May 14, 2013
Good morning, son. I'm sitting here at the kitchen table and can see the sun beginning to rise. There are big puffy (cumulus?) clouds in the sky. The sky is a pale blue with streaks of pink. The clouds themselves appear to be a very light pink/purple. The birds are singing (loudly!) in the trees outside. It's a morning you would love! I remember so many mornings you would take so long bringing Sparky in that I'd wonder what the heck was going on. I'd look out the window and see you watching the sun rise, or listening to the birds. Thanks for the reminder this morning to slow down and enjoy this incredible world in which we live.
It's been a tough week here, but you already know that. I keep thinking that this sadness, this aching, this heartbreak should ease a little bit. Instead, it keeps going and sometimes is even greater. The only thing I can imagine is that with the upcoming anniversary of your diagnosis, I'm reliving everything all over again. You've heard my prayers, you've held my hand as I've poured out my heart to our Father in Heaven. I pray for peace. I pray for comfort. I pray for strength, and for courage. I've prayed to have this pain just go away. I've been given peace. I've been given comfort. I've been given strength and courage. And I've been told that the pain won't go away, although it becomes more manageable through The Atonement, because of the depth of love we have. My heart just hurts.
Last week I received the most awesome text from Heather Mom. Oh how I love that you are watching out for your friends!! They miss you so much! Another of your friends' moms stopped by with a card. She said that her child felt like you were the one real friend they had. That your friendship was genuine and you really cared. I love that about you!
Last week, Tippets stopped by with a gift from the Semadeni family - the most incredible piece of artwork that will hang prominently in our home alongside our family photos. Their sweet daughter also sent a beautiful gift.
Saturday was the first annual Tee it up with Team Kenton charity golf scramble. For a first time event, there was incredible support! It was an awesome day! Mike and Marti have done so much!
Sister Howell stopped by last night with a letter for us. She wrote her memories of you. I can't read it yet because I'm just not strong enough. I know it will be a priceless treasure. You have touched the lives of so many.
I've been thinking back over the past year...the support we've received has been nothing short of amazing. I think of the fundraisers, the anonymous donations, the gifts, the meals, the gift cards, the acts of service, and I am overwhelmed. I'll never be able to thank everyone, recognize everyone, or repay their kindness. I don't know why so many people have chosen to reach out to our family, but I will forever be grateful, knowing that we wouldn't have been able to spend the time together that we did without their help and generosity.
People keep telling us how strong we are, and that we are an inspiration. I don't get that. We're surviving. Living. Grieving. Trying to smile. When someone asks how I am, I just say fine. I don't know what else to say. Still standing perhaps. Or right now at this minute I'm okay?
I am grateful that so far, at least to my face, no one has said it's "time for me to move on" or "time to get over this." Our lives changed completely the day you left. We're still trying to figure out our family dynamics now. And I'm so incredibly thankful for the friends that still speak your name and share their memories of you.
I wish I had the courage to write everything that is in my heart this morning, but I'm choosing instead, to listen to the prompting I'm receiving that now isn't the time to share that. I know you know my thoughts, my feelings, my struggles, my self doubts, my inadequacies as a mother - how I expect too much, get frustrated too easily, and don't praise enough... I'm sorry I wasn't more patient, more loving, more supportive. That doesn't do so much now that you're gone. Thank you for loving me anyway.
Love you, my boy.