Time...

Eleven months... It really doesn't matter how you break down the time. It's irrelevant anyways. It doesn't matter how long a loved one has been gone, they are still "gone." I'm no stranger to grief. I know how it works. On some level, grief has been my constant companion since October 26, 1996 - the day Jimmy died.

Since that day, the onslaught of loss has been relentless. Slowly. One after the other. Gone. Since 1996... The loss of both parents, both siblings, three grandparents, two aunts, three uncles, and two cousins.

It's almost numbing... almost. I've planned funerals, gone to funerals, even blocked out a few funerals. I've laughed over these people, cried over these people, and released these people.

There is not one loved one I've lost that I would ask to come back. I miss them desperately.

I'm thankful for a God who saves. I'm thankful that I will see them again; hear them again; talk to them again; walk with them again. I'm thankful that I do not grieve as those who have no hope.

1 Thessalonians 4:13

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.

Changes

As of Friday, I have lost 96 lbs. That's significant. I made the comment the other day that mother would be proud of me. She wanted so desperately for me to lose weight. She worried about my health. Clearly more than she worried about her own. So, it would be nice if she could see the changes. However, if she were here, this likely would not have happened.

Her death was part of the catalyst that began the change. However, the beginning changes were internal; emotional. They had to manifest before any physical changes could take place.

For most of my life, I've had a love/hate relationship with food. On the one hand, I loved food. Eating was fabulous. Eating allowed me to not deal with any real emotion. On the other hand, food was the enemy. I hated the way eating may me feel and how it made me look.

What I failed to realize all those years - even after years of therapy for different stuff - was I didn't have a food issue at all. I had a heart issue - and I'm not talking coronary artery disease. I was completely shut down. I didn't want to feel any emotion. Emotions were painful and couldn't be trusted.

God began a work in me - a very painful work in me - roughly eight years ago. I had "stuff" to deal with. Real, painful stuff. That initial change allowed God to bring Johnny into my life. That initial change and Johnny were preparation for more change.

I was beginning to feel again. A scary process but a needed process. Changes continued. Life happened. Pregnancy, raising babies, terminal illness. They all slammed into us seemingly at once like a tidal wave. So many times it would've been easier to shut down. I hung in there.

Deep down inside, I knew that this 2nd battle with lung cancer would be mom's last. I began "preparing" myself for the inevitable loss. The hours leading up to her death, I had multiple internal conversations with myself. I knew that I would have to purposefully grieve her. I knew I could NOT let myself shut down. Within days I sought out a trusted christian friend for counseling.

And so it began. Little by little, I let this go and that go. I strengthened my walk with God. I strengthened my relationship with Johnny. I strengthened relationships that would ultimately see me through this long road called life.

As I sat in my living room right after Thanksgiving, I pondered all that I had been through and all that God had given me. I had been a caregiver for one person or another all of my life. Clearly with the toddler in the back room, that wasn't going to end anytime soon.

It was time to go big or go home. Embrace where I was or squander my life away. Did I "want" Johnny to be my caregiver? No. Was it fair for Bella to be my caregiver? No. Especially if my issues were fixable before they became issues.

Ultimately I had to be mother's caregiver because she didn't take care of herself. I'm not angry or resentful of that fact but it's a true fact. It wouldn't be right for me to neglect caring for myself and making others responsible for my care down the road.

So I made the decision in November that I would change my life. I wasn't going on a diet for awhile. I wasn't going to exercise for awhile. I had to change my life. So I made a conscious decision that the Monday after Christmas, Susan would change. And I did. Was it easy in the beginning? No. Did I like it? No. Did I know it was necessary? Yes.

My relationship with food has changed. There's no hate now. Only love. I love how good food makes me feel. I love how it nourishes my body. I love that food is no longer a crutch.

I still struggle with my outward appearance. I have difficulty seeing what others see. I take that to God. Only God can change my vision. Instead of looking at my body for change, I look at the other stuff. My stamina; the things I can do now that I couldn't do before; I can play with Bella all day; I can breathe better; and today I fit into the "normal" gown at the doctor's office.

Life is full of change. Change is the only real constant we face. I thank God that He began a change in me all those years ago. Ultimately that change led me to today. That change will lead me to my goal. That change led me to life.

Mother's Day

You start to think at some point that you've got this grief thing down. You've made it through the vast majority of your "firsts." You know most of your triggers. Certain songs don't make you cry anymore. You can look at pictures and giggle instead of cry.

Then, it sneaks right up on you all over again. My first father's day without my dad was rough. Really, really rough. It doesn't hurt nearly as bad now. I've refocused myself. I pay tribute to the other "fathers" in my life and that helps.

I'm just really not looking forward to mother's day. I've been a mom for 22 years but mother's day has just never really been about me. I'm okay with that. I always tried to make it a big deal for my mom though. Especially once it was just her and me.

And now here we are. Mother's day is two weeks away. All the signs in the store. All the pink stuff advertising mom. All the commercials about mom. But...there's no mom. It's hard to fathom not buying her anymore mother's day cards or gifts. Not seeing her on that day.

This will be the hardest one. I know this. Then I will shift my focus to the other mothers in my life. And once we make it through mother's day, "I" will only have two more firsts. Bella's birthday and the anniversary of her death.

This is my first full year of every new memory not including my mom. Sometimes these things just hurt more than others.

Time Marches On

Yesterday marked eight months that mom's been gone. Sometimes it seems like yesterday. Sometimes it seems like it's been years. Sometimes it hurts like nothing I've ever felt. Sometimes I feel nothing at all.

I think we expect grief to be large and looming. An event that will overtake us and consume us if we aren't careful. I think we feel that way because the "beginning" of grief is so raw. We don't know how to act or feel when grief comes. So it becomes something that we're afraid of dealing with. Grief scares the person grieving and it scares those around them.

It shouldn't. At some point in our lives, we will all grieve something huge. A spouse, a parent, a child, etc. However, if we pay attention, life gives us the opportunity to learn how to grieve before the "big one" comes. Perhaps we moved away from friends, lost a pet, lost a job, maybe divorced. They all require grieving on a different scale.

While I absolutely ABHOR the term "new normal" after a death, it really is mostly true. Your life will again reach normalcy. It'll just always be different. We don't want to accept it but we have to accept reality for what it is.

I've learned that when the feelings come, when the emotions wash over me, the easiest way to move on is to acknowledge the fact they're there. Grief is never-ending, always changing, and life-altering. With the right mindset and the desire to continue down the road God desires us to walk, grief does not have to be debilitating. It just has to be acknowledged.

Because, That's Why

You don't do the Easter bunny? No, we don't. Here's why...

I wasn't neglected as a child. I promise. The Easter bunny came to our house every year without fail. We all got new outfits. We were all in church Easter morning.

I'm a different type of parent. I struggle with all the childhood fairytale stuff. Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, the Tooth Fairy. Maybe it's because I suck at lying. I do know I was the WORST Tooth Fairy in the world when Gabby was little. I was better at Santa. However, there never was, nor will there ever be, an Easter bunny that comes to my house.

Don't get me wrong. I cave in to adult peer pressure. Gabby always got a little something. Bella will always get a little something. However, Gabby knew and Bella will know it's from us. There's also no magical search for the perfect Easter outfit at our house. Appropriate church clothes are already here.

For me, it is important that my children never associate a made up character with one of the most important events in our christian walk...the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. (Please bear in mind that I struggle deeply with Santa Claus). For me, I simply cannot equate a made up bunny with the supreme sacrifice that God's only Son made for me.

I promise, Gabby is not traumatized by no Easter bunny nor will Bella be traumatized by no Easter bunny. As individual families, we choose what is important to us. For us, this is important. I choose to respect whatever choice any other family makes. This is just the best choice for ours. 💗

The Struggle is Real

I like transparency. I like it in myself. I like it in those around me. Wearing a mask is easy. Being real is hard. Sometimes christians are made to feel like they lack faith if they struggle. The Bible says we will struggle. So...let me be a little transparent.

Four years ago this month, I was getting ready to embark on a new journey. 2011 was going to be my year. I was turning 40. My daughter was turning 18 and graduating high school. I was going to be "done" with all that kid stuff. I was getting ready to marry the man of my dreams.

We were going to be empty nesters. We had plans. So many plans. Go there. Do this. Vacations. Weekends alone. Newlywed marital bliss. (You can stop laughing now.)

The next year, 2012, ushered in a very long, very emotional season of struggle. In the beginning, there was always the thought "it can't get any worse." We were wrong.

First came issue after issue with the adult child. Then the announcement of an unplanned pregnancy. On the hills of the pregnancy announcement I was dealing with a health scare. In July of 2013, a little bundle of love was born. Within a couple short months, grandparents were full time parents. Where was that idyllic newlywed life we had just been dreaming about. Sorry, we're not quite done with issues yet. The end of 2013 finds us with mother sick and unable to get "well." We'll just fast forward through the details to get to the diagnosis - lung cancer, again. Surgery, recovery, treatments, sickness, and ultimately in August of 2014, her death. In the midst of this are two weary people raising a baby that literally haven't slept a full night in over a year. This is not the environment in which marriages thrive. However, the committed ones hang on for dear life.

Have I had questions? Sure. At times. However, several things see me through. First, I am convinced that God has a plan for my life that is bigger than my own. I have to trust Him. Second, I don't blame God. We simply live in a fallen world. Crap happens and sometimes it just really sucks. Third, I firmly believe that everything that "happens to me" is filtered through the hands of God.

You see, there are many seasons of life. Sometimes they're hard. Sometimes they last a really long time. We will get through them. With God's help we'll be stronger and He'll be glorified.

I find myself in a place of emerging on the other side. There's light at the end of the tunnel and it's not an oncoming train. My mom is in a much better place - no more pain. No more suffering. The baby is well and sleeping. A marriage that was holding on for dear life is finding a way to blossom in the middle of the weeds.

How is this even possible? Because we never gave up hope in each other and we never gave up on God. Believe it or not, I'm thankful for that season of struggle.  We have been blessed with gifts we didn't even know we needed. We were given the gift of time with mother. We have proven to each other that despite less than ideal circumstances we will not let go of each other.

Yes, the struggles are real. So is God. So are the blessings that we so often fail to acknowledge. Sometimes the rainbow doesn't come after the rain is finished. Sometimes the rainbow is right there in the clouds in the midst of the storm. You just have to be watching for it.

True Love

No matter what the relationship, true love involves sacrifice. Sometimes a lot of sacrifice. True love is not a warm, fuzzy feeling. True love involves work.

You "fall" in love and get married. Your new husband's job requires a move four states away. Your family lives here. You don't send him alone. You sacrifice to be with him. You want to finish school but you can't work and do school. So your husband takes on another job despite his weariness. He sacrifices rest to help you finish school. Through financial issues, moving, children, in-laws, etc. you sacrifice things to make your marriage work. You sacrifice because you love.

You have children. You sacrifice sleep to rock them and feed them. You sacrifice things you want so they have what they need. You maybe even sacrifice jobs or friendships to make them a priority. Sometimes as parents we sacrifice the last piece of dessert - because they want it. Daily hygiene - because by the time we have time we've forgotten we needed to brush our teeth. Sometimes we feel like we're sacrificing our sanity. But it's worth it. We love these little people. So much so that we'll do almost anything to take care of them.

Caring for a dying family member whom you love requires sacrifice. However, it's not a singular sacrifice. My nephew was my helper, my go to, my confidant in arms as we cared for my mom. But it wasn't just our sacrifice. Our families took on that sacrifice as well. We drug along spouses and children into the fray. They gave up time with us. They sacrificed normal days and normal nights. They took care of children alone. They shared in shuttling her to appointments. They bore are anger, pain, and grief.

Sacrificing sometimes comes easily. Sometimes not so much. I was a reluctant caregiver. It wasn't a role I wanted. Not because I didn't love her. It was because facing that sucked. I wasn't a perfect caregiver but I was adequate. I was enough. She told me so. 😊

There were times I was angry, impatient, and less than. I loved her anyways. She loved me. I saw her at her worst; her weakest; her sickest. Although I fell short I'm sure, at her worst, she felt like she was seeing me at my best. When you watch a parent lose their hair, it's painful. When you watch a parent lose some of their dignity, it's painful. When you watch a parent be called home, painful no longer becomes an adequate word to use.

But I'm grateful! Grateful I was there. Grateful that I sacrificed my time. Grateful that I had that time. Grateful that we got to laugh and be silly through the pain. Grateful that I was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand as she was called home. True love requires sacrifice. Sacrifice isn't always easy. In the long run, it's always worth it.