The Talk I Would Have Given

 Some time ago I found myself in front of a laptop and no immediate task to accomplish on it, so after my usual web surfing I decided to jot some thoughts down about my mom.  This is a conglomeration of that day, and several others, leading up to all the times where I wrote at least something down of what I was thinking or feeling at those times.  It has only been two days since my mom’s funeral and I felt I needed to put something to digital memory before it escapes my ability to do so.  The house is quiet, the well-wishers have returned home, the bustling has died down, the flowers sit quietly beautiful, and I am left alone with my thoughts.    

At one time I thought these thoughts might be useful to compose a talk for a later occasion.  Obviously, now that she’s gone, and I didn’t speak at her funeral, they’ll just have to remain in the form of a journal entry.  Before anyone wonders why I didn’t speak, I wanted to open up that opportunity to her grandchildren first, since I would already be dedicating the grave.  She also only has one sibling whose health wouldn’t hamper his ability to speak at her funeral service, and I think we needed him to.

I held it together pretty well on the day of her funeral – only getting choked up a few times, and none of them when I was speaking to anyone, or asked to say a few words.  I was telling everyone I’d likely have a meltdown after everything was over – and I’m pretty sure I still will, but now I’m thinking it’ll happen when I’m not expecting it.  Grief is a strange thing.  I was trying so hard to make it through the day without breaking down that I fear I might have buried it too deeply.  

Crying is not a lack of character or sign of weakness, so why was I burying it?  I wish I had an answer.  I had family there for the minutia of choosing the casket, the music, arranging the program and the like, so why did I bury it at those times?  Was I trying to act tough, like it didn’t affect me?  That can’t possibly be it.  Anybody that knows me knows I’m not a tough guy.  The only conclusion I could come up with that made any sort of sense is that the heart and the head almost never agree on how to process grief.  I learned that from when my dad passed.  “Bittersweet” was the word I used when describing his passing, and I think it works just as well here as it did there.

At my dad’s funeral his brother (my uncle Kevin) gave what I considered to be the best talk of the day.  The following is borrowed heavily from him, only changing a few sections for brevity, and to remind myself that I'm referring to mom instead of dad.

He gave a quote from the novel Daniel Deronda by George Eliot.  In it, there’s a four line eulogy for Mordecai which says:

“Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness no contempt, Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.”

There are indeed, at times things here for tears.  I have shed tears.  Funerals and tears go together naturally.  John, chapter 11 has a two word verse:  “Jesus wept”, referring to the Saviors reaction to the death of his friend Lazarus.

When we think of our personal loss of never being able to be around Joan at her best again in this life, it is indeed bitter, and there are things there for tears.  If, on the other hand, we think about Joan passing into paradise, being welcomed by the love of her life, Terry, and her parents, and others who knew and loved her in this life, that is sweet, a sweet experience, and there is nothing there for tears, except they be tears of joy.

Mom had been suffering from pain (usually in the form of arthritis) since her early to mid 20’s, but I truly believe that unless she was in massive amounts of pain, she kept pretty silent to the point where we didn’t know she was hurting as bad as she was.

Physically she was probably weaker and more frail than most anyone you’d be likely to meet.  In every other way that could be used as a commentary on strength, there were probably few stronger.

I’m not going to lie.  I cursed God more than once during her long goodbye, but I had to step back and try to come up with a reason that she was either not healed, or taken from us sooner.  My belief is that I needed to learn more empathy.  There were times that I became angry with her, and everyday I wish that I could go back and do those days over.  My hope is that she knew I loved her fiercely, even with all my many, many shortcomings.  I can’t tell you how many times I think about what it will be like to see her again when she takes me in her arms and gives me a hug, and tells me that it’s ok, and that she loves me.

… and now I’m crying.

The Last Few Months Have Been A Royal Something

 The last few months have been a royal something.  I’ve learned a few things about myself during that time, and various life-isms that happen to you, as John Lennon wrote, while you’re busy making other plans.  My purpose in sharing them here is not because I believe anyone would necessarily benefit from anything I have to say (although if anyone does, I’ll consider that a bonus), but because I find it cathartic.  I say that a lot, but it’s true.  I think I say that every time before I post anything of meaning to me.  I won’t go into detail about what happened.  Within my circle there are probably very few, if any, that don’t already know the events in question.  This is more about my reaction, and praise for the people that came to our aid.

There is a superstition that states that bad things happen in threes.  I have no idea where that started, but if that’s true, we should be safe for a while.  I’m not a superstitious person though, so if something bad is going to happen, it’s going to happen.  I don’t wax spiritual very often in these things, but Matthew 5:45 says, “That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven:  for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.”  The poor choices of one can affect many, so much of life’s difficulties are not necessarily of our own making, so by that logic alone (even though I know that’s not the only factor), bad things will happen to good people.  

I admit, I’ve had it relatively easy in the life-crisis department.  My first real experiences with death were at times that I didn’t understand the concept.  I was 45 when it hit a bit closer to home with my father.  I don’t know who gets credit for the sentiment, but it’s said that we will never be given more than we can handle.  I’ve heard views of agreement, and views of dissent on this.  While I tend to believe it, I can see why others would disagree.  My faith has been a life buoy more than once.  I know there are those who believe faith is nothing more than a crutch, but I’d rather have a crutch to help me get around until I heal, than hobbling around on a bloody stump that will never be whole again.

Over the last couple of months, our personal crutches, buoys, life preservers, and what have you, have been the people around us.  The help ranged from the simple things, like an invitation to lunch, to the more involved, like making sure we knew we could call on them for help, and knowing they weren’t just voicing a base platitude.  Nothing went unnoticed.

Brigham Young once said something along the lines of, the biggest sin that we, as members of the Church (speaking obviously of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) are guilty of, is that of ingratitude.  It’s easy to be thankful when things are going relatively well.  It’s when life’s clouds are dark and gathering that we tend to ask, “why me”.  Psychologically, it’s easy to fall into that trap.  Being grateful for the good things during a trying time is a difficult task.  Remembering to give thanks, even if it’s only in your heart, is important.

It’s also important to let others help.  I know from personal experience that accepting help feels awkward.  Nobody really likes being on the receiving end because you feel like a burden.  In my case, accepting help made me feel less than capable of dealing with something on my own.  But accepting help (while sometimes slightly damaging to ones pride) is a way to bless those who want to give it.

Elder Robert D. Hales said in the October 1975 general conference that Latter-day Saints need each other (I include all my loved ones in this sentiment, not just church members). “The gospel plan requires giving and receiving. Faith alone is not enough. We need ‘works’ to serve and to be served. We can’t do it alone. …

“Why then do many of us ‘go it alone’ and deny those who love us most the joy and blessings which come from sharing? …

“When you attempt to live life’s experiences alone, you are not being true to yourself, nor to your basic mission in life. Individuals in difficulty often say: ‘I’ll do it alone,’ ‘Leave me alone,’ ‘I don’t need you,’ ‘I can take care of myself.’ It has been said that no one is so rich that he does not need another’s help, no one so poor as not to be useful in some way to his fellowman. The disposition to ask assistance from others with confidence, and to grant it with kindness, should be part of our very nature” (“We Can’t Do It Alone”).

President Thomas S. Monson said, during his October 1989 general conference address, that the Lord’s service requires both a giver and a receiver.

I thank any and all of you who have given any sort of service to us during our personal storm.  I would go through name by name but I’m always afraid I would leave someone out and that’s an insult I don’t wish to cast on anyone.  If you played any part in easing our burden, may the Lord bless you.