Words About My Mom

[stolen from my sissy]...

Maureen was my mom's first friend here in the Pacific Northwest. We were extremely close to her entire family growing up, she also threw my bridal shower! Maureen spoke about my mom at the memorial and I thought it captured my mom perfectly. I felt peace listening to Maureen's words because they were true.  A little good, a little bad and a little humor. Her speech is below if you wish to read.

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How do we say goodbye to a friend who touched our lives in so many ways and left us too soon? 

We miss her.  We will continue to miss her.  She left a legacy for all of us.  We are all a little better having had her in our lives …  But, in Susie’s typical no nonsense way, she would want us move on and get on with the business of living.  Living is both easier and harder now that she touched our lives.  Easier because she modeled for us how to be strong and how to have faith and how to find joy in the simple things.  Harder because she touched us—through her many kindnesses and special ways—and we don’t want to let her go.

Almost twenty-five years ago I met Susie at our church nursery soon after we had both arrived to the Northwest. Our friendship was instant. We raised our kids together—and we, too, grew as our lives took unexpected turns.  I moved around the country, but the distance was never a problem.  As many of you know, Susie was as good a long distance friend as she was a neighbor.  We picked right back up with each phone call, visit, and move.  Oh, how we laughed together.

  

Over the years, I learned many valuable lessons from her.  She taught me to give my small children Benadryl to knock them out on plane rides…  She said it was a public service.  She taught me how to survive when our husbands were on business trips.  Simply make the day shorter—feed the kids at 4, pajamas at 4:30 and put the kids to bed at 5—then put your feet up and pop a cold one.   Susie had so many helpful parenting hints she could have written a best selling book!

Susie was humble about her many accomplishments:  She made each house a home through many moves.  She was an awesome mother to two wonderful young women.  She made room and had the time for her aging parents.  Miss Susie created a preschool program and was a beloved teacher; some of her students are here today.  Susie went out of her comfort zone and sold space in the family’s parenting magazine.  She dreaded approaching people for a sale, but she cherished the relationships she made as a result. 

Susie touched many of you through church: Sunday School and Bible studies, dinners and wine tastings, or through play productions.  Susie was a mentor through Communities in Schools, connecting with and guiding Mia.   Babies R Us was lucky to have her for a few years, as was the Breast Center at St. Francis.  Her efficient manner reduced stress and her gentleness and kind words surely brought strength to many women.

When I think of Susie, I have to smile.  She was one of those women who made us feel good.  She found joy in small things.  She had a gift for making everyone she met feel special—whether it was a hug, a card, a little gift, or a quick phone call, she always remembered each of us. Of course, she was the first to get her Christmas cards out—the day after Thanksgiving—hers was probably the first in your mailbox as well. I will miss that envelope with her distinctive handwriting and a least one heart or smiley face announcing that it really was the beginning of the Christmas season.  And, she had beaten me again!

I remember the call I got from Susie two Christmases ago. I heard the fear in her voice and the hope in her message and what she wasn’t telling me.  I grieved that day!  I thought of Molly and Megan and what they would go though.  I thought of how fragile life is and how we don’t know from one day to the next what might come our way.  But, I knew the power of prayer, and like the rest of you, got busy on my knees. 

Prayers were answered: her birthday passed.  Another Christmas, and finally her 55th birthday, and Susie was still with us.  During that time, she got to share Molly and Dustin’s engagement and bridal shower.  She saw Megan working hard in grad school and see Megan and Craig in a loving marriage. Despite her illness, Susie had time for all of us: our birthdays and special events, our fears and illnesses were still acknowledged with calls and prayers and cards. 

She was also surrounded by love—Molly and Megan were at her side.  Her siblings have done more than any siblings I have ever known.  Becky and Debbie, Jeff, Kent, and Greg, you are an inspiration to us all about what it means to be family.  Your mother Marge would be proud. 

Susie was supported as well by friends—holding her hand at the doctor and taking notes for her, visiting her, carting her around, sending food and flowers and well wishes. Eventually, Susie allowed more of us the gift of caring for her personal needs. She accepted what little we could do with love and kindness and dignity and humor. 

We will miss her.  Life will go on—a graduation, a wedding, holidays, babies born, and other life events—and if we look, we will sense her among us—in a tender touch, a greeting with her signature back rub, through a child’s eyes, in a thoughtful note sent from one friend to another, in a clean, tidy home, and through a loud, piercing whistle calling us to pray and eat and gather round.  She is with us.  

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Maureen, your words were perfect. You captured my mom and her spirit perfectly. Thank you for sharing.

16 days...

I'm afraid of each day. I approach the day with hesitancy and fight the hours that pass by every minute. Yesterday I was afraid of the number 16, today it is the number 17. With each passing day comes another day that my Mom has missed and another day further away from the last day I got to see her...talk with her. I went 28 years straight without my Mom missing a day of my life. Her presence, whether physically near or far, was always there. I knew she would answer her phone, respond to a text, and be there if need be. Now, I face the number 16 with sadness. Her absence is felt more and more. 16 days have gone by where I haven't been able to fill her in on what's going on in my life. Granted, towards the end of her life details were cumbersome and only small talk was appropriate, for she couldn't comprehend the small facts. Simplicity was favored. So why do I want to sit over a cup of coffee with her and share everything that has been happening? That wasn't the norm the past 6 months - why do I long for it now?

The most random things sadden me. I long for her touch the most because that was how she could show love and I could respond during her time in bed. Physical embrace was all we had. That's what I yearn for. That is what instantly brings a tear to my eye. As I sit and think of my Mom I am reminded of her beauty and passion for life. I want so badly to embrace that, allowing that to be part of a my life, in a way that I can remember her. But I find myself stuck in the wallow and stuck in the gut wrenching pain.

This week I have felt “off.” I don't feel right and I feel like my feelings shouldn’t still be raw and evident. I feel the need to hop right back into life and act like things are fading. However, I don’t want these feelings to fade. I don’t want the memories to fade. I am holding tight to them. Every minute I fight the feeling to run or flee – to give up! 

I’m not though! 

I can’t - mostly because I need the support now more than ever.

Two nights ago and in the waking morning I found myself angry. I’m not angry with God. I’m not angry with those around me. I’m angry with myself. I’m angry at the situation I’m in – and I was reminded through mass amounts of emails that I am behind in academics! I’m frustrated with my faith because I feel like it isn’t comforting me whatsoever – and that it should be. Friends mention how it should be comforting to know she is in heaven, know He has a purpose, know things work out for good. I don’t find healing within those truths right now. I believe them but can’t allow those statements to wrap their arms around me and hold me. All I want is for my Mom to be able to hold me. As silly as these sounds, I long for her touch and her motherly influence.

She is still forever missed.

Two Weeks TOO Long

It's already been two weeks since my Mom passed away. The 14 days have felt like an eternity and I can't fathom two more weeks! I've felt so lost without her...trapped...and suffocated from the feeling of not being able to get a hold of her. I'm thankful for the song she had picked out for her service:

[from my sister's blog] "My mom requested this song to be played at her memorial. I have been singing and humming along to it in my head all morning. I somehow am able to find peace knowing that she has been set free and her chains are gone. I saw my mom literally deteriorate before my eyes each day and I want nothing more than for her to finally be comfortable and happy. My faith lets me know that she is finally in a better place." 

I couldn't have said it better myself. It's a constant battle to remind myself of this truth. I hourly find  myself dwelling on the loss, which is only natural. But I need to remember the glorious day my Mom is spending for all of eternity. Selfishly, I long to hear her voice, hold her hand, and see her face. Last night I laid on the couch, sobbing, listening to the 6 voicemails I have saved on my phone...on repeat...just to hear her voice. Just to her her say my name one last time. Just to feel close to her again. I've never felt this distanced from her and I'm in fear that with each passing day more and more distance will grow. I fear losing the memories. I fear moving on. I'm not ready to yet. I'm not.

[Jesus Calling] "In a world of unrelenting changes, I am the One who never changes. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. Find in Me the stability for which you have yearned. I created a beautifully ordered world: one that reflected my perfection. Now, however, the world is under the bondage of sin and evil. Every person on the planet faces gaping jaws of uncertainty. The only antidote to this poisonous threat is drawing closer to Me. In My Presence you can face uncertainty with perfect Peace."

John 16:33 -

"I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect] peace and confidence. In the world you have tribulation and trials and distress and frustration; but be of good cheer [take courage; be confident, certain, undaunted]! For I have overcome the world. [I have deprived it of power to harm you and have conquered it for you.]

I.L.Y.T.P

If I should have a daughter....

Sarah Key - TED Talks - "If I should have a daughter..."

If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. 

And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." 

And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. 

There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. 

"And, baby," I'll tell her, "don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." 

But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix. But that's what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. 

I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. 

That there'll be days like this. ♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫ When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. 

And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. 

You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. 

And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. 

And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. 

"Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." 

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things.

And always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. 

Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. 

And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

xoxo

Words cannot describe what the past 5 days have been like. Unless you've been here, in the house, or around the family, it's a world that cannot be explained. It's unreal to lose a parent. Isn't it in their job description to be grandparents? Well, the Lord didn't have it in my Mom's storybook, which is something I am going to have to learn to be okay with. I've found that it's okay to argue with Him at times because it teaches us more about His character and His purpose. 

Yesterday could not have been a more beautiful day. The sun was shining as I'm sure my Mom was looking down, counting all of the heads that sat in those pews at St. Luke's. Service details and word of mouth travels fast - but my Mom's love, care, and compassion for others traveled faster. The amount of support is incredible. My Mom was an incredible woman and I considered it a gift to see each and every family member and friend. People traveled from Oregon, Nevada, Kentucky, Ohio, Spokane, Texas, and Colorado to be here. I grew tired of hugs and the question, "how are you?" but know it was all out of love and support. What other day will I get so achey from giving so many hugs? I can't think of one! I woke up sore this morning around my neck...."I'm sorry doctor....I've just been giving too many hugs! I'll try to stop!" ;)

I got to spend some last minute time with my Mom. On our drive to the church we stopped at Starbucks. As I jump out of the car to go with Craig I quickly remember Mom. I didn't want to leave her in the car alone. So, I sat there and waited...with Mom on my lap. It was a special time for us. I talked with her a little bit but it was frustrating she wouldn't talk back. She ALWAYS had to have the last word when we chatted. I tried to think of her favorite Starbucks drink. Told her where we were headed and that I wouldn't leave her until I had to.

She didn't leave my side until service. She remained right under my arm until Molly and I walked her down the aisle. So many family and friends came to hug, shed a tear, and give their condolences. Little did they know they were hugging me AND my Mom. Didn't want to creep anyone out by telling them...but most of you were hugging Susie too! She would have wanted it no other way. It reminded me of my childhood. When I would go grocery shopping with her I always had to stay by her side with one hand on the cart. I would get a "MEGAN!" if I took my hand off. To this day, when I would go to WinCo or Costco with her, I naturally had one hand on the cart. We had many laughs over that silly childhood habit. So yesterday, I kept one hand on the cart.

Molly held a lit candle as I cradled my Mom down the aisle to place her on the alter. We each lit our birth candles - the candles that have been kept as decorations for the last 25 and 28 years. We lit them for the very first time and placed Mom in between us. The cross that hung on my Mom was given to her by St. Luke's on October 5, 2003....oddly my Aunt Becky's birthday. The black box looked so boring that we thought she needed some bling!

The day was a bit overwhelming...er...a lot overwhelming! I wanted to run and hide after service - I even told some people that - Chris Davis being one of them! So of course he pulls me into his office and lets me be. He tried to small talk - I said, "no small talk Chris!" So I just sat. Processed. Breathed and then headed back towards the reception hall where I was greeted with memories, stories, and laughter around my Mom. Therapeutic in a much needed way.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to those that helped. Close friends who were also grieving so graciously provided all of the food, set up the reception, set up the lobby, and the sanctuary, so that Molly and I could just "show up" with Mom in tow. 

Everyone is amazing and my Mom would have wanted it no other way.  

I anticipate the next few days, weeks, and months to be hard - maybe a bit harder than this week has been in a different way. Please don't let me fall off the face of the Earth because that is what I tend to do. I know I will need the support of family and friends, whether it's text messages, FB messages, phone calls, or simple prayers, I am going to need it in a major way. I just lost my Mom this week. I think this will come and slap me across the face as I attempt to return to normalcy. Please, please, don't let me slip into darkness.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/susieksmith

Dear Mom...

Dear Mom,

Today is your service, in 4 hours. I couldn’t sleep last night at all and kept having dreams that I was late. It’s an awful feeling to know that today is the second day I’ve been anticipating for a year and a half – the first day being the day we lost you.

I’m grateful for the 28 years we did have together. I wish we could have had 28 more but know I will get to spend eternity with you.

Molly and I have worked so hard to put together a beautiful “Celebration of Life” for you. There will be some tears and tissues though, sorry, that is something we can’t control. Craig worked laboriously on a slide show that I have yet to view. I wanted to wait until today to see it...but we made sure to include the poem you picked out…and I think you will like the fun surprise your siblings put together.

My heart is still hurting, Mom. Usually when my heart hurts this badly I call you just to hear your voice, but I can’t do that anymore. I’ve got to learn to be strong and stand on my own two feet now. You have left me with some stellar qualities though that will reflect your spirit. However, I can’t guarantee strength today. Today you need to let me cry, Mom. Today you need to let me mourn and be sad that I’ve lost my only mother. I know that tears scare you but today they are justified. So instead of disregarding my grief, wipe my tears for me. Hold my hand. Hold me and let me feel your motherly warmth.

Today we celebrate you. We celebrate your life – your 55 years – your smile – your character – your heart – your friendships – your compassion – your family – your giving nature – your faith.

“I love you with all of my heart and always will.”

Megs