everywhere

Yesterday was my Daddy's birthday. I miss him. He's been gone 71/2 years now. And it's been almost 4 months since my Mommy died. There is no longer the stabbing, searing pain that is with me at all times. It has been replaced with a dull ache. You move on. You live life. Some days are better than others. Some moments sneak up on you and overcome you with grief. And other times you are just filled with joy at the remembering. Especially with my Mommy since the loss is fresher, there are reminders of her everywhere.

I can't tell you the sheer number of things in my home that were gifts from her. Doing the finger play "here's a ball for baby" with lulu. Any time a friend mentions doing something with her mother. And the biggest category, food. We ate out a lot. I can come up with a memory of my mother from almost any restaurant I go to. And I can hear her sweet voice saying, "I do believe this is the best caesar salad i have ever had!" Oh what I wouldn't give to sit across the table from her again eating something involving a lot of cheese, laughing. There was always cheese and there was always laughing.

But God has given me the sweet gift of seeing her in my dreams from time to time. The first one was a couple of months ago. I dreamed I ran into her as she was coming out of a restaurant (of course!) and I was dumbfounded. I exclaimed "You're alive!?!" And she responded in her usual bubbly way, "Oh yes! I've been meaning to tell you!" At that point I was distressed and said, "But we buried you!". And she reassured me saying, "I know, honey. But I am fine. I am alive."

This was more than just a silly dream. It was a beautiful reassurance to me that despite the pain that we have of losing her, she is indeed alive right now. She is fine. And I will be too.

So, though she is gone. She is not. Her memory is everywhere. At the grocery store. At the mall (shopping was a close second to eating out in our activities). At restaurants. In my home. And especially in my heart.

But it's not just my heart that is grieving. I think she and Bill may have had the most lovey-dovey in law relationship ever. Complete adoration on both parts. She was his political conversationalist and his cheerleader...
He told me tonight, "I just miss her."

And then there are my four little ones, without their Gunga and their Granddaddy. It is interesting how each one of them responds differently. They also have reminders of her all around too. Namely this shaggy, no-longer-professionally groomed one...
There are others too. I overheard Jack telling his friend that Honey Crisp apples were his Gunga's favorite kind of apples (again with the food :)). I love that he knows that. His birthday is coming up and he has commented numerous times about the absence of a gift from Gunga. This bothers me since I want him to remember her for who she was, not for what she gave him. But I have to cut him a break since he is only 7. He explained himself though, "It's not just that Gunga gave us expensive gifts. It's that she loved to give us what we really wanted." Not bad for being only 7. He sounds like a child who is having to think a little more deeply about things through grieving this loss.

Tate doesn't say much, which is kind of true to form. But about a month after her death, he was staying at her house with some other family members. When I asked him what that was like for him (he hated being there for the week after she died), he answered that even though he and his cousins had fun playing games it wasn't the same spirit as when Gunga was there. He said, "Even though she couldn't really even play games with us anymore, she still made everything more fun."

I have thanked the Lord so many times that my Mom lived to know Lulu. It breaks my heart to know that Lulu won't remember her, but I overheard one of my kids (I think it was Jack) promising Luci that they would teach her all about Gunga. How dear is that? Lulu still lights up when she sees a picture of Gunga, though yesterday for the first time in many months I had to prompt her to say "GuhGuh!" Oh how it hurts to think of her slipping from Lulu's grasp.

It's my dear Emmie, who is processing Gunga's death the most with me. For the past several months she told me she has been pretending that Gunga is just on a trip, but she will be coming back. I think that approach isn't working so much for her 4 months into it as it is settling in now that she is really gone. She has been asking things like "Why did Gunga have to die?" and commenting on how hard it is that most of her friends still have all their grandparents. She is also sleeping with the Raggedy Ann Gunga gave her and carrying the purse made from Granddaddy's tie. As if there had been any question about the source of her sadness, she left this note next to my bed one night...
And there is nothing I can do to make it better. So I just cry with her. And listen to her. And answer her questions the best that I can as one sad little girl to another.

The impact of this loss, the "everywhere-ness" of it, just reminds me of what an important role the role of MOTHER is. She wasn't young. Her death wasn't tragic. But she was my Mommy. She not only has affected every room in my house, but almost every aspect of who I am. I don't have my Mommy here on earth anymore. But I do get to be a Mommy. Something I can feel like I am flailing in, and even failing in, much of the time. But the thing that made my Mommy such an incredible mother was the sheer force of her love. It was always there and it was overwhelming (in a good way). In such a way that I find it hard to live without.

Except that it's still with me. Her love for me. The love she nurtured between my sisters and me. The love she modeled in her relationship with my Daddy. The love I saw her pour out onto almost everyone she came in contact with. The Love she pointed us to time and time again. And that Love is with me. Everywhere.