – I’d do it all again to have her as my daughter. In the card she gave me today, she wrote, “I’m so glad God destined for you to be my mom.”
Oh my word, thank you Jesus.
My almost Irish twins. I remember the long nights and long days. The exhaustion and overwhelmtion. But so much joy and so many adventures.
Through it all I had my mom to encourage and support and help me. One of the hardest things about being a mom these past six 1/2 years has been not having my mom with me on the journey.
But there is still joy. And every day I’m learning how to see it better. I’m learning to lean into Jesus and the friends and family He has put into my life.
We stopped by Grama Barb’s today to give her hugs and tell her Happy Mother’s Day. Our life has been made so much richer with her a part of it.
Seven months ago, we were blessed with our first grand baby. In November we drove out to Detroit to meet Briar Eloise for the first time. We were about an hour away from Detroit and I just started weeping. I grabbed Pat’s hand and I said to him that I understand now how much my parent’s loved Angel and Caleb. It filled me sorrow. And it filled me with joy.
Oh this precious baby girl – we love her so much.
Infertility, step-mom, mom, motherless, grandma… so many journeys. I think being a mom life is about 99.9% finding the joy through those journeys. Many days I have failed at this. But thankfully each day is a new opportunity to find that joy.
Whatever journey you may find yourself on today, I pray you would find joy and embrace it and know that God walks with you through it.
Dear Meyer Family
I don’t know you and I didn’t know your parents. But you have been heavy on my heart since Christmas Day. We were leaving my brother’s house after celebrating Christmas and we were passed by police cars and fire trucks and ambulances. We turned on the police scanner and heard the words, “plane crash.”
The next morning my friend texted me to tell me that it was a mom and dad who died in the crash. She wanted me to know before I heard it on the news. She knows me well because it was a trigger and I wept at my desk but I was thankful to hear it from a friend. I texted her back, “UG! I feel like I’ll never heal.”
Very few can understand your grief. Losing both parents at the same time, the grandparents of your children, so suddenly. Without warning. Without being able to say goodbye.
Unfortunately, I can understand. I lost my parents to carbon monoxide poisoning 6 ½ years ago. One day we were joyously living life and the next, we were saying goodbye to the two who held our family together. If I can be completely honest, there are still days where it’s a struggle to find the joy.
This morning I woke up and I prayed for you. I remember the morning after we found our parents, dead on their boat for three days. I remember waking up and the first thing I thought was, “It wasn’t a dream.” How could it not be a dream? I never could have imagined something so painful. And so I prayed for you this morning because I’m sure you were experiencing the same thing. The same realization that you were walking through something so difficult that it was hard to breathe.
I remember the questions.
Why did God take them together? And then in the next breath we were thanking God for taking them together. They had been married for 42 years and were inseparable. They loved living life together and after many years of struggle and heartache, in the last half of their marriage, it had grown into something so beautiful.
Why couldn’t we have said goodbye? Why couldn’t we have seen them, even after their death, to tell them one more time how much we loved them? Those questions still haunt me and I know they will probably never be answered this side of heaven. Even though today you probably can’t imagine coming to peace with those questions, there will come a day when you will realize that some questions aren’t meant to be answered. And I pray that despite the questions, you will find peace.
Sometimes I feel so silly over the grief I feel from the loss of my parents. It’s been almost seven years and I’m an adult, but I still often feel like an orphaned child. I will pray that you will allow yourself to grieve. Allow yourself the time. Seven years from now, if you still feel like an orphaned child, it’s ok. And I’ll keep telling myself that too.
I will pray for you that you will find comfort in each other, as me and my siblings have found. I pray you will find comfort in extended family and friends. There have been so many people in my life who have stepped in as surrogate parents and grandparents over the years. Yes, there have been times and there continues to be, when their absence was so real it was like a knife to my heart. During those times, there is sometimes peace, always tears and sometimes doubt. But I know I have to keep looking for the joy through it all.
I will pray for you that over time you will begin to find joy again. You will see your parents in your children and it hurt but it will also make you smile. You will remember something they said or did and it will make you laugh. You will remember advice they gave and you will be encouraged.
Whatever tomorrow brings Meyer family, I just want you to know that you are loved and prayed for. I will pray for you daily and I look forward to the day when both our families are whole again.
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief. Psalm 31:9
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. Revelation 21:4
Where is the joy?
On June 16th, 2012, I wrote this:
Dear Mom and Dad,
The mornings are the hardest.
Every morning as we wake up, we are reminded again that you are gone. The realization of losing you is paralyzing and it feels like our lives will forever be filled with sadness. I wonder where the joy is.
“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning. Psalm 30:5”
Despite the sorrow and despite the heartache, I know that joy will come. I know because it’s a promise from God’s Word. And right now that’s all we have. All we have is our memories of you and of the faith that you lived. You lived the promises of God’s Word and you would continually remind us of God’s love and of the joy that we can find only through Him.
We looked through your purse today Mom. It was good. And it was horrible. Jim found a note that you had written:
“God who began will finish. My daughter made a remark on her blog the other day. She said something about how she has a penchant for not finishing things. I never really considered that as a trait of hers, but what I found odd, was the next day the Lord led me to these verses in His Word. “God who began this good work in me WILL finish it.” Period. What good work will that be? I’m not doing anything for Him right now. But I think I’m getting “works” mixed up with His good work. HE SAID HE WILL FINISH!”
Mom, you wrote this last fall and it now brings us great comfort. The only thing that can bring us joy now is to cling to the love of God and to remember that good work that He has done and is doing in you and Dad’s life. We know that one morning, probably a very long time from now, we will wake up and find joy in the morning. Find joy in the love of our Savior and of the legacy you both have left for us.
It’s amazing how grief and joy can live intertwined in our lives after experiencing a loss. God did not leave us on that day and neither did His joy. But I think sometimes we can miss joy.
On Monday we went fishing and it wasn’t the best weather so we were the only ones there. Until two older people came over to where we were. They had their two grandchildren with them and as I saw them, the first thing I thought was, “why.” That should be mom and dad with Angel and Caleb.
But if I would have allowed myself to sit in that thought, I would have missed the joy of seeing Angel and Caleb fish and swim in the freezing cold lake and bury themselves in sand. I would have missed the joy of sitting in peaceful silence on the side of the lake with Pat. It is not easy, choosing joy, but it is something I know I can do with God’s help.
As I look back over the past six years, there has been a lot of grief, but there has been so much joy too! Even days after we found them, there was joy in the celebration of their life and encouragement and love from family and friends.
There is joy in seeing Angel and Caleb grow up and being able to tell them all about their Papa and Grandma Susie. There is joy in seeing my dad in Caleb. There is joy in laughing at the memories of mom and dad. There is joy in making new memories with my siblings and baby blue eyes Cleo. There is joy in the anticipation of our first grand-baby.
There is joy in knowing that mom and dad are with Jesus.
I wonder if part of the meaning of Psalm 30:5 is that in this life there will be weeping. So much weeping and pain and questions and grief. But in the morning – when we leave this world and join Jesus in heaven – there will be nothing but joy!
Oh, I can’t wait. What a wonderful promise to cling to! And so that is what I will do. When I don’t see or feel the joy I will trust in God’s word and know that my joy is in Jesus and the many gifts He has given to us.
Grasp The Love 