The Dash
By: Linda Ellis
I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on her casket from beginning to the end. He noted that first came the date of her birth and spoke of the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years. For that dash represents all the time that she spent alive on earth and now only those who loved her know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own, the cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard; Are there things you would like to change?
For you never know how much time is left that can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough to consider what is true and real
and always try to understand the way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives like we have never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile,
Remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy is being read with your life’s actions to rehash…
Would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?
Would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
The last time I journaled I couldn’t have guessed there to be only 2 more days left of my Mom’s life. Her precious life. She took her last breathe at 11:50am yesterday, May 12th. I don’t want to go to bed because I’m afraid to distance the memory of her. I want to be able to always say, “I lost my Mom yesterday,” “I got to see my Mom one last time yesterday,” “I was able to hold her hand yesterday,” “kiss her forehead yesterday.”
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
I couldn’t finish yesterday’s journal because my emotions crept up as I was thinking of those last moments with my Mom. I’ve been laying in her bed off and on, taking in her scent before it leaves the room, staring out the window as she did for a year and a half, listening to the birds chirping outside, listening to the muffled conversation and activity going on downstairs, trying to feel her presence and her spirit. I miss her so much and my heart is in so much pain when I think of my short visit with her ten days ago for her 55th birthday. Last week when I came home I made it a point to lay in bed with her for 10 hours straight, only getting up to go to the bathroom and get something little to eat. I laid and held her hand, stroked her hair as she always did for me growing up, and kissed her – giving her zurburts on her cheek – every so often.
I just woke up from a nap in her bed and am now sitting outside admiring the backyard my sister and I grew up in, sitting at the patio table where we shared so many summer dinners, memories, BBQ’s, parties, and laughter. Everywhere I look there is something sentimental: a picture, something she last touched, a special gift Molly or I had given her, sympathy and get well cards, a Happy Birthday balloon still floating from last week, my Mother’s Day card that arrived an hour after she passed, and all of her gizmos and gadgets that she just HAD to have from TJMaxx.
I’m numb. It doesn’t feel real. Dad came in to town yesterday. What a joy to see him, hug him, cry with him, let him cry with us, and have his support with memorial service planning. Though he never saw her in her sick state, it is evident that he gets it and he understands. He loved her and he loves us. A lot of memories and a lot of fun times.
I’m still in shock and don’t think it will hit me until after it’s all over and we are back in Spokane. There is a small part of me that wants to leave, wants to run away from it all TODAY. There is another small part of me that doesn’t want to ever leave FW, because it would symbolize “moving on” and “forgetting.” There is another part of me that wants to pretend she is still living, still sick, and still upstairs in her bed, where I always knew I could find her the last year and a half. I could count on her joy in seeing me – the many times I chose to come home and surprise her!!!
My head is spinning and my body is constantly aching. My joints hurt and it is too painful to attempt anything strenuous. Two days ago my body was in full shock, from head to toe shaking, chills, headache, the works. I’m grateful for the Lord’s timing. I could have been alone, I could have been driving, but I had just gotten to program. Was getting up to go to the bathroom one last time before lunch when my phone rang. It was on silent, so what cued me in on looking down at my phone to see Aunt Becky calling? My heart lurched and I swallowed hard. Possibly a 24-hour notice call? Possibly a malfunction in draining my Mom’s stomach? But I never in a million years would have guessed I would hear my Aunt, amidst her own tears, say, “Your Mom just passed away.”
I almost dropped the phone but tried to get off as quickly as possible. I wanted to drop down to the ground then and there – in the hallway. My vision blurred and the only thing I could take in was Krista walking down the hallway. The next hour is hazy. I cried. I gasped for air. I felt a weighted pit in my stomach. My mind raced. My mind blanked. I shook violently. My teeth chattered. I wanted so desperately to be in the arms of my Mom at that moment. I needed her touch. I felt so alone but thankfully wasn’t alone. I was safe in the arms of Krista and Monique. That pain is still so raw. I can empathize with that hour, still feeling those strong emotions every so often.
Craig and I caught a flight out and made it home. It didn’t feel right the moment I stepped through the front door. My Mom was there, but she wasn’t there. Her body was upstairs waiting for my goodbye. That is a sight I will never forget. I knelt by her bedside and held her hands and stroked her hair as I had gotten to do just the week before. I kissed her forehead every so often and whispered in her ear that I loved her, letting her know that I would be okay. I sat there for an hour, wailing, mourning, praying, and being. The family gathered around her bed and we took communion and prayed for her. It was then that the funeral home arrived to take her away. As I watched the process I just kept telling myself, "that's not her. she isn't in that body anymore." But how hard it was to watch two strangers take away the only mother I've ever had - only to never get to see her again, laugh with her, joke with her, and lay in bed with her.
Your love is always and forever in my heart and I too "love you with all my heart and always will" (her last words to me). Your tenderness and selfless character will never be forgotten.
Don’t worry about us. Dad is still our Dad and you have been divided up amongst your 5 brothers and sisters who have done a great job at reflecting your spirit to Molly and me. Watch us from above and smile that beautiful smile.
Friday, May 16, 2014
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
Saturday, May 17, 2014
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.
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.
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