Let Me Try Again...

As soon as I published my post last night, I could feel my heart drop. I knew it wasn't what I wanted it to be, and I just wanted to delete it. Not because there was really anything wrong with it, I didn't say anything I didn't want to say. It was more that I left so much unsaid. It's not enough to communicate that today will be hard and that I will miss my mom. I believe it is important to communicate the depth with which she will be missed.
But how can I do that? What words could I use that would ever be enough? It's not simply that I miss her and that it makes me sad; it's the fact that even moments that should be filled with nothing but joy are reminders of the fact that she's not here, and she never will be again. It's the fact that as much as I will miss her today, it's not my day, and I will have to watch my sister long for her presence even more. It's the fact that it's not just today that will be hard, but every day that lies ahead of us will be tinged with her absence. The fact that she will miss the birth of two new grandchildren, and that my sister and sister-in-law won't simply get to focus on the joy of bringing new life into the world, because they will have to miss her, too.
It's the fact that in the coming days, our family will have to endure the loss of another loved one - the fourth death in the family for my siblings and me this year alone. And it's also the fact that we won't simply be allowed to grieve that loss, because we will still be grieving the loss of Mom. That we will have to see my grandma lose her husband and know that, though she will still be well taken care of, she will miss out on letting my mom take care of her. That we will look in the kitchen knowing that she should be in there, cooking or cleaning up or talking to and encouraging her sisters and mother-in-law, but she won't be there. It won't be just one loss; it will be the loss of her all over again.
Everyday seems to bring reminders that cause us to come to terms, again, with the fact that she's no longer here. Those are hard enough, But it's the big days, like today, that the loss can seem unbearable. But these are also the days that God steps in and reminds that, though Mom is not here, He is. He has not left us alone. He has carried us through days that we didn't think we could survive, and He will continue to do so.
After I wrote my post last night, my grandma Prairie sent me this reminder: "Loss of a loved one is so dreadfully painful, it is no wonder that some people literally die with a broken heart. No, life is not fair here on earth, but it IS in heaven and He will make it up to us then for eternity." It's just like her to encourage others when she is going through so much herself. But she's right; this isn't all there is. This pain isn't forever. And I trust that God will show Himself more glorious in these pain-seared days until He can show us His full glory, for all eternity.

Dear Mom (3)

Dear Mom,
Tomorrow is a big day. At 9:15 tomorrow morning, I'm going with Sarah to an ultrasound to find out what her baby is, and I'll be missing you more than ever. If anyone should be able to go with her, it should be you. I've never known anyone to love as deeply as you loved your grandchildren. You should get to be one of the first to know the sex of the baby. You should get to be a part of the baby's birth. You should get to be a part of the baby's life. And the baby should get to have you in its life.
This is such a joyous time - our family is anticipating two new lives entering our world next spring. But the joy is not without pain. As we realize that life goes on in the birth of these babies, we can't help but remember how your life was seemingly ripped from us, how much we miss you, and how much we still need you.
We need you to love our babies. We need you to take care of them. We need you to take care of us.
We found out last week that Grandpa Prairie is nearing his last days. This would have been a great loss no matter when it happened, but now, as we draw closer to the end of his days on this earth, it feels impossible to have to endure another loss - especially without you. You were always the glue that held us all together. You were always there to take care of everyone, however they needed you. And I just don't know how we're going to do this without you.
But I have to trust that we will. That God is not going to leave us alone in any of this. That He will provide your grandchildren with someone to love them as you would. That He will show us how to take care of each other, in times of blessing and in times of loss.
I've got to stop thinking that you should be here, as if you're missing out on something. You're not. Your death was our loss, but it was your gain. You're not missing anything.
We will miss you tomorrow. We will miss you as we say goodbye to Grandpa, and as we say hello to Sarah and Brandi's babies. And we will miss you everyday in between. But God will give us what we need, just as he has thus far.