You'll have to forgive my diminishing posting frequency. I think my body is becoming less "in shock" and I'm starting to get that this is permanent. It gets harder and harder for me to think about and sometimes I even avoid thinking about it altogether.
I replay that day in my head, only to get upset that I wasn't there to help or angry that I have always been so nice to everyone when obviously there are people whose feelings I should not have been so careful with. I should have made more of an effort to keep them away from my family.
And then I think about the few months before that day. I would go running and my mom would call me and insist that I tell her when I was going so she could drive up to Bountiful to go with me. I would tell her that it was a ridiculous idea to drive half an hour to my house just to go running for an hour and then drive half an hour back home. She didn't care. She just wanted to be with me. She would do anything. I never told her when I went.
She would call me and want me to tell her when my husband's basketball games were so she could go. He plays three times a week, sometimes more. There are so many, I don't even go to all of them. I decided that they were such a casual thing and happened all the time so I should just tell her about the championship games. I never knew which ones were championships, so I never told her.
I've always had this attitude where I have to do everything myself. I hate having help and I didn't think I needed it, ever. I have always had my mother standing ready whenever I needed anything. I never thought I needed that support and now I don't know what to do without it.
Moms are supposed to be the ones to make you feel better when you're upset and that comfort has been taken away from me and my brothers and sisters.
I go about my day feeling like a kid lost in the mall, because the only thought in my head is, "I want my mom."
I'm tired of being sad and tired of being angry.
When I'd go home, she always tried to cuddle up to one of us on the couch and she would get her way no matter how much we squirmed and struggled. She would grab my hands and tell me how small my fingers used to be and that they're short and pudgy like my dad's. Then she would tell me about the day I was born. It was on Thanksgiving and my uncle was burning the turkey and the cat was locked in the garage, which was filling up with smoke from the kitchen. Poor cat. They eventually found her and let her out.
A week before she was taken away, she left a message on my voice mail. "Hi honey, I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Give me a call. Bye."
I erased it because I knew there would just be another one the next week.
My mom was all about clean teeth. She would spend probably 20 minutes brushing and then another 20 minutes flossing. That's not even an exaggeration.
I'm grateful for my mom's enthusiasm for public events.
She chased down the torch when the Winter Olympics came to Salt Lake and dragged along whoever would go with her. I decided to remain indoors, where it was warm, and she called me when she found that torch to tell me all about how exciting it was. If there was a free concert or any kind of fair going on, she would find time to go to Salt Lake for those, too.
I'm grateful for my mom's support.
Here is Mom sitting in the Cyprus High School gym bleachers with her camcorder bag and camera right next to her. It could have been my or Brooke's Spinnaker Review or one of Carly's performances. She would also go to every one of Jaron's soccer games, Scott's Jiu Jitsu tournaments and would try to pry out of me when Brandon's basketball games were so she could get to those, too.
I thought, since Thanksgiving is coming up, I'd share some things I'm thankful that my mom did as I think of them.
I'm thankful that my mom taught me to dress nice.
When I was a teenager, of course I wanted to dress trendy, but what is trendy is not always what is modest or looks good. She would catch me in some outfit that I could only imagine made me look like a hoodlum and make me change my clothes. She would tell me, "The way you dress is the kind of people you'll attract. If you dress like a skank, you're not going to attract nice people." It makes sense.
I'm thankful my mom put me in dance lessons.
I was so enthusiastic about being on the dance teams in junior high and high school and I never would have had the talent if I hadn't had the training. When I was little, I would sit with her after a performance and we would watch other dancers and she would tell me, "You have to be sharp, Honey, like that girl." I was kind of a shy, mellow dancer when I was little.
I'm thankful my mom made me take piano lessons.
We would whine and whine because we hated practicing, but my mom made all five of us take piano. I have to admit that I love playing, but I still hate practicing. My mom would try to help us when we were stuck on a song. She'd stand by the piano and clap the beat and sing the notes. We would yell at her and tell her, "Mom! That's not helping. I can't play when you do that!"
I'm grateful for my mom's personality.
If nothing else, her antics make for a great story. I remember when Carly was a baby, she was taking a nap and one of the neighbor kids kept ringing our doorbell and running away. My mom was getting frustrated because she didn't want the baby to wake up. By the third time she had caught on to his plan. She waited for him to ring the doorbell and when he took off running she was right behind him. She caught him by the arm and swatted his behind and told him, "Now go home and tell your mother why I smacked you!"
I'm grateful my mom took us to visit our Great Grandma Sophie when we were little.
We hated when she would pile us into the back of the Baja truck every sunday and drive us up to Ogden to see our great grandma. There was nothing to do there, except try and find where the hole in the basement went, or go down the street and pick cherries, or dig in to the bowl of candy she always had on her kitchen table, or watch cable tv. :) On the way home, my brothers and sisters and I would always sing songs or tell eachother scary stories. We still laugh at the stuff we made up. Beside that, we got to know our great grandma!
I sit in my car for at least two hours everyday. There's nothing else to do in there except listen to music. These lyrics stuck out to me when I was listening to an old mix cd with some One Republic on it. This is from the song "All We Are":
We won't say our goodbyes. You know it's better that way. We won't break, We won't die. It's just a moment of change.
To all who called, texted, emailed, commented, sent cards, sent letters, came by to visit, or even just had us on your minds, we are so grateful to have such wonderful and supportive friends and family. We love you.
Whenever we went on a long trip my mom would play James Taylor and sing along as she drove. You can't help but think of her when you hear his voice.
Some of these songs have nothing to do with the situation, but they have phrases that we've had experiences with and make us think of our Mom, or they help remind us that we can get through this hard time.
Families Are Forever
Beloved Mother, Sister, Aunt, Daughter
Our mother was born October 31, 1956 and returned to live with our Heavenly Father on August 8, 2008. She was a wonderful woman who loved her children and loved her friends and family. She was an elementary school teacher at Gearld Wright Elementary and adored the children in her classes. She spent her time in the service of her family and we will rejoice when we will be together again. Families are forever.