August 31, 2018
It is 2:45 am and we are sharing the road mostly with
overnight truckers. I get nervous when I
see a truck go over the line and hear the rumble of the tires on the warning
strips. I wonder how many hours they
have been driving and when they will get to rest. I think about how I would much rather be in
my bed, safe at home than on the interstate.
I am thankful that I don’t have to drive and that Mike is so willing and
capable to drive this long distance. I
used to love to drive and didn’t mind long trips by myself but not
anymore. I would rather be in the
passenger’s seat if I have to be away but mostly I would just rather be at
home. This trip is necessary although
not something I want to do. Nan’s house
has sold and we are closing on it today.
We have a six-hour drive, then the meeting to close on the house, and
then we will have a little more than 24 hours to hold an estate sale, move what
we need to move afterwards, and vacate by 4 pm on Saturday. I struggled with the abruptness of these
plans. We were supposed to have until
Tuesday of next week, but the buyers started pressuring to get in this weekend
and the decision was made to accommodate them.
I was angry at their lack of consideration for our situation and their
lack of understanding regarding what it will take for us to make this
happen. Mostly, I am saddened at the
thought of taking the things that were so important to my grandmother, dividing
them up, making the decisions about what to keep and what must go, and watching
so many of the things that were important to her disappear into the hands of
people we don’t know and who will only be happy that they got a good deal on a
material item. This is a part of life
for which one has to show up and do their part as the next of kin. I hate it and never expected it to be like
this. I thought Grandma, Jimmy and I
would make this decision together or that she would be gone before this
decision had to be made. We don’t get to
choose how the details of life work themselves out. We only get to choose our attitude and
whether or not we will be open to the lessons that life tries to teach us. I am trying to balance the natural feelings
of pain, disappointment and grief with having the right attitude. By the time the miles have slipped by and we
have arrived to the task at hand, I will do what I need to do and I will let go
of the hurt I feel toward those young people buying her house who don’t have a
clue that their excitement over their new home is the exact opposite feeling of
those signing the paperwork that
releases that home to their ownership and care.
Maybe, before the rest of the
trip is over I can sleep a bit. I really
need the rest to face the day.
We are still in a rental vehicle. We are now into the fourth month of letting
our Ford Edge sit in the driveway as we wait for the company to come up with
enough parts to take care of the thousands of individuals, like us, whose cars
are under a recall. It is nice to have a
car to drive and that we don’t have to pay the rental fees, but they require us
to return every 30 days to do the paperwork all over again. We usually try to coordinate our rental
renewal with other business because we have to drive a three hour round trip
and lose half a day but this time, we let it slip up on us and were caught off
guard. We had to make a special trip
just to take care of the business at hand with the rental yesterday. The rest of the day was spent getting things
ready so we could leave at midnight to go to Georgia.
The early part of the week was mostly routine for me, caring
for the animals, milking, cleaning house, cooking, making cheese, and assisting
Mike when needed, not that he needed much assistance this week. Mostly he has been working on restoring
another building. He has debated and
debated as to whether we should try to save an old, large production chicken
house probably built in the 1960’s. The
building, structurally is not in the best of shape, but he felt like it could
be salvaged and would make a good storage area for round bales of hay,
equipment and maybe even part of it used as a loafing shed for the cattle. He’s been working several weeks just to get
the area cleaned up. There was a large tree that had fallen on one corner of the
building. Another tree was compromising
the structure. He pushed back a lot of
dirt that had eroded off the bank next to the building and was pushing against
the structure. Inside, he cleaned out
mountains of trash. When restored, the
building won’t be perfect but it should provide plenty of storage for the rest
of our lives. We made a trip into Floyd
to pick up load of metal roofing for the building. The roof will match the barn roof and
eventually, he hopes to put board and batting on the outside so the building
will look similar to the barn. The old
building is such an eye sore and we discussed knocking it down and cleaning up
the area but hated to lose that potential space for storage. It is quite an undertaking, but it will be
really nice when it is finished. For a
mere fraction of what it would cost to construct a new building, we will have a
decent shelter in place.
September 9, 2018
I have been unable to write.
I would like to make the excuse that I have not had time, and while I
have been very busy, that would just be an excuse. The reality is that the last two weeks have
been so emotional for me that I just have not been able to wrap my head around
things, sit down and recount all that has transpired. Part of me wants to get down every detail,
because that is the writer in me. The
other part of me wants to just make it go away and forget all about it. Truth is, I will never forget about it. So many things transpired during the closing
on the sell of Nan’s house that I left the attorney’s office just shaking my
head. I shared those things with a few
close friends but I am not even going to mention them in this journal. It doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that which we needed to
do is done and was done to the best of our ability. And there are a lot of things I would like to
say to those who have dared to think that Jimmy and I will take the money from
the sell of Nan’s house and try to make it our own but again, the stupidity of
people does not even need acknowledgement.
The facts. Just the facts. The fact is Nan needs constant care and such
that we are not able to physically meet her needs. The fact is that we cannot afford to keep her
house, pay the utilities and pay for upkeep knowing she will never return
there. Fact is we could have just signed
the house and belongings over to the nursing home but we just couldn’t do
that. Just walking away from her house
seemed so impersonal, heartbreaking and not the right thing to do, leaving the
things that meant so much to her by walking away from them. So, we went through the task of listing the
house, selling the house, sorting and selling her belongings and putting that
money in an account to continue private pay for the nursing home until that
money runs out. By my calculations, I
figure we have about six months and the money will all be gone. Every penny will be spent to pay for Nan’s
care and it will be gone in such a short amount of time. It only makes me sad because it was not what
she wanted. She said over and over again
that she wanted us to be able to sell the house and split the money three ways
between Jimmy, Alissa and myself. We
always told her that we would do what we needed to do to take care of her first
and foremost and that the material possessions didn’t matter to us. Well, that is what we have done to the best
of our ability. It was
heartbreaking. It was physically
exhausting. In 47 hours time we drove
1000 miles round trip and cleaned out a house full of furniture, had an estate
sale, and closed on the house. But, it
is done and we know in our hearts we did the best we could. I was able to see Nan twice while we were
there. One was short visit per her
request. She was excited to see us but
she struggles with her emotions and she was tired after about 20 minutes. She told us she was ready for us to
leave. The second visit, she got tired,
but she knew when we left that we wouldn’t be back for a while so she hung
on. When I asked her if she wanted us to
leave, she replied “I never want you to leave.
I want to keep you here forever and ever.” She is frail and needs constants assistance
but was in fact better than some of our previous visits. She was eating well, alert, and able to look
at pictures with me. We had good
conversation. I was able to love on her,
kiss her face, and tell her how much she means to me knowing that she
understood. Leaving was hard. She got very emotional and the nurse had to
help her deep breathe to calm down. We
slipped out as the nurse began getting her relax a bit, big, hot tears running
down my own face. Typically, I sleep in
the car when we drive any distance at all, but I couldn’t sleep. In fact, it was a couple of days before I
could sleep more than just a few hours.
There was so much adrenaline from pushing ourselves to accomplish such a
large task in such a short period of time, and there were so many emotions that
wouldn’t allow me to calm down and rest.
When I did finally crash, I slept for nine hours but it still didn’t
feel like enough. It took me several
days to recuperate emotionally and physically.
I texted my brother when we got back and told him that I was so very
thankful that we were able to do what we needed to do and be on the same
page. I see so many other families
fighting among themselves for various reasons at times when they should be
drawing close together. It is so easy to
let the stress of difficult times, our own ideas and agendas, and differences
of opinion tear us apart as families rather than be united. It was a tremendous blessing to me that Jimmy
and I could be united in our decisions for Nan’s care.
One thing I didn’t have to worry about while I was away was
my animals. Our niece stayed at the
house and kept the cow milked and the animals fed and watered. I was so thankful for her generous heart and
her willingness to come and take care of things. It took a huge load off of my shoulders and
was definitely another huge blessing during a difficult time. At home, her family made the sacrifices they
needed to make so that she could help us.
I am so incredibly thankful for the people who make life easier.
Back at home we continued to plug along with daily chores
and I appreciated the quietness of our home and the tranquility that I feel
here now more than ever. It is a refuge
for me and each time I go away from here, I come back that much more thankful
for our blessings. Even my niece mentioned that our place was a “little piece
of heaven” and that is exactly what it is for me, a place where I can shut out
most of the ugliness of the world and rest in what is good. I have had a lot of ugly in my life, some of
it forced upon me by others and some of my own making by poor choices. Some of it was a combination of both. I often think that while I want this part of
my life to last forever, yet knowing all seasons must end at some point, I must
never cease to be thankful for these moments in time that are so rich and a
fulfillment of many of my dreams, no matter how long or how short they may be
in the grand scheme of thing.
Mid-week, we made a
day trip to Staunton. We drove together,
but Mike had some things come up unexpectedly that he needed to tend to and I
ended up using his mom’s truck to drive back to Carroll County by myself so
that I could milk the cow. The drive was
long and I was tired after spending the day completely cleaning out our big
booth at Factory Antique Mall. We had
loaded everything into our enclosed trailer with the help of our son in law,
and Mike hauled it down to Carroll County where we set up a new booth on the
main level at Briar Patch Marketplace in Galax.
It was all a tremendous amount of work but it felt good to “clean house”
and set up a new display in a new location.
There had been problems with theft, mismanagement, and lack of
communication by the staff at Factory Antique Mall from the very beginning
since we started into selling antiques there almost two years ago. Some of that comes from the enormity of the
place and some of it just from management and a lot of the staff showing little
regard for the property of the dealers.
It is refreshing to be in a much smaller establishment where the owner
and employees seem to genuinely care and the atmosphere is pleasant.
This evening, I am sitting on my porch and the road out
front is quiet with only a car passing now and then. My cows have been milked for the day, and I
know that all the animals are currently safe and content. Mike is watching a football game on
television. We have had a nice day attending church with those we have come to
love like family and then having lunch and spending time with Mike’s sister
this afternoon. We ate good food, we
laughed, and we had serious conversation.
I am just thankful for life’s simple gifts and for love that is ours
both to give and to receive.
As this month moves forward, I am deeply aware of what month
it is. This week marks a decade since my
son Joshua left this earth. My heart still
aches in the way that only a mother who has “lost” her child can ache. My mind still reels thinking of how my
precious son died and the fact that we will never know for certain the events
of that night and the horrors that were faced in those final moments of his
life. In some ways, there is never any
closure when a mother can’t for certain say what happened to her child at the
moment of his death. I have often
thought that if my son’s death were a clear suicide case, then I would at least
know exactly what to say when people ask.
On the other hand, if investigations had revealed a clear murder case,
then I would say without hesitation that he was murdered. Instead, I am forever left not knowing for
sure what happened that horrible night.
I have my dream, my vision that occurred at the moment he was shot,
before I ever received the phone call telling me it had occurred. I will never forget awaking from a deep
sleep, the nightmare fresh in my mind of my son’s death and the feeling of his
presence leaving this earth. At that
time, believing it was only a terrible dream, I forced myself to let it go and
return to sleep, only to be awakened by a telephone call from my ex-husband
telling me that what I thought was a nightmare, was in fact a reality. I will never forget those moments with his
life suspended between heaven and earth as machines and doctors kept his heart
pumping, my own heart telling me that he was already gone and that as a mother,
I needed to return his precious body that I had born inside my own to the
earth. Although my heart continues to believe that he
would be here today if it were not for the young man who loaded three bullets
into a shotgun and brought it from an adjoining room and either forced or
encouraged my son to pull the trigger, never will we know for certain what
happened that night and while it will always be murder in my mind, the courts
determined it was assisted suicide. This is not something a mother lives with
easily, and I have had to learn to live with my deep grief, pain, confusion,
and lack of answers. What I have had to
do is learn to find peace without any answers and in spite of the grief. For a number of years, the grief kept me from
really being able to live fully, and so
much of life passed me by as I struggled just to hang on to my sanity, but God
is gracious and somehow through all the pain, all the hurt, and all the
mistakes I have made in dealing with my grief, I have found myself in a place a
decade later where I can recognize the intensity of the hurt, accept the fact
that I will never know why or how it happened, love my son more than life
itself, and yet be able to embrace life fully and live with joy. Every previous September since Josh’s death
I have struggled to function through the first two weeks of the month, dreading
the 16th and the anniversary of Josh’s death and how I would face
another year without him. This September
dawned upon me and I met it with a thankful heart for all that Josh has taught
me both through his life and in his death.
Never would I choose this path but life chose this path for me, and that
which I do have a choice over is how I live the rest of my life in spite of the
broken pieces that will always be there.
The last ten years has been a journey learning how to pick up the pieces
and live again. While there is an
element of aloneness in grief, I have not had to face my grief alone. I have had a husband who, while not perfect,
has stood beside me when others would have walked away. I have a daughter who, in her own pain of
losing her brother and best friend, has never abandoned me in my grief. I have two wonderful step children whose love
has born me through some most difficult times. I have a best friend who is
never more than a phone call away and I have extended family and friends who
have loved me through the dark days. Most
of all, I have never lost my Faith. My
beliefs have changed somewhat as such a deep tragedy caused me to question some
things I had been taught by either words or actions of the Christians I have
known throughout my life, but never have I lost Faith in a God of Love. In fact, I believe now more than ever in that
Love.
September 10, 2018
It has been a difficult decade, since Josh’s death on
September 16th, 2008 but if Josh has taught me anything during his
life and death (and he has taught me more than I can ever express), he has
taught me that living fully is the best way to keep his memory alive. Those years of living so deeply in grief that
I was unable to even walk through a day without falling apart in some way
(although often in secret so that I did not burden others with my pain) were a
necessary part of the healing process but had I become stuck there, I would not
have learned the full lesson of what Josh’s death had to teach me. (I don’t believe that God forces evil upon us
in order to teach us lessons, but I do believe that life is full of minor
difficulties as well as major tragedies that give us opportunity to grow if we
remain open to the lessons.) It was a difficult process and grief takes its
time. It can’t be rushed. It takes longer for some than for others and
we cannot project our own timeline on someone else who is in pain. But somewhere within that journey, one has to
come to the point where they step out and embrace joy once again. It starts small. I remember the first time I smiled after Josh
died. I felt like I had somehow betrayed
his memory by allowing myself a moment of happiness. It wasn’t long after that the concept of joy
and sorrow coexisting in the same heart took root in my mind. I have stuck to that over the years, allowing
both of these emotions to coexist, giving space for each of them and giving
myself moments where I have held each emotion close and allowed it to grow and
swell until it almost, almost blocked out the other. Each still remain and will always remain but
the knowledge that I don’t have to force one out in order to experience the
other has given me the freedom to relax into my grief and to live my life fully
also experiencing joy in its completeness.
I will have some down time this coming week where my heart will break
and the tears will fall but I started out this week of remembrance giving into
my desire to dance when a stranger pulled me onto the floor as guitars, banjos,
fiddles, mandolins, and the base together formed the old-time mountain music
that I have learned to love so much.
Both of these are
acceptable, the dancing as well as the tears.
Most of all, I will face this ten-year anniversary of my
son’s death knowing that I, with the love of family, friends, and my Father in
Heaven, will be able to face ten more years and then another ten if I live long
enough. That is something I never
dreamed possible at the time of Josh’s death. I remember distinctly wondering
how I could ever make it through one day without him.
Not only will I be
able to survive the years without him, but I will be able to dance some as
well.
Josh took up playing the guitar about a year before his
death. While the old time mountain music
was not his music of choice, I couldn’t help but think last night as I recalled
the events of the day, that somewhere on the edge of that circle of musicians sat my
son, with guitar in hand and a smile on his face, playing his heart out while
he watched me dance. Josh was just a
shadow, not visible to anyone but me, only a presence that a mother can
discern, but I know that he was there, cheering me on, encouraging me to
remember what matters most.