I miss her.

The pain I feel tonight is so great I can hardly breathe. My eyes are nearly swollen shut from the amount of tears I have cried in just a few minutes. When the flashbacks come, they come hard. I cannot stop them, although I wish I could find a way.

I cannot help but wonder the fear that my mom experienced during her entire illness, but mostly during the last few hours. What did she feel when the doctor told her there was nothing more they could do? Did she ever feel alone that night, or was I there enough to comfort her to some extent? As she gazed up at me, gasping for breath during the last minutes of her life, what was she thinking? Was she thinking, or was she already gone? Was she trying to tell me something with the look in her eyes?

I long, desperately, for one last encounter with her. I ache for closure from her about those last days and hours. Was I enough? What were her fears? What would she tell me, if we both had known those would be her last words?

The guilt I feel is sometimes tremendous. Why didn't I call my dad sooner to get to the hospital? Why didn't I recognize the symptoms of her illness when she first started experiencing them? Would that have made any difference?

Why has all this happened? This is not fair. Do I really have to live the rest of my life without my mother? And my dad without his wife? Why us? Why was she the one chosen to become sick and die? What is so great about God's plan that this needed to happen? What in the hell is He trying to teach me? To be stronger? To be prepared for the next huge loss He will present me with? I certainly hope not. Was I such a terrible person that I needed this to slap me awake to what is really important? I could go on...

I try to laugh about some things. As a nurse, I learned that if you don't laugh about things, it will eventually get to you. I try to laugh at the "your mom" jokes... but in all honestly, they cut like a knife. I try to keep silent about our story... I don't want to bore you with the details of my mom's life and death, but I am aching to talk about it. I want you to care. I want you to ask me what it was like, and mean it.

I cannot rehash this anymore. I am worn out.

Lord, from the flashbacks specifically, deliver me.

Happy Mother's Day?

I choose my attitude. I realize that. I believe we all choose what emotions we allow ourselves to feel at any given moment. A couple months ago, I realized that not only did I have to get through the 4th of July holiday this year (the day after mom's death), but, well blah, Mother's Day would come sooner. I didn't know what emotions I would feel today, but I wasn't really looking forward to it. I can say all I want that I want to "honor all my mother figures", and "not take any of my mothers for granted", but you know what? I miss my mom. No matter how wonderful all these other women may be, they're not my mom. And today, I miss her so deeply.

I woke up this morning and reset my alarm. I knew going to church and hearing all the Mother's Day hooplah (excuse my term) would not be easy, so I stayed in bed. During that extra two hours of sleep, I dreamt of my mother, something I've only done now three times since her death. I treasure those dreams with her, so I was pleased that I had stayed under the covers and out of the rain. Once I got out of bed, I was in shock mode. "Today is Mother's Day! I have to stop and get my mom a ca...... oh yeah, almost forgot there for a second." I have one of those moments at least once per day. I'll think, "That class was awesome! I need to call my mom and tell her..." And then I remember, and the sting hurts. Today, this morning, the sting was worse. I was left after my initial thought of having to still get my mom a Mother's Day card wondering if all those other 25 cards that I gave her were the perfect cards. Did they say the right things? Did I pick them out with intention? Did I treat her on Mother's Day and everyday like the amazing woman that she was? No. Not every day. I can't put myself through the guilt of knowing that at times I hurt her... at times, I did not acknowlegde her wisdom. I wish I had, but I'm human. I'm forgiving myself of all those times.

We went on to Jeremy's parents home to spend lunch with them and his grandparents. I love Jeremy so so very much, and, Lord help him, he has no idea what I'm going through. He's never lost anyone close to him, and I've lost everyone in my family except my dad. I don't expect Jeremy, or anyone else who still has his or her parents, to understand how days like this feel. Heck, I didn't even know how it would feel. Something about today, though, didn't feel as special as I thought it should have felt. Seeing Jeremy interact with his mother, although a perfectly fine and normal way to act, didn't seem like enough to me. I just kept thinking of what I would say to my mom if she were standing in front of me at that moment... how long I would hold her in a hug... what would I say? I still don't even know. You never know when any holiday is going to be your last with someone. But, think about this for a second... What would you say if you knew it was the last?

What would you say? Please think about that question, and then, say it.

Lord, from my hesitancy of saying exactly how much people mean, deliver me.

Sometimes God gives second chances...

I was driving home from my dad's late yesterday afternoon, and got caught up in traffic at the split that goes around Nashville. I finally made my way to the Shelby Ave exit, and as we were all creeping along, suddenly, just three cars in front of me, a car whipped around, hit the guardrail, hit a truck, flipped, and then skidded into the grassy area between the interstate and the exit ramp we were on. When the car came to a stop, a big black dog jumped out of the passenger window, and took off. Traffic simply went around what had just happened, and the first thing that crossed my mind was that this guy might be drunk and I didn't want to be involved. Plus, by the time the car had come to a stop, I was at the top of the exit ramp, and had no where to park and go help the man. I looked into the rear-view mirror and saw others stopping to help him, and suddenly I felt terrible. I'm a nurse. I should have stopped. I stop at little wrecks all the time, but I just didn't stop this time. The feelings of guilt were getting the best of me.... fast. As I turned right onto Shelby Ave, still creeping along with the traffic, I looked over to my right at the sidewalk, and there was the dog that had jumped out of the car. He was terrified and running away from the scene. I rolled down my window and whistled at him, thinking if he was friendly I could get him into my car and take him back to the scene and let the officers handle him. He wouldn't come near me. I pulled over into the right turn lane, and so did a lady in front of me. Together, with the help of another man who had stopped, we got the Rottweiler into the backseat of my car, and headed back to the scene. We parked, left the dog in the car and carefully crossed the exit ramp to get to where all the officers, EMTs and paramedics were. We told them what had happened with the dog, and that we had him. One of the officer's wives works at animal control, so he came and picked the dog up. I spoke with animal control last night and if the man does not recover (he had a seizure which caused the accident), the dog will be available for adoption in two weeks, otherwise, he will be put down. Harry the Rottweiler was the sweetest dog, and I have every intention of going to resuce him should his owner not come to claim him.

I believe the moral to this story, and the reason I wanted to share it, is because God wants us to do good and be an example of His love at every chance He gives us. Sometimes, however, we might be having a bad day, be in a negative mood, or, like me, simply miss our chance. But, God gave me a second chance to help someone and show the love of Christ. He brought that dog up that ramp and right beside my car so that I could help rescue the dog. If we are presented with a chance to show God's love, we should take it, even, and especially, if it's the second chance.