Nearly 9 months

I'm not going to lie. The last 9 months have been some of the hardest I've ever had to face. (And if you know my life, that's saying a lot!)
First off, my dad is sitting in my closet. Seriously. I just don't know what to do with his remains, and I can't quite let go of him. The closet has always been the place I go in troubled times, to seek peace, tranquility, and catch my thoughts when they are zooming past faster than on a Nascar track. Now my dad sits there. In a black square case. I go in often, crying, yelling, hoping he can hear me, perhaps see my broken heart?
I used to think it was my precious time with God. Now it's my time with God..... and my dad. which is weird. Can he see me? Does he know or even care about the pain he has caused?

The last 9 months have been, of course, littered with thoughts of my dad. I wish I could talk to him about such and such. Why did he have to be so mean about that? How proud he would be about his grandchildren just now.

The regrets threaten to swallow the peace I have. The ashes threaten to ruin my alone time with God. I can only hope that one day soon, I'll feel like I can indeed let my dad go. Until then I hold on to the ashes that are so very dear. He never chose to say goodbye.........

7 months have passed

Today marks 7 months since my dad decided to leave this life. My posts have become more infrequent, and there are several reasons for that.

First an update on how I've been feeling: These past few months have had some really great patches along with some rough spots.

I'll be walking along, thinking that things are getting better, that I'm fine, and wham! Out of the blue this deep, deep sadness and mourning hits me. The tears come and they don't stop. The worst part of this is that my mind starts racing at the same time. All the "what if's" and "why didn't I.." come back to haunt me. Then I get blind-sided by the "why weren't we good enough", and "why didn't he see that he would be missing all of this?"

The last 2 months many of our birthday's have passed. Their is a void there left by my dad that just won't be filled by anyone but God himself.The kids have felt a bit of sadness not getting the phone call, the card from their grandpa Dale. I mourn for them and their loss. I mourn for my dad who didn't see them as important enough to live. I mourn for the lies he believed from the evil one that he wasn't needed. I mourn for all that he is missing seeing them grow up. I mourn for all the opportunities missed. As kids, they don't even really know how to articulate their grief, their feelings, they can only sense the hole that has been left behind.

I can say that the days between breakdowns are getting farther apart and my cry sessions themselves are getting shorter. I can feel God slowly stitching up my heart. Poking the needle under my skin hurts! But then the Great Physician pulls the thread through and before long I can see a neat row of threads weaved over and under... pulling my brokenness together again. Making me new, renewed!

I'm ever thankful for my Abba Father. The richness of relying on Him in all new ways, pouring out my sorrowful heart to him when I am weak, and the joy of being filled right in the midst of my distress is something I cannot describe with words.

I cannot tell you how many times I have thanked God for Himself, and for giving me a hope and a future, and I can honestly say that having to walk through this unplanned circumstance has been made good only in God. Only in His goodness.

God is all mercy and grace- not quick to anger, is rich in love.

God is good to one and all. Everything he does is suffused with grace.

Creation and creatures applaud you God, your holy people bless you.

They talk about the glories of your rule, they exclaim over your splendor,

letting your world know of your power for good, the lavish splendor of your kingdom.

Your kingdom is a kingdom eternal, you never get voted out of office.

God always does what he says, and is gracious in everything he does.

God gives a hand to those down on their luck, gives a fresh start to those ready to quit.

Psalm 145:8-14 The Message

First holiday's

Well, I haven't written anything lately, and I'm not sure I have too much to say tonight. It is nearly Christmas, and as anyone who has lost someone close them can tell you, this time of year is just tough.
Thanksgiving came and went. My dad always loved this holiday in particular. A home cooked meal and good conversation were his two favorite things and Thanksgiving has both. I couldn't help but think of how he couldn't enjoy it this year.

My birthday came and went. That was a tough day. Dad had been on an Internet card kick and usually sent me a dumb one (that made me roll my eyes) along with another card in the mail. This year I obviously got neither- and you know? I really wished I had a silly card that made me roll my eyes.This was the only birthday my entire life that I didn't hear from him. My loss was greatly felt on this day, but my husband did an excellent job at keeping me sidetracked. I'm pretty sure that is my way of dealing with this death... staying busy. Not that I can help but be busy with 4 children.

Now Christmas is almost here. My dad was never for Christmas. As a young girl, my mom used to drive me to his house and I would pull out a small tree from his basement, place it in his living room, and decorate it for him. I always tried to convince him to put up lights outside, but he would have no part of that. I've been recalling Christmas's spent with him, which weren't many until I became an adult and he had grandchildren. If the roads were clear enough, he liked to make the trek down from Idaho to spend it with us. He really fancied my Martha Stewart homemade eggnog. Last year, he gave us a bunch of family games. One is called "Would you rather.?" and is filled with stupid scenarios. For example: Would you rather eat toe jam or your neighbors ear wax? Would you rather let a spider crawl over your face or eat a whole banana peel? Needless to say, it is good old roll your eyes fun!

I haven't allowed my kids to get it out since he died, and I'm not sure the reason. I guess the same reason I am holding onto everything so tight- it's the last I have of him, forever. I can't bear to allow anything to happen to the things I am holding on so tight to! They are the last strand, the last morsel of closeness to my dad that I have. Something tangible. If they are ruined, misplaced or lost, I will never have a chance to get them back, just like I'll never have a chance to get my dad back.

This holiday season, we are working not to ask the "whys", but instead, "Would you rather make a difference in the world around you? Or sit and constantly allow your own sorrow to drown any potential for making someone else's life better.

I failed my dad by not seeing his pain for what it was. This Christmas, I'm taking the eyes off me and looking at those less likely to be seen around me.

Yes indeed, it is good when you truly obey the Lord's command; you must love and care for your neighbor just as much as you love and take care of yourself. James 2:8

Band Aids

With a 4 yr old in the house, band-aids are very important and are everywhere. Every bump bruise, cut and scrape is magically healed once a band-aid is applied. Ice doesn't matter, kisses from mommy don't matter, healing balm doesn't matter, the shrieking wail of an ouchie can be healed instantly only with band-aids.

After 4 kids I have learned the utter importance of these tiny, sticky things. Sure, these things become slightly annoying when they are peeled off 5 minutes after the injury and stuck to the floor... or the wall..... or the chair. But they served their purpose and they served it well- to end the tears and sadness.

Once when my son was little, getting ready to turn 4, my dad called to ask some ideas for a birthday present. I rattled off the standard things my boy liked: cars, dinosaurs, Buzz Lightyear, and ended the list with Band-aids.

The birthday party came and when my son opened his gift from his grandpa- guess what was inside? Yup, several boxes of band-aids! My little guy was thrilled, and had their been a prize for strangest gift ever, my dad would have won that prize.

This memory gets brought up quiet a bit in our home, since band-aids are a normal part of our daily routine still. We all laugh, and it's a good memory.

I also can't help but to relate this to my daily walk now. As an adult, I'm not as daring as a child. I'm not out getting scrapes, bumps or bruises physically (If I can help it!) My soul and spirit however get wounded everyday. A harsh word. Something doesn't happen as I wish it had. Mommy guilt. One of my children making bad choices and disappointing me. An unexpected tragedy. Yes, bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes happen every single day. Some are much worse than others. Some feel like they slice right through to the heart. Others hurt for a moment, but will be forgotten as quickly as they came.

All of them need something more than a little band-aid. I don't know about you, but I have lots of places to draw out my band-aids for my wounded heart. Starbucks, shopping, a little glass of wine, a hot bath, friends, to name a few. None of these things are bad in themselves. The danger lies in my relying on them to heal my wound. I need to look beyond what makes me feel better in the moment, and trust God and His word to seep in and heal. God's healing is powerful and forever. He's calling out to me, reaching out to me, desiring to do more than place a sticky thing to cover my wound. The first step in the healing power of God? Rejoicing in all circumstances.

1 Peter 4:12-13 says "Don't be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering.. but rejoice."

If we are able to rejoice in all our wounds, we are fully trusting God to heal them. Philippians 4:7 promises " a peace that passes all understanding."

God calls us to his healing power. The Bible is full of God's amazing healing. As I sit hurting today, sad over a death that I had no power over, I am leaning on the healing power of my God- not a silly band-aid.

Lord my God I called to you for help and you healed me. Psalm 30:2

Heal me O Lord and I will be healed, save me and I will be saved, for You are the One I praise- Jeremiah 17:14

New addition

It's now been 4 months since my father's suicide. I wish I could say that life has returned to normal, but instead, his choice of death has marred our daily lives.

We had hoped to cushion our children from the blow, with daily prayer, speaking to them about grandpa Dale, sharing memories, we really thought that they could go on not being scarred. Boy were we wrong! Weekly calls from the principal, dealing with late, and unfinished work everyday, and acting out in ways we didn't think were possible, has littered our lives since school began. Granted, this is all coming from our 12 yr old, and that's a tough age as is, but he was the closest to grandpa Dale- and he is struggling to make sense of it all just like the rest of us left behind.

As a mom, it breaks my heart to see my children hurting, and I toss back and forth between being angry and frustrated that my father didn't think about the damage he left behind for his grandchildren to deal with. Despite our best parenting efforts, there will be scars left behind that will help shape their future lives ahead.

Last week, we decided that perhaps we needed an addition to our family, and I thought it would be great if we could save a life at the same time. We headed out to the local animal control where we picked our new found friend.

We needed to return home and wait for a few more days since she wasn't quite old enough to come home. The days seemed like years as we all anticipated bringing her home!

Finally the day came for us to pick her up. Armed with a bubblegum pink carrier, a purple fuzzy blanket and feathery toy propped inside, we walked through the doors to bring our baby kitty home.

She went nameless for a few days, and after much discussion, we came to an agreement- Simkah a Hebrew word meaning "God's gladness or God's joy". Already she has helped restore some joy into my heart which has been far too often filled with tears and sorrow, she has helped restore laughter and playing to our home ... as one friend called her, "our healing kitty".

The day that I was behind the wheel bring her home I was overcome with a clash of emotion: I had just saved this tiny little thing from certain death, I saved a life! That was the joy part. The other side of that was extreme sadness and guilt that I could save this life but I couldn't save my father. I realized in that moment with tears streaming down my face that I need to live everyday as if it is my last. I've been set back the last few months, having a hard time coping or dealing with everything around me, but God promises restoration to me and to my children. He is big enough to do it in one breath, yet he loves to use people and things around us to help touch our lives. Our new little addition is a gentle reminder that God wants to restore and loves to rebuild.... and that He is indeed, still in control.

Jeremiah 33:6 "Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and let them enjoy abundant peace and security. I will bring Judah and Israel back from captivity, and will rebuild them as they were before. I will cleanse them from all the sin they have committed against me and will cleanse them of all their sins of rebellion against me. Then this city will bring me renown, joy, praise and honor before all nations on Earth that hear of all the good things I do for it; and they will be in awe and tremble at the abundant prosperity and peace I provide for it."

Meat Box

We have had lots of distractions lately. Lots of visitors, and after school activities. I relish in the business, without I think I would go crazy! It's been so healing and great to see friends from long ago, to have family here to visit, and to see my kids enjoying life in the new normal.

I have one child not doing so well these days. I guess we were fools to think that our kids would get through this grief without setbacks. We're praying like mad, and hoping God opens the floodgates and showers goodness down on this blessed kid!

I try to talk to my kids about good memories of grandpa. One such memory came up- I call it the meat box. I'll give a little background: You see, I was living on my own, at age 17, with my boyfriend. I was a strict vegetarian, and by that, I mean that I was the person shouting "Meat is Murder!!" in the hallway at school, the one boycotting Proctor and Gamble for their horrible practice of testing on animals. Passing out fliers to educate anyone who would listen, and working at Pizza Hut, gagging anytime a person ordered pepperoni or sausage.

It was winter, Christmas to be exact, and I was thrilled when the UPS man knocked on my door to deliver a giant brown box. I was baffled as to who would have sent me such an enormous and heavy box. The return label had only a company name I didn't recognize. Of course, I tore into the mystery package as quickly as I could! Cutting through the tape, pulling out the packing paper. The box was very cold, but I didn't think anything of it as it was just as frigid in Northern Utah in the winter. What I saw next mortified me- a headless, featherless turkey peeked out. 2 packages of bacon (which translated into dead pigs for me). A huge sausage roll. Various forms of meat, meat and more meat! I was flabbergasted. Who would have sent such an awful thing to me? I hunted until I found a form. Typed at the bottom of the order, it said "Merry Christmas! I love you-Dad".

I was so speechless and so angry. I wanted to take and throw it all away- dump it in the road and run it over (instead I think we gave it all away to various friends to consume.) When I spoke to him later to thank him, I asked why he sent something that I saw as so offensive, his response? I needed to eat more (and better) and he loved smoked turkey so he thought I would too. (See picture above as evidence for his case against my poor lifestyle- this was taken shortly after my meat box arrived.)

Many times in life we just want people to get us. Misunderstandings cause monumental damage in the relationships of our lives. We want to be known, and to know. We want others to care about us and what we care about. It's the way we were created- for relationship. I regret allowing too many misunderstanding hurt me and in turn hurt my relationship with my dad.

"If God is in the throne of our hearts and in control of our lives, then all our human relationships will be positively affected.... instead of looking at our relationships for what we can take from others, we will begin to see relationships in light of what we can give. Finding our own deepest need met in our relationship with God, we will be free to be used by Him to meet the needs in others." -Eddie Rasnake, Author of the following God series

3 Month mark

It has now been 3 months since my father died. It doesn't seem like a big number, but the reality is that it seems like a lifetime ago. Our family was struck with a 2nd tragedy with the death of my husband's aunt a couple of weeks ago. Talk about a rough summer. She passed away after a year long battle with pancreatic cancer. She left behind a family who loves her, people who's lives she invested heavily in, and some very young grand children. Her funeral was awesome, she loved Jesus and spent her life giving Him glory, and her memorial was no different.
I know God didn't allow both of these deaths by chance, both so different yet the grief has so many similarities.... and both deaths have something to teach my kids. It doesn't make either one of these losses hurt less. I couldn't help by wonder why God has now allowed my husband, to grieve a loss at the same time that I am hurting.

I have noticed that every month, right around the 23rd, I become very emotional. Most times I haven't even mentally known the date, but my heart must know, and with each passing month my loss becomes more and more real. We had family visiting us at the 3 month mark, and boy did it make a difference! It was great for me to be surrounded by people when this hard day came and went. I had other things to laugh and smile about, and was again reminded that God has placed people in our lives who do love us.

A cousin, mourning his dear mama, made the statement "Everything around reminds me of her. I think of her every second of everyday." It's strange how the loss of someone you love brings so many parts of your life that they touched, to the surface. Like abrasive sandpaper, the memories come out and start sanding down, leaving only the dust of dried tears behind. It's also amazing to me how much my mind has attempted to lesson the blow. Just the other day the movie Cannonball Run was on Tv, everyone was enjoying it, I remembered how much my dad liked it (and movies with similar humor), and for a split second, the thought came that I needed to call and talk to him about it. It would be a pleasant conversation! Reality quickly smacked my in the forehead: there would be no phone call, no discussion on the humor of this show, my dad is gone.

My grief is lessened a bit when I can hold on to this truth: If we allow, God can "cut and dress" us, allowing nothing to be wasted that happens in our lives, but using everything for the glory of the God who loves us beyond our comprehension. Do I trust Him?

1Peter 1:6-7 "In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor, at the revelation of Jesus Christ."