I look across at your house and see shadows of the trees dancing in the sunlight and I’m reminded of our porch dances.
You’d sway to the rhythm of your own music and smile impishly. Even though I was across the yard looking through my window I knew there was a twinkle in your eye.
As you twirled under the porch light, I waved and danced along with you wishing we could stay like this forever; a happy moment suspended in time.
I loved when you danced because that meant you were happy. You were so full of life and even when the Alzheimer’s was robbing you of so much you still had a passion for living.
I’ll never forget the time you told me about your dancing skirt. It was denim with several gores; it came down almost to your ankles and it had a nice twirl. I came over one day and you had it on. You told me that when you put it on it made you dance. That skirt is long gone but I hope it is making someone else dance.
Today is a day to remember. You’ve been gone two years and I miss you so much, but when I think of you dancing in heaven it brings me peace because I know how happy you are in the arms of Jesus.
I hope there is a porch in heaven so that someday soon we can dance again.
Let them praise His name with dancing….Psalm 149:3
As Christmas draws near I am realizing just how much not having my Mom with me this year hurts. I know I am not alone in missing someone. Several of you who read have also lost loved ones and you know that tug and pull of celebrating while grieving.
We will make new memories this year but the air will be palpable with longing for those who are not present. One of the new memories for our family will be taking Roses to my mom’s grave in honor of what would have been her and Dad’s 59th wedding anniversary. He had been giving her roses for the past several years.
I think that is what hurts the most – knowing that my Dad has lost his bride. He married her on Christmas Day in 1959 and he loved her well through all the years they had. I remember the week she was in Hospice he held her hand and told her that he had loved her for 58 years and would never stop loving her. I know she heard him because she tried to tell him that she loved him. We heard the word love. It was one of the last moments that we knew she was still somewhat aware of us. A moment we will treasure.
Two hearts entwined; inseparable LBT
Christmas is Love. The greatest love ever given to us was the birth of Jesus. It is because of his love that we are capable of loving. It is because of his love that my parents were able to celebrate so many years together and raise their children to know Jesus. I know my mom loved Jesus. She would tell me that she wanted to see Jesus. In the midst of the Alzheimer’s she still knew who Jesus was and she would talk about him.
This year she is celebrating Christmas with Jesus. She is having the ultimate Christmas and so even though I miss her terribly and know that Christmas will be bittersweet this year I am rejoicing with her that she is experiencing the greatest love of all this Christmas.
She has received the gift that was anticipated for so long. Her long-expected Saviour has arrived. As we are celebrating the Advent of Christmas, we too can wait expectantly for the Christ-child. We can open our hearts to receive him. He will be our comfort and help us navigate the missing, the longing, the memories and the hope of one day being reunited.
And this is the testimony: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. 1 John 5:11
When last we spoke, well when last I wrote and you read which is still a conversation between friends, I shared with you that I wanted to do a recap post of the 31 Days of Grief Journey. I wanted to share what I had gleaned. I had planned to do that sooner than now but last week proved to be a week of needing extra rest. I’ve learned, due to the MCTD, to hold on loosely to plans and go with the flow. I think, too, that I needed some extra time to let the writing settle before revisiting.
So, earlier I sat down and read through the series to see what stood out to me. To discover what wisdom there might be that I could take away. To see what helped me and how can I summarize that for all of us as a take away to remember; knowing of course, that the journey is not over and there are more stores, memories, and lessons in the process. And of course, the ever-present grief will ebb and flow. Below is a list of 12 truths that I received from this journey.
Writing through my grief was designed by God; It was a calling he put on my heart (1 Thessalonians 5:24).
Grief is a process and it can’t be rushed. There will be times it will crush your heart (Psalm 31:18).
Even when we feel betrayed by God, he loves us and understands our hurt. He will make all things right in his time (Isaiah 55:8-9).
We can never truly lose our loved ones, they will always live in our hearts. Remembering is necessary. Our memories of good times with our loved ones is a source of comfort (Philippians 1:3).
Having a community of friends and family for support in our grief is important (Proverbs 27:9).
In the midst of our grief life does go on. We can still find joy and laughter. We can find peace in ordinary days (Psalm 23:1).
The floodgates will open sooner or later. Our tears are sacred and Jesus cares about them; they are collected in his bottle (Psalm 56:8).
Reading Scripture can be a source of strength. Remembering his promises can sustain us (Isaiah 40:31).
He will be our comfort (Isaiah 63:13, Matthew 5:4).
If we sit in the stillness we will feel his peace (Philippians 4:7).
we have to live in the reality of heaven’s sweetness in order to truly be at peace in this life (Hebrews 13:14, Psalm 30:11-12).
Christ is our only hope (John 3:16).
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalm 30:5b
Joy resides deep in our soul. Grief is not the absence of joy, but the realization that even when we grieve we hold on to joy. Joy is not crushed by our grief but rather sustains us in our grief.
The joy of the Lord is your strength. Nehemiah 8:10
Thank you for coming along on this journey with me. I hope it has touched your heart and brought you encouragement. If you have not read the series you can click hereto be taken to the table of contents page. Once there, clicking on each title will take you to that day’s post. I will continue to share updates on the grief journey and share stories about my Mom from time to time as well as sharing other writings. I hope you come back. I’d love to hear from you in the comments.
The most simple things can bring the most happiness. ~~ Izabella Scorupco
One of the things that my Grandmother, Mom and I have in common is the love of rocks and other bits and pieces of nature. When organizing Mom’s antique secretary after she passed away I ran across a bowl of leaves. I left them there. I inadvertently threw away a dried up piece of twig that she had brought in from the yard just a few days before she passed away. My father was looking for it but I had already cleaned the sideboard and thrown it away not realizing what it was or that he wanted to hang on to it.
My niece remembered as a child that she and my nephew would pick the little wild field daisies and dandelions and bring them to my mom. I remember many times seeing them in little containers on the sink or table as a reminder of a happy day well spent with the grandkids. In honor of those memories, they sent a beautiful wreath of daisies for her memorial service. Those flowers then and now are far more precious than diamonds or rubies.
I know it’s sentimental really to hang on to such seemingly trivial bits and pieces but sometimes it is the small things that invoke a tender memory or happy thought of our loved ones.
My mother has two large rocks that belonged to her mother. One of them came from a long-ago trip to Arizona and I’m not sure where the other one came from but it is large, round, brown and smooth. I remember seeing that rock at my grandmother’s when I was a child, leaning against a door to prop it open. My mother almost gave it to me once, but then changed her mind. I’m glad she kept it to enjoy, I’m sure seeing it reminded her of her mother and her love of rocks and other bits of nature.
One of the days we were at Hospice I found a painted rock that had been left outside near the front entry. It was painted in shades of green and blue, colors that Mom would have loved. It had a message painted on it that said spread happiness. A fitting message for someone who had spent her life spreading happiness to others. I brought it inside for her room.
I don’t know If you have heard about the painted rock sensation that has been around now for a few years; it is a group of people that paint rocks with messages and leave them in public places for others to find. It originated with a woman in Massachusetts who started the Kindness Rocks Movement. She started a trend that has gone worldwide and there are several smaller groups that have cropped up as well, all doing basically the same thing. There is a group in the community where our Hospice was located, called Maysville KY hidden rocks.
The premise is that you find a rock, enjoy it and then rehide it for someone else to discover.if you decide to keep the rock that is ok too. But you are encouraged to paint your own rock to hide.
Knowing my mom’s love of rocks my Dad put it in her hand and told her about the rock. He let her hold it for quite a while and then he placed it on the table beside her bed. When I told him about the history of painted rocks he decided he wanted to keep this one since it was the last thing that my mom held. When he got back home, he put it on the back porch near where they would sit as a reminder of her.
Moms painted rock, the picture was taken and shared on Maysville KY hidden rocks Facebook page. The lady who took the photo had seen the rock and took a picture, but left the rock for someone else to find. So glad she did as it brought happiness to our day. It was leaning against the trash can just before the main entrance to Hospice at Kenton Pointe.
I guess we are a sentimental bunch and many would roll their eyes at keeping rocks, leaves, wildflowers, also known as weeds, and other bits of nature, but that’s how we roll. It’s not the expensive things or material possessions that mean the most in the end. It’s the simple things, more often than not from nature, that spark our greatest sentimentality and spread happiness.
Happy are the people whose God is the Lord! Psalm 144:15
Grace for the journey,
Teresa
Postscript: I had a conversation on FB earlier with the lady who posted the picture of the rock we found. Turns out she had seen my Mom back in February when Mom had been on a Hospice respite and had talked with her. She told me she would lead her back to the nurse’s station when Mom seemed confused. That was a blessing to find out that someone had been so kind to her. I would never have known that if I hadn’t decided to look for the origin of the rock. God always sends us the blessing we need at the time we need them. How’s that for spreading happiness!
Blessings!
Come back tomorrow for more of the journey? Just a reminder that I usually post later in the day. Clicking on the ladybug graphic will take you to the first page in this series with links to the daily posts. Thanks for reading!
My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.
Isaiah 32:18 NIV
When my Mom was a child her family lived in Flatwoods, Kentucky while my grandfather worked for the railroad. For some reason, my mom always equated living there with some of her best memories, even though she was only four at the time. She told me that when one of the babies was born the children were sent to Preacher Cyrus’s house around the corner (Billy Ray’s grandfather). His children played with Mom’s older siblings and it seems that when there was a birth they were sent to the Cyrus home to wait it out.
One of her memories was of an upstairs room wallpapered in newspaper print. She remembered a skeleton on the paper, probably from an advertisement. She also remembered walking across the back alley to the post office. Once some cousins from grandma’s side of the family sent them a large box of clothes with chocolate laying on top. She remembered having to help her brother Bill, lug the box home from the post office.
house Mom lived in
back of house
street house is on
Preacher Cyrus’s house
The blue house was the one Mom lived in; White house was the Cyrus house
Several years ago she and Dad went back to Flatwoods looking for the house and the old post office. The post office no longer existed but the foundation was there. They stopped to take a look; a local policeman stopped by to see if he could help them. They shared their story with him and he confirmed that the post office had at one time stood on that spot. They had trouble finding the street she had lived on so they stopped in at a local mart for directions. A gentleman there remembered the Maddox’s – turned out he had played with Mom’s brother, Billy, so he knew exactly where they needed to go. When they arrived at the house the current owners came out to talk to them and showed them around their home. Some things had changed over the years but Mom still recognized it. It was a great day for Mom getting to revisit a place that had been lodged in her heart since childhood.
In 2014, before Mom’s memories were completely gone and she still mentioned Flatwoods we took another drive. By this time the street she had lived on had been renamed Cyrus Ct. after Billy Ray. The house he owned pre-Achy Breaky Heart sits next door to the house Mom had lived in. This time we had to go to the Library to find the directions because Mom’s memories were scattered, Dad couldn’t remember the name of the first street we needed to turn on and the alley behind the house had been opened so it was situated a little different.
All we had to go on was that it was around the corner from the Cyrus home, so I marched into the Flatwoods library and told them we were looking for my Mom’s childhood home that was around the corner from the Cyrus’s. I’m sure they thought we were just curious and being nosy. They got out the map and showed us the street and explained how to get there. So we did a drive by and took a few pictures. It was a bittersweet day because I knew Mom’s memories were fading fast and that it would probably be her last trip to Flatwoods to walk down memory lane.
I’m not sure of the reason that Flatwoods had such a tug on Mom’s heart but it did. It seemed that Flatwoods represented a happy time in her life. Don’t we all have memories of those places that represent some of our greatest happiness in life? I’m glad we took her back one last time.
Grace for the journey,
Teresa
Come back tomorrow for more of the journey? Just a reminder that I usually post later in the day. Clicking on the ladybug graphic will take you to the first page in this series with links to the daily posts. Thanks for reading!
Teresa L Hardymon 