Hold Me Tight

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This entry was written the morning after my mom died.  This was the day after I had arrived in Paducah, and just a few hours before I was to be at the funeral home for the visitation.  I really didn’t feel like publishing it on the day I wrote it.  I can’t really explain why, I just didn’t want to.  Today, almost 8 weeks later, it’s still fresh and just as hard…but God is still good.  Today, I would have called mom and we would have gushed over the fact that LOST begins a new season tonight, and we would have made predictions about what would happen.  Afterwards we would have talked again and made predictions for next week.  I guess they won’t be showing LOST in heaven, so tonight, I’m on my own.  I can’t believe how much I miss her.

I just read my mom’s obituary.  I know my aunt wrote it because she still spells my name wrong.  She always adds an “e” at the end.  When I saw it, I smiled.

I wanted to write each day that I am here for several reasons.  One being the process of figuring this all out (whatever that means), and another, for the therapy of writing.  I have always read about or heard about people who write a book when they are healing from something traumatic.  I understand why.

Last night when I got here, I wanted to write, but I was so emotionally and mentally exhausted, there was no way that I could muster any co-herant thoughts that made any sense.  So, I opted for today.  I also wanted to make several blog entries for you, the reader, so that you wouldn’t be burdened with a long blog.

This morning, my dad and I had errands to run.  Hanging out with him and doing random things is usually one of the highlights of my visits.  Unfortunately, I can’t say that this morning was a good time.  Our first stop was the funeral home so that he could drop an un-godly amount of money.  Next, the florist.  Finally, we went to the graveyard; I actually saw the guys digging her grave as I looked over the property.  Surreal.

While at the funeral home, the lady told us that my mom was “ready”, would we like to see her before the viewing this afternoon.  My dad said that he wasn’t ready yet.  He needed my aunts to be there.  I actually jumped at the chance to have some time alone with mom (I’m a true quality timer).  So, as the lady took my hand and led me into Chapel B, she turned and said to me, “You look just like your mother”.  I replied that everyone says that, and that I hoped that people seeing me didn’t intensify the sadness.  By now, we were at the casket.  I asked the lady to give me a second.

This is what I wish would have happened:  I wish I would have looked at her and it would be like looking at a stranger.  I wish it didn’t look a thing like her so I could just pretend that this wasn’t really happening.  That didn’t happen.  She was beautiful…stunning actually.  You know why?  Because she is only 58 years old.  No wrinkles, no age spots on her face.  None of that…just a beautiful lady.  Inside and out.  So, there she lay, and there lay my confirmation.  My mom is gone.  And finally free and alive with Jesus Christ, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

I talked to her for a few minutes.  I felt the presence of God in that room and He assured me that He would take good care of her until I got there…I’m sure she is busy catching up with my grandmothers and telling Jesus that it was hard releasing her only daughter into his care when He called me into missionary service.  And by now, everyone loves her….because everyone sure did while she was here.

This is gonna sound weird, but as I said earlier, I am so happy for her.  She made it through this life and she made her peace with God.  For literally years, I have been praying for true healing for her body.  She has had health problems all her life…and God has finally answered those prayers…not as I would have liked, but He is giving me grace to accept it.  She is with Him, and she is finally feeling no pain and no stress.  No anxiety and no worry.  Yes, I’m extremely happy for her.

Well, I need to end for now.  Tonight, I hope to be the strong woman that my mom raised me to be.  I hope to fall into the arms of Jesus and allow those closest to me to hold me tight when it gets to be too much. And I hope to keep this heart of rejoicing as I think about how happy mom is….but I sure do miss her.

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