What are your words?

As 2015 draws to a close, and a new year approaches, I've been thinking about a word or words to represent the upcoming year.

But to come up with a word or words to represent the upcoming year, I had to look back on what words I would use to sum up the past couple of years.

Here's what I came up with:
2009- excitement, anticipation....This is was the year Cale was born and I was so excited about all of the new memories that were made and becoming an aunt to the coolest boy in the word.
2010- growth, joy....all of Cale's firsts started this year and watching him grow was so fun
2011- independence....I bought my first house and learned to live on my own completely. I love it!
2012- completeness, worry.....This is the year Reese was born and we felt complete. This is also when Keri was diagnosed with breast cancer and I started to worry.
2013- courage, strength....watching Keri fight so hard gave me the courage and strength to support her the way she needed me to
2014-faith & hope....the two things that got us through the year and that we carried in our hearts until the end of Keri's journey
2015- sadness and mourning....you know why

So, reflecting on the past 7 years, it's been easy to come up with words that represented  each year because I've already lived those years.

But....but what if, instead of waiting for 2016 to end so I can figure out what my word or words would be, why not come up with the words and live them for the year? Could it guide my year?

So, here are my words for 2016....love and happiness

Love- this year, my goal is going to be to love myself as much as I love other people. I always put myself last and this year, I'm going to start putting myself first in a lot of areas. I'm going to fall in love with me, so that maybe, just maybe, someone else will fall in love with me too. People can't truly be loved if they don't love themselves right?

Happiness- I'm tired of being sad about so many things, so I'm going to be happy. I'm going to do things that make me happy, be around people who make me happy, and share things that make me happy with others. When I was watching a Hallmark movie tonight there was a line that said, "Happiness isn't a destination, it's the journey along the way." I couldn't agree more. I'm excited about the journey of 2016!

So here's to love and happiness for 2016!

What are your words?

A beautiful goodbye

My Sydni, my sweet Sydnibear, had been sick for several months. She had a tumor growing on her bottom that the vet had said was basically like breast cancer for a dog. I cried and cried that July afternoon when the vet likened my dog-ter's cancer to the same kind that took my sister. I prayed and prayed that God would take her on His time because I couldn't face another terrible, terrible 24 hours of anxious waiting and praying.

God gave me 5 more months with my Sydni from that vet visit. 5 months to reminisce, to live, to give Sydni the chance to do the things she always loved to do.

When December 9th got here, I told my mom that I was afraid that she would go soon. I just had a feeling that she knew I needed her here to get through the first year without Keri, but I could tell that things were starting to turn.

Sydni stayed with me 2 full weeks after getting through December 9th. Our day started out normally, nothing made me think it would be the last day. I had plans in Smyrna that day, and when I left I gave her a kiss bye, yelled "be good, see you in a little while."

When I got home several hours later, Daisy met me at the door (as usual). I could smell where Sydni had had an accident. I thought it was weird she didn't meet me at the door since she usually does, but I could hear her panting (as usual). So I followed the noise, and found her in the kitchen. When I saw her, I knew. My heart knew it was her time.

I called my dad. He could barely understand me, but he was so calm. He kept telling me that I had given her the best life and she had lived a great life for a dog and a long life and that's part of our lives is losing a pet. He was so sweet and calm and told me to stay with her and love on her and to just let him know.

Then I called my mom and told her. She said the same things. Sydni had lived a good life and I had been the best momma for her and to love on her.

So I did.

First I cleaned her up the best that I could. I readjusted her body to be more comfortable than the position I found her in. In doing this, I knew she couldn't feel anything from the head down. I had a kit that I'd been meaning to do with Sydni to get a paw print of her. So, I quickly set it up and got her paw print forever imprinted and added her name and the years that I had her on it.

11 1/2 years.....

The whole time I was cleaning her up, putting her in a more comfortable position, getting her paw print, I was kissing her face and nose, rubbing her head and ears and sides, telling her how much I loved her and reminiscing about our memories together. I kept laying in the floor with her, so we could look each other in the eyes.

Then I knew the time was so so close. I laid down in the floor. I kept kissing her face and nose, rubbing her head and ears and sides, telling her how much I loved her, telling her that I was right here with her and she wasn't alone. Telling her to give Keri a big hug and kiss when she saw her. I just kept saying the same thing over and over and over again.

It seemed like this was a long time, but in reality, it was just time standing still, allowing me to soak up those moments. I had oftened wondered what my last moment's with Sydni would be like. I had prayed that I would get to be with her, so she wasn't alone. Almost like a premonition, everything happened just as I had imagined it would, and I'm so thankful that I was there with her.

At 6:40, with one hand on her heart and the other hand rubbing her sweet, sweet face and kissing her nose and telling her I loved her so much, my Sydni took her last breath. It was a beautiful and terrible moment all rolled up in the biggest bowl of grief ever. My first dog that was all my own. My first baby was gone.

How can 11 1/2 years go by so fast! 1/3 of my life included her. The 1/3 of my life that was the most life changing part of my life.

The whole time everything was happening in the kitchen with Sydni, the biggest December storm of the century was happening outside. I could hear the tornado sirens going off the whole time, but it never dawned on me what it was.

The only thing I really paid attention to was the windchimes I keep in my house (gifts people gave me when Keri passed away). What's weird is the last hour of Sydni's life, the windchimes kept chiming.....even without wind blowing in the house. I think it was Keri letting us know she was with us.

The next day my dad came and pick us up. He told me he had the perfect spot picked out to bury Sydni.

Now the whole time that I have loved my Sydni, my dad has loved my Sydni too. Watching him move her to the truck was so tender. Knowing she was gone, he still treated her like she was here. So caring, so loving, so sweet.

At his house, we have a spot where we have always buried our animals that we lost: calves, chickens, ducks, kittens, Radar. I thought this would be where we laid Sydni to rest, but my dad found the perfect spot where the sun shines right on her, even deep in the woods.

I watched as my dad dug her spot out for an hour and half. Making it perfect, making it so that she would lay comfortably just as she always had when she was alive. I bawled and bawled, but my dad just kept talking about how he was so happy her last day at his place had been so fun to watch Sydni running like a puppy, swimming in the creek, chasing the other dogs like she was her old self.

Even through my tears, I realized my dad was just as sad as I was. He loved my Sydni. When the spot was finished, my dad so sweetly wrapped her up in her blanket and tenderly put her in the wheelbarrow to take her to her spot. He knew I couldn't talk. All I could do was sniffle and sniffle.

But I watched my dad carefully pick Sydni up for the last time to lay her in her spot. He made sure she was comfortable and then tucked her in with the blanket. So sweetly. He was so sweet as he covered her with rocks very softly as if he was laying feathers on top of her. When he started to cover her with dirt, it was like he was sprinkling her with glitter to make her shine again, not something dull that would never let me see her again. It was beautiful even though it was so incredibly sad.

It was beautiful to see the sun shining on her the whole time my dad respectfully, tenderly, sweetly laid her to rest talking about the same great memories I had talked with Sydni about the night before.

It was a beautiful goodbye to my dearest friend and confidant, my sweet baby girl, my Sydnibear, my Sydni.

A beautiful goodbye.....until we meet again

Thanks and Giving

As rough as I thought this time of year might be, I actually have been waking up with such thanksgiving on my heart lately. I know Keri and God are giving me some peace to help me, but as I reflect on the fastest year of my life, I am truly thankful.

I am thankful for the outpouring of love I've seen and felt from family, friends, and strangers.

I am thankful for the hugs, the time spent taking my mind off of sadness, the phone calls, texts, and dinners to just talk about anything but loss.

I am thankful for the thoughtful gifts I've been given this year: The coasters of pictures and verses, the sunflower wreath, the cross wreath that looks like one Keri had, the She is Clothed in Strength and Dignity wooden wall hang, the sisters rocks, the butterfly light for my garden and Gerbera daisy, the turtle for my yard, the calendar of pictures of Keri and me, the wind chime, the picture of me and Keri with a favorite verse, the verse cards that were meant for Keri to encourage her and now me, the sweet cards, the chewing gum, and countless others that I know I've forgotten in my fog of the past year. They all mean so much!

I am thankful for the plethora of memories that have flooded back to me this year and all of the memories I've been honored to hear from others who have a favorite.

I am thankful for the friendships that have strengthened because of our shared love of the sweetest girl ever.

I am thankful for the understanding that people have given me when I'm in a funk or just need to be cheered up.

I am thankful for the signs from above that I've witnessed this year.

I am thankful for all of the stories of people who now believe in God because of Keri.

I am thankful for the peace I feel, even though it hurts sometimes.

I am thankful for knowing at my age the importance of time and truly LIVING in the moments.

I am thankful for getting to keep Keri alive for her kids and for everyone.

I am thankful for EVERYTHING!

Now that it's the season of "giving", I still encourage everyone to choose a favorite charity, organization, or cause to give to. These are some ideas for giving this year.

• http://www.donationto.com/Alex-Pearson-Recovery-Fund - This is a child who goes to church with my aunt. Please read his story and consider helping his family out. You can also follow them on Facebook at Alex Pearson's Recovery
• Angel Tree - great to do with kids to show them what helping others out is like
•  St. Jude Children's Hospital Keri's favorite charity. You can even buy gifts that allow you to donate money to the hospital
• Triple Negative Breast Cancer Foundation - help fund research to find a cure

 BE THE GOOD! BECOME BETTER!

Be the Good, Become Better

My perspective of life and things about life has dramatically changed over the past few years, but especially these past 11 months. I can feel the change that has taken place inside me. While I grieve and mourn, I also feel the spark of a light within me slowing starting to glow brighter.  

As I said before, Keri was my Sun. She was the Sun to a lot of people. She was our LIGHT....the light that is within me, and I'm betting many others too.

This year at school has been totally different, but in a good way. I love teaching. It's all I ever wanted to do when I was little. I've enjoyed every year I've taught, but this one is just different. I realize that as much as I've always loved my kids and the kids I work with, this year has gone to a new level. I have a different understanding of each child I teach and encounter. I'm more empathetic with situations that may be affecting their ability to learn. I'm more patient with their needs. I'm more understanding of the importance of the little stories they want to share. 

I've been thinking about this the past couple of weeks and this week it finally hit me. Keri is within me. She is my spark inside. Her love for kids is within me and she is still loving students through me. She has shown me how to really SEE my kids. I wish everyone could have seen her teach, seen her love kids that weren't her own, seen her not just think about their needs educationally but also emotionally. I wish every kid in school could have had her and known how much she cared about every single one.

I was telling my mom about how I feel different, but it's a good different. What better way to honor Keri than to be more like her? If more people were more like Keri, the world would be such a better place!

The moment that really made me realize that her spark is within me and I am becoming more like her was at an assembly we had for Veterans Day. Seeing how I've become more emotional in my old age, and especially this year, I was already teary. Most students don't fully understand the importance of the day and how much it means. 

 

We were watching a slide show that featured the men and women we were honoring, when some very caring students got my attention to let me know that another one of my babies was crying. When I say crying, it was uncontrollable sobbing. I got the student to very quietly come sit beside me and I asked her why she was upset. She told me that she had lost her real father when he was in the military. I just hugged her. 

 

It was that moment, I realized why God had me there. Why God said "no" to one prayer and want earlier this year. He needed me there for that moment. I can empathize with her. I know her pain. She needed me to hug her and tell her it was ok. She needed me to let her remember the good memories she had with her dad, not just the sadness. 

 

But I needed to be able to do that, not just for her, but for me. To realize that my experience has now made me different...better...more understanding. I need to be the teacher that Cale and Reese will need to have one day. The teacher who will understand that there are days when you just really miss a person who can't come back. Days when your mind can't concentrate because something triggered a memory that is lingering. Days when you don't want to adult, or student, or kid and you just want to be hidden in a fort of blankets and pillows and hide from the world.

The ripples of me loving on that student when she needed it have been a blessing I never knew I'd get to have. I don't tell this to get accolades. I truly don't want accolades for it. She needed me and I was there for her. BUT, another positive of being Better, being more like Keri, was that I was an example to other students. What I thought was very discrete and quiet actually spoke loudly across the gym to many other students. Several students, some who I don't even teach, have said something to me about that. I got to be the Good these kids need to see so that they can become Better.

As the Christmas season approaches, I really encourage people to sit down and think about the meaning of Christmas. Think about what you can do to help someone out. Instead of spending bundles of money on gifts people may or may not need or want, consider going in together with your friends and family to donate to a family that is in desperate need of donations for medical expenses, getting an angel off an angel tree, donating to a charity that helps a cause near to your heart, doing something bigger than yourself. 

 

Some people and organizations to consider when donating are:

• http://www.donationto.com/Alex-Pearson-Recovery-Fund - This is a child who goes to church with my aunt. Please read his story and consider helping his family out. You can also follow them on Facebook at Alex Pearson's Recovery
• Angel Tree - great to do with kids to show them what helping others out is like
•  St. Jude Children's Hospital Keri's favorite charity. You can even buy gifts that allow you to donate money to the hospital
• Triple Negative Breast Cancer Foundation - help fund research to find a cure

 BE THE GOOD! BECOME BETTER!

“Go into the world and do well, but more importantly, go into the world and do good.”- Minor Myers Jr.

 

 

10

October has always been my favorite month. Keri's too. All the leaves changing, the smell of pumpkin, the harvest decorations, visiting Gatlinburg....

3 years ago October changed. Keri was diagnosed and all of a sudden all we saw was an explosion of pink, everywhere. At the time, I didn't understand how seeing all of the pink really bothered Keri. We'd been through breast cancer with Mom, and we made it a fun time dressing up and celebrating each treatment, wearing pink, living life. So to me, pink was a symbol of hope. But to Keri it was a constant reminder of the fight she was going through. I didn't understand until now. This year seeing pink is a constant reminder of what our world has lost.

This October has hit me hard. I do enjoy the leaves changing, the smell of pumpkins, the harvest decorations, but it's hard to enjoy it. Last October was when I really realized, or started to acknowledge, how sick Keri was. This time last year, we took our last family vacation to Gatlinburg, we planned our last Halloween party/hayride at my dad's house, we watched Hocus Pocus together for the last time.

It seems like when someone dies you think of all of the firsts you have to go through: holidays, birthdays, summer breaks, fall breaks, etc. For me, it's like a gigantic reflection of the lasts: the last picture we took together, the last text message we had, the last conversation we had, the last party we planned together, the last hug, last kiss, last love you infinity....

Today marks 10 months that God decided He needed her. Double digits. I was telling my mom the other day that that's a long time, but like it was just yesterday all at the same time. December 9th will never be the same, but it's the 10th that is what I'm living every day. The realization every morning when I wake up that I can't call her, hug her, talk to her, watch her raise her kids. It's like a terrible remake of the movie Groundhog's Day, where you live the same day with small differences, but it's still the same.

I started writing this and now I've completely lost my train of thought and what I was wanting to say. So I guess I'll leave you with this: enjoy every moment you have with the people you love, respect that Pinktober isn't spectacular for everyone, and watch Hocus Pocus at least once this season.

Stars, thinking, and being weird

I saw a shooting star tonight.

I've been sitting on my deck at night, sitting back and looking at the stars. Thinking....

Thinking about Keri and how I wonder if she's just on the other side of the sky looking at all of us. Thinking about how long mourning and grief last. Thinking about why I am having such a hard time praying with an open heart again. Thinking about that scene from "The Lion King" when Mufasa explains to Simba that stars are our ancestors who've gone before us and wondering how true it is. Thinking about how much I just need to talk with her, hear her voice, feel her hug, hear her laugh.

And while I was thinking about all of this, I look up and see a shooting star. A green shooting star. Green-Keri's favorite color. Maybe she really is just on the other side of the sky looking.

I've been thinking about how here we are, eight months after the worst day. I look at everyone who's living and wonder sometimes how they go on with their life like this big thing never happened. How are they not consumed with the thoughts of memories and missed memories,  the overwhelming flood of emotion that pours through the gaping hole in your heart. Seriously I think this and then wonder what is wrong with me?

I know and acknowledge that I'm not the same person I was before December 9th. I'll probably never be like I was before that day. I was so filled with hope that I never ever ever ever EVER thought for one second, even in those last months, weeks, days...hours......Ever ever ever gave up hope that things wouldn't work out how we wanted it to. But then it didn't, and as I lost my sister, I lost my hope filled heart. I went from being an idealist to a realist.

I've been thinking something is majorly wrong with me. I go through the motions of life but it's not as fun.

Then I realize, while life goes on, as it should, grief and mourning doesn't stop after a certain day or time and that's ok. It's ok to still get sad, to get emotional, to want to be alone, to want to be surrounded by people, to want to talk, to not want to talk, to feel guilty, to feel lost, to feel weird, to feel like others think I'm being weird because honestly I am, to  want to get away just to want to be back home.

So, really, please be patient with me and anyone else who is still grieving and mourning. Try to be understanding that our life has been altered in a way that can't be repaired. Don't run away from us, just give us a little space if we need it, but please be there for us. We do love you and appreciate you for it more than you know, even if we are being weird.

I stopped talking to God

Confession time: I stopped praying as much as I used to before December 9th.

It's not something I did on purpose. It's not because I'm mad at God. It's not because my faith has wavered (if anything it's gotten stronger). It's not because I don't believe God will hear or answer our prayers.

For 798 days, I prayed so hard that I felt like my soul would rip itself out of my body. Every moment I was alone, I would pray. Even when people were around, I prayed. Even in the busy moments and all of the quiet moments, I prayed. Have you ever prayed that hard? You know what I mean, when you pray so deep from your soul that you can feel a tug deep in your stomach and straight from your heart, like it's being pulled out of your body and heading straight into God's hands and ears.

My faith, my love for God was and has been deepened over the past couple of years. I couldn't be more thankful for that. Although we mourn, I've seen some of the greatest things happen during this time. I've seen people learn about and start to follow Jesus. I've seen selfless acts of kindness happen. I've seen people change their way of living to spend more time with friends and loved ones because they know how precious time is. I've seen people unite to show support and love for people they don't even know because they know how unfair some situations are. God is good all of the time! And He has shown me that, even though I mourn.

But I stopped talking to God...

And I finally realized it and once I realized it, I also realized why.

I stopped talking to God because I want to talk to Keri. Keri is my go-to person. The one who could always say the perfect thing to make me feel better, to make me realize what decisions I needed to make, to cheer me up, to make me see the positive side of any negative situation. Everything that has happened to me over the past 169 days has been hard. Even the good things have been hard. For 30 years, she heard the good, the bad, and the ugly of me. So, it's hard to have bad days and not get to talk to her about it. But it's even harder to have great days that I just want to share with her because those great days and moments are what are making me happy and helping me get through the worst thing of my life.

I know not talking to God isn't the answer to anything. Technically I still do. I still pray, but not like I was for those 798 days. My body, my soul, and my mind were and are still kind of exhausted. This is no excuse, and I realize that it's not a good one even if it was. A lot of time, my prayer is simply, "God, you know what's on my heart and mind today. Amen." Sometimes, it's just hard to pray...to talk with Him. I don't have the words, but I know He's there and I know He understands me right now.

Before anyone suggests that I talk to Keri, don't worry, I do. This is what I normally look like

Every time you see me with my eyes closed, facing the sun, I'm talking to her. She is the sun after all. I talk to her in the busy moments and the quiet moments, the happy days and the sad days, when I'm driving or hiking or just any time my heart feels it. I talk to Keri so I can talk to God because I know He hears me too. Doing so helps my heart.

I can't wait until the day I get to talk to them both face to face. That will be the best day ever! So, until then I'll just keep talking to them both. :)

new NEW normal

Yesterday marked 3 months....90 whole days of my sister being in another place. 92 days since I got to talk to her and cut up with her and be that "normal" we had grown accustomed to over her 2 year 2 month journey.

It's crazy how as you are growing up and becoming an adult life can feel "normal". Most of you probably feel that you have a "normal" life right now. People have their "normal" routines, their "normal" weekend plans, their "normal" daily activities.

But..... Then when something like cancer comes along, your "normal" changes. You get used to the "new normal" of seeing your loved one without hair and with new scars. Your "new normal" includes conversations you NEVER want to have with someone who is supposed to be your Louise when you are an old gray Thelma. Your "new normal" is seeing people rally around your loved one in the biggest display of love, support, and encouragement that you've ever seen in your life. Your "new normal" is savoring every single minute spent with your most favorite person because you, in your early 30s, have realized how precious every single second with someone you love is.

As I type this, I remember my last "new normal" time spent with Keri. Our last sister time together alone. Just me and Keri. Conversations about life. Plans for the future. Worries of the future. Philosophical discussions. Promises made. We should've been talking about who I have a crush on or ideas for Christmas lesson plans with our students. We should've been talking about what we were going to do during winter break with the kids or going Christmas shopping....anything that would've been "normal" 2 years and 2 months prior. But instead, it was those things. And honestly, I'm glad we had our conversation. We were those old gray women talking, just in 30 year old bodies.

But then IT happened. 2 years and 2 months and the only way God could heal her was to take her to Heaven. BOOM! Now you have a "new NEW normal". But this "new NEW normal" sucks! There's no way to sugar coat it because it does. No more phone calls. No more text messages. No more sleepovers. No more conversations. No more planning together. No more sister time....

You know what makes it even worse? Is this "new NEW normal" is actually more like a vicious cycle that is on repeat every day or every time you feel like are back to those "normal" days 2 years and 5 months ago and go to text or call her something funny. With this "new NEW normal" you get to feel those raw emotions hit you like a wrestler doing a clothesline to your throat. You get to feel that stab in your heart, punch in the gut, every time you remember what you wish you could forget.......what you wish wasn't real.

With this "new NEW normal", some days I can make it the 3 feet to my bathroom after my alarm goes off before I think about...most mornings it's as soon as the alarm goes off. Or if someone sends me a text message, my first thought is that it's Keri, then I feel the clothesline, stab, and punch. My "new NEW normal" is daily torture right now.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still living life and probably making the most out of it more now that I might have a few years ago. It's just not as fun without Keri.....and, to me, it probably never will be. But slowly, slowly, slowly, SLOWLY, I'll learn to live with this "new NEW normal" because I guess that's just part of life right? I really hate "new NEW normal".

The Sun and the Moon

                                 Photo courtesy of http://www.wallpaperhere.com/Sun_and_Moon_15395

I love you

My sister is the Sun. The day she was born, she brought the light of the sky with her. Beams of light shone out of her our entire lives. She always brought sunshine to everyone with her cheeriness, her smile, her laugh, her brilliant heart for others. She brought the Light of Jesus to many people, especially later in her life. She is the Sun.

like the moon loves the sun

I am the Moon. On the day Keri was born, I received the light I needed to shine in my life. She gave me the light to be who I was born to be. She provided the light of encouragement to do the things I needed or wanted to do. She gave me the light I needed to feel important whether I was in a "new", "waxing", "waning", or "full" phase of life. I am the Moon, and, like all things in the dark, I rely on the Sun for my light.

because the moon gets its light from the sun

On the day Keri went to Heaven, I saw the Sun shine and her smile at me as she passed into God's arms. That was A Sweet Gift from Keri . Since that day, I've been in the dark. I am the Moon after all, and I belong in the night. Without Keri, my light source is gone. When you lose someone who is your very best friend, someone who is your person, someone who you love beyond the realm of this world, you have no choice but to be in the dark. Honestly, that's how I feel a lot of the time. Some days, I really just want to yank my comforter over my head and stay curled up in a ball mourning all day. Some days I force a smile at people and pretend like I am actually there, but I'm only there in body; my mind is somewhere else. Some days, I want to really be the Moon when it is in its "new" phase, when no one can see me, even though we know it's there. I guess I am in the "new" phase for real. Dark. Lost in the sky. Missing the light.

The moon can't shine without the sun

I don't feel the same without the Sun. People tell me I never will and I know I won't. I know that I can't. How can you when you've lost that light? There have been very few days since December 9th that the real Sun has shone; it's been so cloudy and sad, almost like God is mourning with us. When the Sun does shine, my heart, my soul, my body, and my mind have to stop, stretch out my arms and soak the Sunshine in. (If you've ever seen The Odd Life of Timothy Green then you know what I look like. You should do it some time.) Soaking up the Sun is comforting because the Sun gives me that warm feeling of love that I miss. The Sun gives me a hug.  The Sun makes me miss my Sun even more. I miss our talks, our texts, our jokes, our time together, our hugs and kisses, our laughs together. I miss telling her the exciting things that are happening and talking about the things that scare me. But even though I miss my Sun so much, soaking up the Sun gives me hope for the future and a glimpse of Heaven.

You're my sun

Although right now is dark, I know it won't last forever. Something you don't realize about the Sun is that although for 30 years it gave the Moon light, it also put that light inside the Moon's heart and soul. Just because the Sun is gone, doesn't mean the light is completely gone either. The Sun gave us all a gift to go out and spread that light to others. We are all here to be the Sun for someone else.

Ephesians 5:8 For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light

My Sun changed my life for the better because of the light she gave me. My Sun taught me how to keep shining, even when it's hard. My Sun showed me how to love others and be loved by others. My Sun helped me be the person I am.  My Sun still encourages me to keep pushing through these dark times because eventually a new phase in my life will come along. And I'll smile because I had the Sun and the Sun loved me, so her light still shines.

So I shine  

Waves and Bear Hunts

I've never liked the ocean. It's deep. It's scary. It's constantly changing. Although the ocean brings destruction, tragedy, and loss to thousands of people each year, it also brings beauty and beautiful things are found all around it, in it, and above it,

Funny how life is so much like that. Even funnier how much grief is like that. Funny isn't even the word I mean, maybe I mean ironic?

A couple of months before the worst day of my life, Keri had started singing "Going on a Bear Hunt" with the kids. We watched a video on YouTube and the kids love it because of all of the motions and repetition of the song. Primarily the parts that says, "Can't go over it, can't go under it, we have to go through it."

Again, funny (not funny) how much life and grief is like that song.

I've seen many things about how grief is like ocean waves. I may have even posted one. The thing is, it's so true. At some points, you feel like you are surfing or boogie boarding on top of the wave: "normal", smiling, happy, laughing. But then the wave gets too big or too strong and reminds you of its power and knocks you off of that surf board. Suddenly, you are pulled back into that deep, dark place in the ocean of grief. You can't breathe. You feel the salt water on your face from the tears that ripple up through your soul and out your eyes. Your stomach churns just like the under current and makes you want to just curl up and hide in the dark again.

"Can't go over it, can't go under it, we have to go through it."

The waves subside and we pull ourselves back up on our surfboards of sunshine as we remember the fun times, the happy memories, the big, big smiles that warmed our hearts. And for a while, we feel "normal" again, we smile, we laugh, we maybe even have moments where we are happy. Then we know the currents and waves begin to build back up, and we know we'll get knocked off again in the vicious cycle of life and grief.

I hate the ocean. It's deep (sometimes it feels too deep to bear). It's scary (sometimes it makes you feel like a little kid afraid of the dark again). It's constantly changing (my emotions are as waving as the grief itself).

But like I said, there is also beauty. There is beauty in knowing that not one unkind word was ever spoken about my sister. There is beauty in the love and support shown from family, friends, and even people you don't even know because they knew how wonderful she is. There is beauty in the stories that people tell when remembering her and how she touched their lives because "That's our Keri". There is beauty in the laugh of my favorite Littles when I tell them a funny story about their mama from when we were little kids because I see her smile and hear her giggle. There is beauty knowing that Keri lead and continues to lead people to Christ by the way she lived every single moment of her life. The most beautiful thing is knowing that one day we will see each other again in Heaven.

So, although the loss is real and deep and scary. "Can't go over it," 
And the grief is overwhelming sometimes like the ocean waves.  "Can't go under it"
There is still beauty around it, in it, and above it. "We just have to go through it!"

A sweet gift from Keri

I miss my sister every day. I just can't even describe the hole I feel in me from her not being here.

I honestly don't think people realized how close Keri and I are. I say "are" because even though she's not here, she is coming to me in my dreams, in things I see, in things I hear. I can't explain it, but I'm thankful for it. But I really wish people understood that Keri and I were "soul" mates. There's no doubt in my mind, God wove us from the same thread before he placed us in two bodies. Maybe that's why I feel so much like my insides have been ripped out of my body. But I have some peace from her sweet gift to me, and from when she is in my dreams.

So what is my sweet gift from her? A few hours before Keri went to Heaven, I was able to spend some time with her, holding her hand, talking to her, reading scripture to her, telling her how much I love her, and kissing her forehead. In that darkest time, on the worst day of my life, I told her I just wanted her to open her eyes and to see her smile her big smile again so I knew she was ok.






A few hours a later, I was asleep in the waiting room in a chair. I could hear the people in there with us, so I guess I was really resting. My eyes were closed and all of a sudden it felt like I was being held/hugged (like if you are holding a toddler who's asleep on your chest). And  it was like the sun came out from a cloud shining on my face. But in the light I could see Keri's face as clear as if she was standing there. She was smiling! She was smiling her big, big, BIG smile at me! It only lasted for a few seconds (maybe 15 seconds if I'm wishful thinking), and then I felt the hug slip away and the face fade away. At the exact second the hug and the face was completely gone, my brother-in-law let us know that the journey had ended and a new one had begun for Keri.

I still tear up thinking about that moment because there are so many emotions that come to me. Of course the overwhelming devastation of her really being gone, but more importantly, that gift! The gift of her smile letting me know she IS ok. It wasn't exactly the way I may have wanted it because I want her here, but she and God blessed me with that peace of seeing her smile and knowing she is ok.


I honestly guess I share this because I want people to know that even though it feels terrible, there is some peace in the bad moments. Because I want people to know that you can be that close to someone and have a connection like that. Because I want people to have someone who they are that close to and genuinely work on a relationship with that person. And because I want people to know that God does answer your prayers, even when it's not 100% the way you want it. He healed her and let me see her smile.

Enjoy her big BIG smile. That's MY Keri. OUR Keri. Crazy Strong and Keri On!