It wasn’t so bad

Well, I made it through another Mother’s Day! It is unusually hard when Mother’s Day falls on May 9, like it did the day Lauren died. We went to mass on Saturday evening (May 8) and for some odd reason, that day was harder for me than Sunday turned out to be. We slept in on Sunday and made our way to Aaron’s house for lunch. I think being able to see my sweet son is balm for my soul. It is a tough day for the three of us, but when you combine it with Mother’s Day, it really makes it hard. 

Aaron is a great host. He made lunch for the ladies (me, mother-in-law, wife, sister-in-law and daughters) and his dad. We ate outside on the patio, and the weather was perfect. The girls were happy to give us their little hand-made cards, which are precious to their other Grandma and to me, their Mimi. 

After lunch, Aaron made strawberry shortcake and coffee. We opened gifts and they were some of the most precious things I have ever received! I got a Grandmother’s journal to fill out about me so that I can share it back with my girls when I am done. By the time I am finished, hopefully the girls will want to read it. My son gave be a beautiful card and a necklace with his and his sister’s first initials. I loved it. My husband gave me a bracelet that had a story. It talks about how going through a storm and coming out of the rain to some sunshine. That is a perfect thought of what the girls mean to us. They are sunshine after the storm of losing Lauren. We will always have memories and struggle with that storm and the damage it did to us, but we have the sunshine now to brighten our days. 

My daughter-in-law and her mother are two ladies that I am so happy to have in my life. Her mother is a wonderful, Godly woman who has raised two beautiful and talented daughters. I’m thankful that Aaron married into a strong, loving family. His in-laws are just great. We could not have asked for a better family for him to marry into. 

So here are a couple of pictures from a lovely day. 

It’s been awhile...

 Ok, it’s been awhile I know. I am still trying to adjust to retired life I think. Retiring and then moving into a new house and community six months later took a toll on my husband and me I think. Especially when we moved everything ourselves. We had a little help from our son and a couple of friends, but the majority of it was completed by two 60-somethings. Not an easy task, by a long shot. 

I keep doing this don’t I? I write a blog post, stay away a long time, come back and make an excuse as to why I stayed away so long. Even I can see the pattern! All I can say is, I’m working on it. No promises, though. 

Tomorrow is 17 years since our Lauren went home to be with the Lord. I am (once again) on the struggle bus as it were. I guess I am a permanent passenger by this time. Tomorrow we will go to mass and then to our son’s for Mother’s Day. To see him and our girls is all a want for Mother’s Day. I have to hold my head up and enjoy what I have in this world and that is my husband, son, daughter-in-law and grand daughters. And that is more than a lot of folks have, so I will most definitely be thankful. 

Last time I was with Rosemary, my six-year old, she just asked point blank what happened to Lauren. I told her as gently as I could, while reassuring her that dying at 18 was not the rule, but the exception to the rule. I think she was ok with that answer. I don’t want her to worry about that. She did ask me if I would still be her Mimi when I went to heaven. I said, “Of course. I will always be your Mimi and love you with all my heart.” She liked that, I think. She tells me, “I love you, Mimi” uncoerced these days. 

Vivian has a way of comforting you by giving you the best hug any four-year old can offer. She just hangs onto you and lays her sweet head on your shoulder. She doesn’t say a word, just hangs on quietly for a while. She is the best balm for a broken heart. 

We are so grateful to be able to see them more often, and not be so far away from them. We try to help with them as much as we can. Spending time with them means more to us than just about anything else. I know Lauren would be madly in love with them. 

So tomorrow I will concentrate on my family, remembering my Lauren in my heart as I do every day of my life. I’ll pray that when my days finally come to an end, she will be waiting for me. 

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. 

It’s hard to say

I know I need to blog something, but I can’t think of anything to say. I am at a loss for words. Some days I can write and write, and other days I just can’t think of a thing to say.

We went to the wedding recently of Chloe, a young woman who had lost a brother and a sister. I did not know Jessica, her older sister, but she died in 2008, the year before I met TJ, her older brother. He was one of the students in our program where I work. TJ was a wonderful young man, and was destined to be a brilliant writer and journalist. He served as our college newspaper editor and was a great student and became a good friend. 

TJ never was able to get over his sister’s death I don’t believe. His loving parents tried their best to take care of him, but TJ ultimately died of an overdose. I had seen him a month before. He asked me for a letter to help with a job and he came into our office. I talked to him for at least and hour. He seemed happy and ready to move forward with his life. In a few weeks, he was gone. It was the last time I ever spoke to him. My heart was broken for Cholie and for her parents. 

We have become closer over the years and have comforted each other as best we can. His parents love their new son-in-law (a wonderful young man) and I am praying that they will be blessed with grandchildren like I have been. We were so glad to be a a part of the wedding celebrations, and to see some joy brought to this wonderful family. 

This photo of TJ at the wedding caught my eye and my heart. Rest well, sweet boy. 

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. 

His loss, our loss

I did not know him very well, but Jason was one of those people who was bigger than life. His stature alone could have seemed imposing, yet he had an innocent quality about him that would make you stop and take notice.

I first encountered Jason when he taught English at a local high school and was named 'Teacher of the Month." I took his photo along with the students of the month for the local Rotary club.

Here was this tall guy with dark curly hair topped off by a black kippah (or yarmulke, if you like) – not a sight you usually see in a small Southern town.  I thought, "What an interesting young man! How in the world did an Orthodox Jew end up here?" (It's just the journalistic curiosity in me, I suppose.)

Of course, living in the "politically correct, everything can be offensive, so watch what you say" climate we currently abide in, I would never had asked him about his journey to Judaism.  Thinking back, I'll bet Jason would have shared it with me in the blink of an eye, though.

Jason came to our college to head up our Writing Center a couple of years later, and I can count on my hands the times I actually got to talk with him. When I did come into contact with him, I was impressed with his enthusiasm for the job he had taken on.  I sensed that he wanted to help students with navigating the world through the written word, and although I have only read one thing Jason actually wrote, I can guess he would have been good at it.

I took his photo at several events, and actually sat down at a table with a few other folks and had a nice discussion with him one day. The last photo I took of Jason was at a retirement reception for our Foundation director. Jason and a fellow instructor (who happens to be the minister of a local church) and I were making a joke about a Jew, a Catholic and a Baptist walking into a bar. Not so politically correct, but funny to us. Jason had a beautiful smile on his face that day.

He called me at 3 pm that last Friday to inquire about taking a photo at an event he was involved in for the Writing Center at a local church the next day.  None of our staff was available to  go that Saturday, so I did what I could to encourage him to just get someone to snap a photo with his phone. He seemed ok with that, and I told him I would see him Monday- he and I had an appointment for me to interview him about another project he was working on. I was really looking forward to talking with him one on one, and hopefully getting to know him a little better. I could see bright things for Jason, and I wanted to help him along the way if I could.

Jason passed away that evening at his home.  I have not been this devastated over something in a long time. I wish I could have had that time with him on Monday afternoon. I wish I could have gotten to know this interesting young man better. Fellow writers would have had a lot to talk about.

Rest in peace, Jason. You made a big impact on a lot of people.

Just been out of sorts a bit lately

Getting old is the pits. There I have gone and said it. And not only getting old, but struggling with my new found friend Hashimoto's has made me feel out of sorts for the last few months. I have had hypothyrodism for several years, and have now been diagnosed with Hash'is. I also have another "friend" who causes me a bit of aggravation, and that is my elevated left  hemi-diaphragm.

This whole mess started when I went to a "wellness" visit last December. They saw something on my chest X-Ray that caused them to pull me aside and put me in a room where being frightened out of my wits, I thought I must be dying. I have been to a pulmonologist (lungs are fine) who sent me to a bariatric surgeon, because she was convinced I had a hiatal hernia and my intestines were stuck up in my diaphragm. The bariatric surgeon sent me for some (awful) tests which determined I had no hiatal hernia, but I do have moderate acid reflux (which I knew and was being treated for already). Now the bariatric surgeon has sent me to a thoracic surgeon, who I will see at the beginning of August. He'll talk to me about my elevated diaphragm and what can or cannot be done about it. The diaphragm causes me to be short of breath a lot of the time, and I am even prepared to tell him when I think it happened. In the midst of all of this my endocrinologist is monitoring my thyroid, which has some small nodules on it apparently. And to think, I knew none of this until I went to a wellness visit. SIGH.

I have been trying to keep my head up and ask God for grace, wisdom and understanding (not patience) throughout this whole ordeal. I could be a lot worse off, and I know that. The Hashi's makes me hyper-sensitive at times, where I get my feelings hurt easily or get angry about stupid things very  quickly. One Facebook group I am in has helped me tremendously - I hear other people relate the same things. I am trying to maintain my diet and exercise regimen. I don't get too caught up in all of the different diets and do and don’ts because it stresses me out too much. Since I was diagnosed with Hashi's I have cut back on gluten and carbs, and have lost about 12 lbs. 

Being hypersensitive is not good for grieving mothers. I have cried more in the last 6 months than I have in forever. Most days, I feel like I cannot express myself without making someone mad, or hurting someone's feelings or just feeling like it is the end of the world. I am not depressed, I just feel overly sensitive most of the time. For me, this is really hard, because I have always been sensitive, especially if I thought I hurt someone. I worry about that more than just about anything. I have always hated conflict, and I think I always will. 

I recognize my own ability to overcome that feeling by focusing on the positive, praying and getting up and out of my routine. Walking and praying seems to be a good cure. I think I have prayed the Our Father, Hail Mary and the Fatima Prayer more in the last six months than I ever have. 

I am hoping to get the diaphragm issue resolved one way or the other in August. I'll either get it fixed (if it is not too invasive) or live with it. The Hashi's is here to stay. You just have to manage it. 

"Do not be saddened this day, for rejoicing in the LORD is your strength!”

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 hope that we cling to

When First Lady Barbara Pierce Bush passed away, many of those who remembered this gracious lady were saddened for her husband and the rest of their big family. Mrs. Bush was a personal hero of mine. I admired her wittiness, her devotion to her family and her fierce support of her husband. She truly embodied what I always thought a wife and mother should be.

“Never lose sight of the fact that the most important yardstick of your success will be how you treat other people - your family, friends, and coworkers, and even strangers you meet along the way,” she once said. I fall short of this every day, but I try. I equate this with the kind of love we as Christians are supposed to exhibit. 

While Mrs. Bush could wax philosophical, she could also get straight to the point: “People who worry about their hair all the time, frankly, are boring.” A lady after my own heart. 

She and I had something in common that made me look up to her and I will venture to say to love her. She knew what it was to lose a child. She faced the same struggles that I and other grieving parents have faced. She never forgot her Robin- all of the fame, fortune and political success could not change the love she had for her little girl and the grief that she lived with from that loss. 

A wonderful cartoonist here in Mississippi, Marshall Ramsey, has captured the hope that we as grieving parents feel - the hope that we will be reunited with our beloved children. I have had the honor to meet Marshall and to hear him speak at a couple of events I have been at. He has a penchant for getting to the heart of the matter. His cartoons capture things right where they are. 

This particular cartoon has gone viral, and even members of Mrs. Bush’s family have seen it and commented on it, thanks to social media. So kudos to you, Marshall! And thank you. 

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.

Mothering my way

Late last year I wrote about the "purple flowers" incident, when I did not get flowers for Lauren for Advent. This time I made sure I got them for Lent. My dilemma was what to do for January. The weather had been so bad that I left her Christmas flowers on her grave way past Epiphany, and then a third of the month was gone. 

I went to the store to get her flowers and decided that I would get pink roses and Valentine's stuff since Lent begins on Valentine's Day this year (thanks, Year B).  I will keep the Valentine's stuff on there and then switch to my purple Lent flowers for March. (I better get to the store for Easter Lilies pretty soon, I guess.) 

It seems a trifle to other people I am sure, when I worry about what is on her grave. But for me it is really important. One of her friends once told me that this was my way of "mothering" her. I guess that is right. The thought of her grave having no flowers on it to show our love and how much we miss her is really distressing to me. So as long as I am physically and mentally able, I will go there and "mother" her in this way. 

I will also try to "mother" (honor) her by being a good wife to her father, a good mother to her brother, a good mother-in-law to her sister-in-law and a good grandmother to her nieces. I'll try to be there when her scholarship recipients are honored, so that she can be remembered. 

New pink flowers for Valentine's Day took the place of the old Christmas ones. As my daughter-in-law said, "Days are long, but years are fast." One day when I can no longer bring her flowers, I hope I will be with her instead. 

Prayer request: Three teenagers were killed over the weekend in my home county in South Carolina. I would ask for prayers for their families and friends, and most especially their parents. 

Prayers for Charner, Krislyn and Hunter. 

Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord

and let perpetual light shine upon them.

May they rest in peace. Amen.

May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed,

through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Amen.

It must be nice to always be right

I guess I am having my own "pity party" today or something.

For the last couple of days, I've been called out and corrected by people who are 25, 30 and 40 years younger than me.

Seems here lately everything I say or do is wrong. I am the oldest person in my office, yet I have nothing to offer or contribute to this place these days. It is quite disconcerting sometimes to realize I had lived a whole life before some of these people were even born. It doesn't seem to matter though.

I try to contribute in meetings or other discussions, only to get shot down or interrupted like what I have to say is not important. Maybe it's NOT important any more.

If you are older, you are disposable in this society.  I am passe', I guess.

These are the kind of days I wish my daughter was still here. I think at 32, she would be a mature young woman who could maybe help me navigate this new place I find myself in. I miss having a mother and a daughter, really.

I think I will follow that old adage I once learned: "My tongue within my lips I rein, for who talks much must talk in vain."

End of rant.

Go where you wanna go

We're doing the usual Christmas stuff. It just hit me that we are going to the places we went with Lauren again and again. I got a knot in my stomach just thinking about it right now. How do you escape from this? Move away and never come back? That doesn't sound practical! And what would happen to all our memories? It's the pain that keeps coming back, but it keeps her with me. It hurts me to go to places she went to and it hurts me to go places she's never been. So... I think I'll leave well enough alone and live with these twinges of pain when they come. It's better than never having any memories and never feeling her presence with me. I do feel her when I think of those memories and that is perfectly ok.

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.

A piercing of the heart

I don't understand how, but even after almost 14 years without Lauren, my heart is still an open wound. I talked about how having those granddaughters puts my heart back together, and it absolutely does. Have you ever broken a vase, and glued the parts back together? It is still not exactly right even if you can find all of the pieces and glue them back together carefully. It is still flawed.

I forget sometimes that it is actually still a flawed heart. I had to go to the bank a couple of weeks ago to get a document we needed for insurance. It was in our safe deposit box, so I went in on my lunch hour to grab it and go.

Looking through the box, I ran across Lauren's death certificate, right there among the other documents like our marriage certificate, the kids' birth certificates, etc. There it was. I resisted the temptation to read it front and back because I knew I would be ruined for the day, but just seeing the words "certificate of death" was enough to do the job. At that moment, I felt like someone had basically shot an arrow that went straight into my heart. I was angry with myself for feeling that way, but I just could not help it. It nearly made me double over in pain right there in the bank. Thank goodness you are left alone in that room to check your box. I think I probably looked like I was dying at that moment.

I stood there fighting back tears, feeling like my heart was literally broken again. I composed myself as best I could and after getting the document we needed, I went out into the bank lobby again, smiling and thanking the lady who had helped me. Once in the car, I cried for a few minutes and then went back to work, surprised at myself and how fragile I really am. I thought I was strong, but I guess I was fooling myself.

How after all these years, can this wound be that fresh? I just don't understand. That pain was as real as the day we lost her. It took me aback, and it has taken me a while to recover. I learned that I have to just realize that it is not going away. Ever. It is a part of me that is here to stay, until that day that I am no longer here to stay.

I have done a lot of thinking about it since then. I have been trying to lull myself into thinking that I could learn to live with my loss, but the truth is, I can't. I just have to take it day by day and deal with that heart piercing wound when it bursts open unexpectedly as it did that day.

November is a hard month, as it is Lauren's birthday and then you have Christmas coming soon. I will just have to soothe that wound with the salve that is given to me-my faith, my family and my friends.

 Blessed are they who mourn,  for they will be comforted. Comfort me, Lord.

You won't believe this!

It has been a long time since I have worked on my blog. There are a few reasons for that, but the primary one was that I did not have an available computer at home. My old Mac from 2007 finally bit the dust. You can turn it on, but typing is another story!

I had an iPad, but no keyboard attached to it. Finally, last week, my iPad got dropped and it would not work anymore. RT (my husband) bought me a brand new iPad and got me a keyboard to go with it! So I am really back this time. We have a nice computer upstairs, but I don't want to get up there and leave RT downstairs alone watching tv. We really do enjoy our time together after work every evening, watching our movies and hanging out together. Now that I have this new little toy of mine, I can truly say I am back.

About a week ago, a priest friend of mine suggested a book for me to read, and I am really excited! We just finished watching A.D. The Bible Continues (which incidentally was syncing up with our daily readings this year) and I discovered that I really wanted to read about the early church fathers. I love the book of Acts, and am fascinated with the travels of the Apostles and other early Christians and how the gospel was spread. I find the story of Peter, the prince of the Church fascinating. I find the story of Paul, who some say is the greatest apostle, fascinating. I have figured out that my faith is still being formed, even at my age.

The book that was recommended to me is "From Age to Age: How Christians Have Celebrated the Eucharist" by Edward Foley, a Capuchin. My friend felt that reading this book, which is about the "source and summit" of our faith, would be a good way for me to begin my journey.

We are coming up on the 12th anniversary or our daughter's death. It is a hard time of the year for us, and it really doesn't get easier. Recently, I have said that our sweet granddaughter Rosemary has put little pieces of our hearts back into place again. Just being with her brings us such joy! Now we have another little sweetheart on the way! In late July, we are expecting another sweet little girl, whose name will be Vivian.

Pray for us as we face this tough week leading up to the anniversary. Believe this!

Please don't stop the pain

The other day during one of our three commencement exercises at the college where I work, I found myself overwhelmed by a memory of Lauren that cut me to the bone. As the communications staff, we are required to sit on the coliseum floor near the stage in order to be able to photograph students receiving their diplomas and coming off the stage. We do it every year, but this year was particularly hard for me.

It reminded me of the night, nine days after Lauren's death, that my husband, son and I sat in the same place during Lauren's graduation ceremony. A bouquet of flowers sat in her chair.

Lately, I have been thinking about how memories of Lauren are everywhere around me. I even said to someone that there was no escaping it.  It was bothering me quite a bit at first, but then I realized something: I want those memories- no matter how painful some of them can be. I don't want those painful memories to stop any more that I would want to lose the good ones.

So I will cherish the memories- good ones and painful ones, if it means she will always stay near to me.

Anticipation and sadness...

This past three weeks of summer have basically been horrible.  First, we lost Ellen, the mother of Dawn, one of my best friends. She had been very sick and in the end was in hospice care at home. My poor friend and her brother and other family put their lives on hold, but were blessed to be there when she passed away.

We went to her visitation on a Sunday, but on the Thursday evening before, my other best friend Michelle's  21-year-old son Christian and two his friends were hit by a drunk driver traveling on the wrong side of the interstate. The driver and the passenger (Christian) both suffered broken bones, but praise God they are on the mend. After some complications, he has recovered enough to eat solid foods again. Both he and one of the other girls, Maria, who was in the back seat, are members of our parish. The young lady in the back seat has been in an induced coma in ICU, and was finally moved to a step down.

Three days ago, my sweet friend Janet lost her mother. Her mom had broken her hip, but was doing better. She died peacefully in her apartment. Tonight, a week after Dawn's mom's visitation, we went back for Janet's mom.

Last week, one of my former students, a young man of 25, passed away. TJ was the kind of kid that lit up the room when he came through the door. He was like my Lauren in that respect. TJ loved journalism- like me, he had "newsprint" in his blood. He had worked for his father's cousin at his newspaper, and loved every minute of it. TJ served as the editor of our college newspaper, and the job he did was spectacular. Like me, he had faced the death of a loved one. His older sister Jessica, who was the same age as Lauren, died in a car accident right when TJ was finishing high school. TJ never got over her loss. He and I talked a lot about it, but I knew it tortured him.

He had a rough go of it, and I won't go into details, but he did come and see me about a month ago. We had a wonderful visit and he seemed very positive again. He asked me for a recommendation for a job he was seeking, and I was happy to help him.  We parted after a long talk and I never saw him again after that. When I learned of his death, I was heartbroken. For him, for his parents, for his little sister Chloe, and for myself. I have lost someone I truly loved, once again. I spent an hour with his parents and sister, the other day. We talked about TJ, and his mother told me that he loved me too. It gave me peace of mind, but my heart is still broken for these people who have lost two children they loved. I understand their pain, but could not imagine having to go through losing another child. I pray for them and ask God to comfort them and bring them peace.

The one bright spot in this summer is that we are weeks away from the birth of our granddaughter. We have learned since I wrote before that her name will be Rosemary Lauren. She will be called Rosie. I cannot wait to hold her in my arms. I know she will be precious, as all children are, and I will be proud to be her Mimi.

As I contemplate sweet Rosie, I miss my Lauren really badly. I know she would be so happy over this baby who bears her name. I believe in my heart, that Lauren knows all about her and loves her already.

Dear Lord, we ask you for a safe delivery for Rosemary, and for her parents. I pray for Dawn and Janet, and TJ's family in their grief. I pray for Michelle, as she faces this long journey of Christian's recovery and for Christian as he embarks on that journey back to health. I pray for Maria, for her healing and for her return to her family, and most especially to her young daughter. 
Lord, hear our prayers. Amen. 

Manic May

May was a crazy month this year. We observed the 10th anniversary of Lauren's death. There were reminders of our grief, fun times with family and friends, graduations, weddings, a conference and a trip to the beach. During all of the craziness, there was one evening that really touched me.

A young man in our parish is working on his Eagle Scout project, and he decided to refurbish our grotto. He enlisted the help of church members, his family and others to help in the project. He raised money for the project and the results were spectacular. 

Fr. Greg Schill, SCJ rededicated the grotto one lovely evening last month. For Catholics, the month of May is special. It is the month in which we honor the Blessed Mother. At the beginning of the month, the children crown our beautiful statue of Mary and we sing a song for her at each mass. 

I had the pleasure of photographing the rededication. One of the photos I took really touched me once I saw it. As we were getting ready for people to arrive, I was photographing the grotto and took this photo of Fr. Greg as he prepared himself for the service.

It seems as though the Blessed Mother is watching over him. I feel like she watches over us all. She knows my grief first hand, and I find great comfort in her example of humility and her willingness to be a servant. 

You can view the other photographs on our Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/StGregorySenatobia. It is in our photo albums.