Your Presence

Allison, this day your presence is profound. You have spurred me to add touches of pink and turquoise in the house, in my life, as I anticipate the spring and rebirth. You know I always liked to put out my Easter or spring "things", but now, with time and reflection, I can help create the surroundings that I desire. There are touches of you and our life together, as a family, as mother and daughter, as sister to sister, and as father to child all around. Some are so subtle that no one would notice, no, there is no shrine, there are no burning candles round the clock, but there are those significant, and even strategically placed sources of strength and energy, sending out light and hope and love. I won't say they are all I have now, of you, because that is not true. You reside in my heart, your spirit permeates and spreads through our lives and the lives of so many, but still, the tangible helps me. So, when I sit down to read or play with Rex, or serve dinner to your dad or Jen, or guests, or prepare a room for visitors, or create the place where those who desire can stop off for tea, wine or whatever is needed at the time, when I do all these things and live my life, there you are, in a new and rare form.

We all have our ways of dealing with pain and loss. And reason has little to do with how we cope. We no longer need a reason. Did you know that is one beauty of this journey, I no longer need a reason, excuse or pardon. Perhaps I never did. I just thought I did. Society thought I did. My mother taught me that I did. But I don't. You have taught me that. I have entered a new realm.

Today, I don't need a reason, but my heart has mixed feelings. Yes, it's your grandmother's birthday, how old would she be...let's see....she left at 62 years of age, and has been gone 15 years...so today, she would be 77 years. I often wonder, as I do about you, what would she have been like? Where would the journey take her? She seemed so young to leave us, we still needed her, wanted her here, wanted her to see our children grow up and share the experiences. We wanted to turn to her for wisdom and strength and many times I wanted to laugh with her, cry with her. But I learned something about grief in that intense loss, and unknown to me, the experience would prepare me for so much more, such intense grief that I feel ripped to shreds on the inside. You. You are gone. She is gone. But not really. When those who care try to explain about the deceased living on in our hearts, I wasn't sure what they meant, but now I know. Your presence, her presence, is almost more profound than if you had lived.

I know you and my mother have found one another. God gave me the gift of knowing that before you left. Remember that Sunday when you saw her in the room, and I thought you were confused? Just two days before you took your last breath in my arms, you asked me why Grandma was behind me in your hospital room. I thought at first that you were confused, then I realized that not only were you NOT confused, that she WAS in the room, and her spirit was leading you HOME. I also realized, then, that your time with Dad, Jennifer and me was limited. And I realized so much more. I realized that all I believed and hoped for about heaven and God's promise was true, that He does provide grace and mercy when you follow and trust and cling to faith. I realized that He takes care of all of His children, and that I was His child, too, even though I am grown. I realized that no earthly thing can satisfy me and make me whole, that it is the Lord above who had set eternity within my heart.

It's a day for blessings and hope and faith. Your presence surrounds me, in the physical and tangible, but more than that, for eternity, your presence resides in me. Memories of my mother surface and I miss her. I miss what was and what would have been. Perhaps I will walk down Main Street St. Charles later, a favorite past time of mine and hers, perhaps I will just read and pray, or maybe I will bake, another of her favorite pasttimes. Bake for someone who would love to have some chocolate cake or homemade cookies. I will do what I always do, live to honor, thank God for this day, and make the best of it, my way, which is really God's way.