Another Christmas without you

Here we are in 2021 and things are still in an uproar in our country and our world. Covid, the election, and what people like to call “social” media, which usually is anything but “social” in my opinion, are the trademarks of the day. The last few days of 2020 were really no better than the first few days of 2021. Still crazy. The only bright spot for a lot of folks was the Christmas holiday, I think (I hope). 

For me, it was just another Christmas without you here. It was our first Christmas in our new home. I had to completely rethink how I would use my Christmas decorations. It was stressful but fun. Downsizing puts a different spin on decorating. I was used to decorating an almost 3,000 sq.ft. home for 23 years, and here was with a closet full of decorations in a 1950 sq. ft.home. It was a challenge, and there were a few things I had to do without. 

The bright spot was being able to have the family come up on Christmas Eve Day to celebrate. The girls were in awe of the little Christmas tree in their room and even helped me take it down when they came to spend the night after New Year’s. Seeing them look at each little decoration and ask questions about where we got them was really wonderful. They loved their daddy’s and Aunt Lauren’s childhood decorations. They love learning things about their dad’s and Lauren’s childhoods. 

After Christmas, we did have my brother and sister-in-law visiting for a few days. It really was wonderful for us. 

Like I have said before, I can be in a stadium with 60,000 other people watching a ball game, and I know that Lauren is not there. I am never complete no matter where I am or what I am doing. I always feel the loss and I know after almost 17 years that I always will. Every holiday is bittersweet. I am so thankful for the blessing of being Mimi to two special little girls who help to fill that void. 

My Joel

 Sept. 25, 2020: 

You left us today. I suspected you would, but I still wasn’t ready. I am still processing a world without you in it. My world has a little less light in it. You have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember a world without you in it. My pre-Joel days just don’t exist. Your family was my family too, even though there was no blood shared (unless you count the blood of Christ). 

You and I were the third generation of Morris-Kerr friends. Your grandpa and my daddy; your dad and my brother and you and me. Last night, your sweet wife Pam messaged me that my son had sent your daughter a note to express his sorrow and love in your loss. That makes four generations, and I know you love that as much as I do. 

Where to begin, my friend? You and I were the best of friends growing up. I remember going to your house “in town” to play with you and Tammie and Eric. I was at Daddy’s gas station and I’d walk down the overhead bridge to your house for play time. We were little then. When y’all moved to the farm, I was so sad. I went to the high school and you were still at the grammar school. We met again in Music Appreciation class. Fitting place to reconnect, I think. 

Our high school crew could not have been closer. You, me, Rhonda and Donna sitting on the lawn, laughing and having a ball. Rhonda got married after high school, so you and Donna and I hung out when I was home in the summers from college. Riding all over the place in her white Camaro with ELO blasting. 

We drove my poor daddy crazy staying up all night playing “Aggravation,”  and singing gospel songs while you played the piano like a champ (oh, how I wish I had half your talent). Your poor mama (I loved her so) would fuss at us, because people in town might recognize that your car was at my house overnight! The problem was, we didn’t care. How many nights did we drive to any open convenience store to find a box of Banquet chicken that we could cook at 2 a.m.? Making biscuits and cooking chicken. We’d send your mama and daddy on a “date” and drag my daddy out to the farm to eat with your grandpa, Grayson, Tammie, Eric and us after we’d cooked up a storm. Course the biscuits for those meals had been made by the greatest biscuit maker of all time: your mother. 

My parents loved you and your parents loved me. Time moved on and I got married to my Richard, who learned to love you like a brother, as you did him. My kids loved their “Uncle Joel.”

Then you met your sweet Pam. I knew the moment I met her, she was perfect for you. I learned to love her and your Katie stole my heart the first time I held her in my arms as a tiny baby. 

There were periods of time (because of distance) that we did not see each other, but I always knew you were there. I’d think of you and you’d call me out of the blue. You’d be thinking of me, and I would text you. We got together as often as we could when I was home, but many times you’d tell me you just didn’t feel well enough. 

You are the greatest miracle I have ever known. You are proof that God is in control. You were dealt a terrible hand with your physical afflictions that would have taken many people down a long time ago, yet you persevered as best you could. God blessed you with tremendous talent and you gave that talent back through music for as long as you were able. You shared so much of yourself with others and anyone who met you was blessed. I know yesterday the first thing you heard was “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” 

I prayed a novena of healing for you, asking for the intercession of Pope St. John Paul II. The first eight days, I prayed it before bed. On Sept. 24, I was led and prayed it in the middle of the day. I believe that was the day that you were taken off the vent and were able to acknowledge Pam and Katie that last time. I hope so. I hope God heard me and John Paul, who suffered terribly toward the end of his life, interceded for you. God did answer my prayer because you are healed. You are there with our loved ones now. I know that my Lauren was there to greet you with your parents, my parents, my brothers and my nephew Keith. So many were happy to see you, and you are well and restored in your new body now. 

You were my brother in Christ and my lifelong friend. You took me to the prom, you loved my children like they were your own. You cried with me when we lost our Lauren. You always made me laugh. We shared jokes and food and thoughts and prayers. You are in my heart and I know one day, I will see you again. Rest In Peace my sweet friend. My life has been blessed by you. Always, your coo. 

Tomorrow is another day (and year)

Well, tomorrow marks 16 years since our beautiful Lauren went home. I miss her every moment of every day. It is not easy and it never will be, I am sure.

Last week, after we cleaned out our attic in our old home, so that the new tenants could move in, I went through and washed all of my kids' baby clothes so I could repack them. I got through that ok, but it is really hard to believe Lauren will be 35 this year. I wonder what type of woman my little girl would have turned out to be.

I am fairly certain, based on the fine man, husband and father that my son has become, she would be a valuable asset to our family and to society. She was a wonderful girl.

We were blessed with two of the best children anyone could ask for. They were the biggest blessings we ever had and now we just cherish the two grandchildren God has blessed us with.

Thank you Lord for our many blessings. Thank you for allowing us to be a part of these children's lives. Help us to be a positive, loving presence in our son, daughter-in-law and granddaughters’  lives. Amen

Just around the corner

Well, I'm 13 days away from retirement, and I couldn't be happier.  It is bittersweet, but to tell the truth, I am pretty tired and ready to enjoy myself.

I can't wait to NOT be overworked and expected to be on a deadline all the time. I am really tired of deadlines. They run my life.

I will miss my co-workers and the camaraderie with them, but I sincerely probably won't miss the work too much. I really love to write, but I want to write what I want to write.

I will really enjoy being able to go to Birmingham to see the girls when we get ready to, and not having to worry about "personal days" because every day will be a personal day!

So here's to retirement, and to our next step in the journey of life. Maybe I can do some of the volunteer work I have wanted to do, and maybe I can actually explore genealogy, like I have always wanted to do. I'm looking forward to finding out.

I'm ready! 

Stay at home gals

We got the chance during Thanksgiving week to take care of our girls. It was physically exhausting for two old grandparents, (I can't think how we managed to raise our own kids, sometimes) but we loved every minute of it.

Our girls love to be at home in their playroom. We took them to the mall to ride the merry-go-round and the train. They had a blast. We took them to the McWane Science Center and they had a great time. But they are just as content to be at home playing "school" with Mimi in the playroom.

Rosie loves to be the teacher, and Viv and I just let her. Viv, of course, needs to also have a role to play, so right now I tell her she is the classroom leader and she seems content with that. I follow behind her and let her lead me through our "classroom" chores that our lovely teacher Miss Rosie gives us. Everybody is happy! (Usually)

I'm sure when she is bit bigger, she might insist on being the teacher. We will deal with that when it happens! I am just a student, because they teach me something every time I get the chance to spend time with them.

The two of them are just amazing to me. (Yes, I know-everyone feels the same way about their own grandchildren and that is ok.) I've said before that they bring us untold joy and they are medicine for our weary, wounded souls. But it is true. They do bring us joy and they do help our grieving hearts more than I can even say.

It was really good for us to be with them like that this year before Lauren's birthday arrived. It helped me get through that day.

14 years is a long time to miss your child, and I am just sure that no matter how many years it ends up being it will be a "long" time.  One minute is a long time to miss your child, and at any given moment, 14 years later even, you can be taken right back to that first minute you realized your child was gone.

One day, the time will mean nothing, but today it still does, and I am grateful for this time with my grandchildren. It helps make this time of missing my child a lot easier.

Two sweet girls on a train in the mall. 

“Her name is Lauren”

This past weekend, we made a trip to Orange Beach, Ala for our son’s 35th birthday. It was us, our son and daughter-in-law, granddaughters, our son’s mother and father-in-law and our daughter-in-law’s sister. The weather was perfect and we had a wonderful time as a family!

We spent time at the beach relaxing and just bonding as a family. I think Rosie and Vivian had a wonderful time having their whole family together. We usually do not get down to see them at Halloween each year, but there was a Halloween festival nearby and we got to see the girls wear their costumes and trick or treat. That was a treat for us!

Richard and I went to mass in a beautiful church called “St. Thomas by the Sea.” We had some lovely dinners out and last night we celebrated our son’s birthday at a wonderful restaurant and then went back home to open his presents and eat a birthday dessert.

Little Vivian, our two-year-old was toddling around holding her baby doll. I asked her, “What’s your baby’s name, Vivi? She looked right at me and said matter-of-factly, “Her name is Lauren.” Her grandpa and mom and dad and I were completely shocked and humbled. I know she has heard us mention her aunt’s name, and she knows her sister’s middle name is Lauren (named after her aunt and our daughter) but I had no idea it had stuck with her.

I think it must have been a gift for us. I believe God was letting us know our Lauren is still with us. It was the best gift I have had in a long time, and it refreshed my weary soul.

Here are a couple of pictures from our wonderful weekend.

Our Tinkerbell and Wendy Darling

Happy Birthday!

Family!

Upon this rock...

The Catholic world is abuzz these days with the horrible news from the Pennsylvania Grand Jury Report and the allegations about Cardinal Theodore McCarrick. I have read several articles from Catholic news sources regarding these scandals and find myself disheartened along with so many more of the laity.

I am blessed to have several friends who are priests, and to know that they are good men, who are as disturbed and disgusted as I am about what they are learning about some leaders in our church. 

I came into the church as an adult, and I believe it to be the true church that Jesus founded before he ascended into heaven. I am not afraid to admit that, because I know that the church itself is not at fault. I believe that the devil believes the only way to destroy us is from the inside. Without priests, we are unable to participate in the Eucharist, which is the source and summit of our faith. So to destroy the priesthood, will do the trick, won’t it? 

I believe the answer is a resounding “NO!” As a matter of fact, I know that is the answer. I know that for every bad priest, there are 100 good ones. I know that my little church was full at mass this morning, with faithful believers who came to participate in the Eucharist. 

Every morning when I get up, I remember what Jesus said: “And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.’

No matter what comes our way, I believe what he said, and that the church will stand. 

My tears were for her, too

Father's Day dinner 

We've been a bit distracted for the past couple of weeks with doctor's appointments and a rotator cuff surgery for my husband. I've been trying to take care of him the best I can and work at the same time. He is a real trooper and has been very patient with me, and together we have gotten him back on the road to recovery. He's pretty athletic and very strong and that does help in a situation like this.

The granddaughters have been really concerned that Grandpa (Pacca) is ok and through a couple of FaceTime visits, I think they are reassured that his "boo boo" is getting better.

We went on Saturday to the Baddour Center, a wonderful place in our community. It is a home for adults with special needs. They have a great nursery where we always try to buy flowers to plant around our home each spring. We are a bit behind due to the above-mentioned surgery, so it was great to get over there for some petunias that we put out on Saturday (My husband used his good arm to plant).

Jennifer, a casual friend of mine that I know from our small town, works there in the nursery. She and her husband have a boy and a girl just like us. Their children are a bit younger than ours, so we did not really know them as school friends. I met her several years ago when she worked at a favorite shop of mine. She helped us when my daughter-in -law Anna picked out items for her bridal register in that shop.

She was there on Saturday and came out to help us. She said, "I've been thinking of you guys lately." She went on to tell us that her 28-year-old son had passed away on Thanksgiving last year. I was shocked to my very core. He had only been married for 7 weeks, and he succumbed to a massive heart attack.

My heart shattered for her at that moment. I could see the pain in her eyes. Pain that I know first hand radiated from her. I wept right there in the middle of all of those flowers. My tears were for that young widow, his sister and father and most of all for Jennifer. I know her journey all too well. I had no words to say to comfort her, because there are none.

So I listened to her. Richard and I just listened to her and let her tell us how she was coping and what she was doing, and how things were going. That is all anyone can do. We talked about our experiences and she related that she had just moved to our town and it was her first Sunday at her church the day Lauren died. She told us how many people in that church were openly praying for us. She didn't know us then, but she prayed for us too. I have prayed for her every day since then.

I only had one piece of advice I could give her: "Don't let anyone tell you how to grieve."

That is the worst thing you can do to a parent who has lost a child. Just listen and let them go through the process. Don't tell them it will be ok, because it really won't. Not really, ever again. It is just a new normal. That is all.

Our true comfort comes from God.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. 


To find out more about The Baddour Center visit www.baddour.org

A pot full of love

Mother’s Day has come and gone again. We did something a little different this year, and traveled to my son’s house. Our little grand daughter Rosemary had a couple of “programs” that we needed to be there for. Her T.O.T. (Teams of Tomorrow) ball demonstration was on Saturday. She was super cute doing her dribbling and bouncing, and was genuinely happy to get her little trophy.  Sunday, she sang at church with her little choir. Both times, she did great!

She was surrounded by family who love her. I couldn’t help but think how proud Lauren would have been to see Rosie up there, looking like her daddy and participating in these little events.

Both of our girls were precious and we are so blessed to have them in our lives. I pray for them every night and thank God for them every day.

We will plug along as best we can and make the best of the days we have with these girls. Here are some weekend memories and a sweet gift from my girls.

A thought for grieving parents as we approach Year 14

Our Lauren will be gone 14 years tomorrow. This time of year is tough for me. She was getting ready to graduate from high school in 2004, and had done all the work for college at Ole Miss. She was so excited to be over there with her brother. But that was not to be. The three of us, her dad, her brother and I suffered that loss together, and still to this day, the pain is always there in our family. We will go to our son's house this weekend and celebrate Mother's Day with our little grand daughters who never had the chance to meet their lovely aunt, but she will be present in my heart and in my thoughts, as she always is. 

The song, "I love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow" has been my theme song these past few days. 

Rest well, my sweet girl, and know that your mama remembers and loves you every minute of every day. 

The things that are seemingly insignificant can be the worst

Last week, my husband and I went to buy a new washer and dryer, since our washer had gone kaput.

We were driving around and we drove by the  the Old Navy where Lauren had gone that last week. It was a weird thing. She had a little job and wanted to go and buy some things for the summer. I offered to go with her and she said that was ok, she just wanted to go alone. That hurt me a little then, because my girl was growing up, but if someone had shot me in the heart with an arrow the other day when I saw that Old Navy, it would not have hurt any less than the pain I felt right at that moment.

It's crazy how something that insignificant can tear your heart into, even after all these years. I feel like I keep repeating this over and over on this blog, but I feel like it is a way for people to understand the pain that losing your child can bring.

It is unlike any pain we might endure - labor pain, losing your parents and/or siblings, having a cut finger, having someone deceive you, losing in love... It seems none of that compares to this, in my mind.

It's a sharp pain, that causes you to double over, like your heart has broken literally. The tears jump to your eyes, and you cannot breathe. The worst part is, you know other people never understand it. They think you should be better by now. Not gonna happen, I guess.

What to do? I hang on to my faith for dear life. I try to keep my head up. I think of my son, daughter-in- law and my grandchildren, and how blessed I am to have them. I think of how I may be hurting my husband when I fall apart. I chastise myself for not being stronger. All of that happens in a matter of seconds.

It is coming on to May, and this year it will be 14 years. 14 years of pain. It is almost too hard to bear sometimes.

I will not give up, though. That pain means she is still in my heart and with me all the time.  I will embrace it, as surely as I would embrace her if she were here. I will love her dad and her brother and his family like she would have. I can do that for her, and for myself.

Mini-pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament

Last week, my husband Richard and I went to a place I have wanted to go to for years. The Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament in Hanceville, Alabama is a beautiful place that was built by Mother Angelica (founder of EWTN) and is located next to the Monastery of the Poor Clare Nuns of Perpetual Adoration. If you can, look up the website or Facebook page. Richard and I had a wonderful and peaceful time at this lovely place. 
There is a wonderful gift shop, and a lovely chapel called the "Creche" that tells the story of the Nativity. 

You forget you are in Alabama, or even in the U.S. It really made Richard and me want to go back to Rome. 

Year B is riding the struggle bus

I am on the struggle bus this week. Last weekend I ran to Birmingham for an overnight trip to check on our condo, which is now getting ready to be put on the market. Our tenants, who were international students from Saudi Arabia, moved back to their country. We decided to sell instead of rent again. They have been renting for four years, and we feel like we are ready to get rid of the condo now.

I ran over on Friday to check out the condo (code for "to see the grand babies") and came back the next day. I started trying to put my house back in order from the holidays on Saturday evening, and got up Sunday to play at our 8 am mass, go to the grocery and then came home to take down Christmas decorations and put them away, which took me until the evening. I have to say, I am sore all over and worn out.

Last Sunday we celebrated Epiphany, even though it was technically the day before (thanks, Bishops). I get to mass to set up my music, and someone is trying to figure out the readings and set up the book.  Father is not yet there to clear up the confusion.

They are complaining that they can't find them. I say, "It's Epiphany." (And, I don't play for the mass every Sunday of my life, so I wouldn't know).

She says, "I think it is the 2nd Sunday after Christmas." I said, "Yes, but we are celebrating Epiphany today. The Bishops have decided to celebrate it today instead of yesterday. It's Year B, so look up Epiphany and you will find the readings listed in the missal today."

She finally finds them and some guy who gets to church early every week, and who was obviously eavesdropping, says, "Epiphany is January 6. Today is January 7."  SIGH...

Year B is going to wear me out. I just know it. We already had the debacle of Christmas Eve being the 4th Sunday of Advent, and whether or not Jan. 1 was a holy day of obligation this year. Now I find out Ash Wednesday is on Valentine's Day and Easter is on April Fool's. Go away, Year B.

I couldn't find any purple flowers

Usually I try to put flowers for the liturgical season on Lauren's grave. I had some fall flowers with leaves and acorns that I put there in the beginning of October and thought, "I'll get some purple flowers for Advent."

Now Advent is pretty short this year for some reason. I thought I had plenty of time, but with folks coming for Thanksgiving, work, church, gym and football season, I let it get away from me.

I live in a small town with limited access to artificial flowers. I thought I was being smart by getting her Christmas flowers when they first came out. No purple flowers in either store I looked in at the beginning of Advent, though.

For some reason, this is bothering me. I know it is not important in the scheme of things, but I feel like I have let her down.

I'll make sure I get her flowers for Lent.

Goodbye, Winter (finally)

I was so glad to say goodbye to winter this year. It seemed like it would never end... We never have more than one or two "weather" days where we have to close school. This year we had seven.

Our job in the Office of Communications is to make sure the information gets out to all faculty, staff and students  in a timely manner (really early in the morning!) and folks don't get out in the weather if they don't have to. I am the social media and news media back up. I was very fortunate that my two co-workers (the ones I am the back up for) were both always available.

When you have to make a decision to close a school, you really come under fire from some people. There are always those people who want to criticize the folks who make that decision, whether they think you did it too early, or too late or... whatever they can think of to criticize you for.  No matter how careful you are in your wording of the information, somebody always misunderstands. 

My VP and our Police Chief are the folks who lead the charge in that decision-making process, along with our president. These two men take their jobs seriously. They ride the roads to see if they are passable. They worry endlessly about the safety of their employees and their students. They make the best decisions they can.

We made it through that awful stretch and onto our Spring Break. For me it was a great time. I went to Birmingham to take care of my Rosie. She and I had a wonderful week together, playing and laughing. That bonding time was so precious to me. She lifts my spirits like no one else can! 

After a few days, we left on a trip to California for our niece's wedding. We had a great time seeing family and friends and reconnecting with folks we had not seen in a while. My husband and his brother Jim had been in a band when I first met them about 40 years ago. One of the guys who was in their band back then came out and the son of another came and the four of them played a few songs at the reception. It was magical. 

The wedding was a very special time for our family. My niece and nephew were supposed to be married last October and the wedding had to be postponed, as my new nephew got very sick. We were so thankful as a family, that the kids were able to make it through a tough time and are now on their honeymoon. 

We are very blessed as a family. To see my niece in her wedding dress so happy was such a blessing to me. 

Now the weather is getting warmer, and the trees and shrubs are blooming. So, goodbye winter. We know it's hard for you to go, but we will not miss you any more. 

Our newlyweds

Our son came to the wedding with us. 

Our house just a month ago

A little bit of springtime in my life.