I walk a fine line between
gratefulness- no more surgeries, sticks, infections, meds, or dialysis,
sadness- she is so very gone and her huge presence in my life can do nothing but leave a gigantic hole in my daily living by it's absence, and lastly
brokeness- all of her pain, confusion, limitedness that I could do nothing about.
My heart's desire is that I will see the day when gratefulness wins, but today is not that day. I can't rest because the hurtful parts float to the surface and drown me in tears. Yet, I can't accomplish anything because I can't put two thoughts together without a painful memory interrupting me. I can't turn my work over to someone else because I've never learned how. I feel useless and drifting in this grief sea.
Ol' Mother Hubbard did an amazing making the situation all it could be.
Our pastor friends, all three of them, who came to the hospital, funeral home, led, spoke, prayed, could have done not a thing more to show their love and support of our family.
A pastor friend who sang her most favorite songs would have brought a huge smile to her face.
She loved flowers and they were so very beautiful.
The many friends who worked for days to organize and keep this big group fed were amazing.
The special ones who hung around the whole entire time, just to show support-such love.
A fountain coke on the morning of, a special CD for the long drive to the cemetery, copies of pictures of our family in happier times to pass around, a warm dinner and pretty flowers delivered to my house. Even cooking seems more than I can manage.
Little curly tops who fold into their Gramerly with a squeeze comforts like nothing I know.
A sibling who expects and embraces an hysterical moment.
Kind words when you've tried so hard to impress your love of her and value through a eulogy.
A classroom of fourth graders, their parents and a school community who rallies round and sends love swirling in a sea of hugs, notes, gift cards, visits, plants and work.
The friends who knew her value to me and acknowledged it in a visit, or card or phone call.
Cousins who came from near and far.
For the rain holding off.
For the hairdresser/family/friend who knows the importance to me of February hair on this day.
For my handy man, who quietly in strength, stands by my side and rides these waves of grief like it is his job.
The Word, where I find comfort.
Each and everything precious and treasured in my broken heart.
And so, perhaps another last, a post, wearing the label "Kaye." So sad.