I was off yesterday and went to mom and dad’s house for the day.  Helped dad pay the last of the medical bills (we think) and balanced his checkbook again for the 64th time.  He’s confused.  Mom took care of the checkbook, the bills, the house, the grocery shopping, the laundry, everything as far as I can tell.

Dad’s a little lost.  We all are.  As I sat on the porch swing that we bought her for mother’s day, (the porch swing that she never got to sit in or even see) and looked out over her backyard I thought about how different it would look if she were still here.  There would be flowers.  Lots of flowers.  But there aren’t.  There is basil and sage and a few tomato plants…she planted those the week before she died.  She kept saying, “I’m buying flowers after mother’s day weekend, I can’t wait to buy my flowers.”  But the only flowers are the peace lilies from the funeral.  Yuck.

Still trying to read this book called HEAVEN.  I guess it’s supposed to be helping me.  Sometimes it does.  Sometimes it doesn’t.  I’m not really sure what helps.  I am trying to pray.  Sometimes that helps, sometimes it doesn’t.

God is in control.  He will do what He will do…and we will live (or die) with that.  I just never doubted that He would heal her of this.  Now I doubt everything.  Will Bob die too?  I guess we’ll see.  That too is in His hands.  Why pray?  It feels like it doesn’t matter if I pray or not.  Nothing really matters.

I will continue to try to pray; because I think I’m supposed to.  I still love God and I know He still loves me.  It’s the faith thing I’m a little confused about.  I think I’m supposed to continue to trust God.  Even though I trusted Him for something really big, that I thought was His will, that I did not receive…I think I’m supposed to continue to trust.  Is this faith?  Trusting no matter what?  This is hard.  But I guess I’m going to have to trust Him to get me through it.  I have nowhere else to turn.  So maybe this is how I learn a new level of faith.

 

 

I have some anger and some unforgiveness in me right now that I want to spit all over this page. Then i may erase it. Or not.

There were some people at mom’s funeral that came out to show their love, show there compassion toward us, show us that they loved mom too. There were people that came to help us, to hold us up, to hug us, cry with us, laugh with us, remember her with us.
And then there were people who came to…disrespect us? Anger us? Abuse us?
Those were the people who smoked weed at my dad’s house the day after the funeral. Those were the people who disrespected my mom and dad AND our family. Funny…. these people were family.

I get that everyone grieves differently. I get that. I get that there were people drinking wine…I was drinking wine! But bringing drugs into his house, illegally…
Anyone who knows my family, and knows my dad KNOWS his absolute HATE of drugs. It seems like a slap in the face. It seems like a complete and total disregard for what we were going through, and a complete disrespect for us. It seems like something that is unforgivable. Is it? Will i forgive? I need to.

This is bad stuff. Embarrassing stuff. If you have an addiction, not my problem. If you bring your addiction to my dad’s house the day after my mom’s funeral….my problem. My pain. My hurt. My feelings.

Why?

I haven’t remembered any of my dreams for a while now.  Connor and Stan had such comforting dreams…I prayed for God to give me dreams.  Good ones.

The first dream I remember was of the funeral.  (not good)  It was not the actual funeral, but I was aware it was mom’s.  We were outside, in a garden and we were all setting up chairs.  We were in dresses and suits…mom came out of nowhere in her robe and slippers, she started helping move chairs around and told me, “your dad likes it this way.  make sure you do it like this…” then she moved his chair.

hmmmm….

Then I had another dream night before last.  I was sleeping in mom and dads bed, on dad’s side of the bed.  I heard someone walking down the hall, it was my Pastor and another man.  They walked by the room and just looked in at me.  I woke up (in the dream) and looked at the clock – it was 2:30 AM and I thought ‘oh I’m not late, I can go back to sleep’.  Then 2 ‘beings’ entered the room.  they floated in, they were in the loose shape of a human, clear but blurry to see through…and were full of pockets of light.  one was obviously bigger than the other.  I was immediately afraid.  they came to the bed and the big one hovered over me, as if it were a human laying on top of me.  the small one got into the bed on the right side of me.  on mom’s side of the bed.  I tried to speak, but couldn’t.  I was afraid.  I tried very hard to speak and heard my words garble as they came out.  I felt like my chest was getting tighter, smothered.  I focused very hard and finally said “JESUS…send them away if they’re not from you”.  I think I said it out loud as it felt as if I was gaining consciousness.  immediately after I said it, the fear left.  the beings didn’t.  the one on top of me came closer, almost smothering me but I raised both arms up and stuck them straight through this thing, wrapping them around it.  I felt like it was full of butterflies, fluttering inside my chest and my gut.  the small one on the side pushed against me too.  it felt very fluttery on my right side.  i just started to feel peace/happy and they were gone.

before bed last night I prayed for God to let me see mom.  I dreamed last night that she was sitting with me.  I asked her if she was in heaven.  she said, “I think this is heaven”  I asked what she was doing.  “planting”  I asked if she’d seen Jesus.  “not yet”  I asked if the planting was hard.  “oh no, not at all”  I asked if she was with her mom.  “yes”  (don’t know why but…) I asked if she had bowel movements in heaven.  (?? I don’t know ??)  she smiled and said “no”   that was all.

wish I had someone who could interpret all of that.  weird.

grief is weird.  we are all going through some pretty weird things.  I used to hear people say strange things regarding their grief process after losing their mom.  I thought it was weird.  now I know.  it IS WEIRD, but it happens.

I used to like math.  Everything made sense to me 2 + 2 ALWAYS = 4     It’s all black and white.  We don’t have to guess.  There IS an answer.  ALWAYS

I’m not really sure of anything anymore. 2 + 2 … does it equal 4? Unwavering Faith + God’s healing touch should equal mom being here. But she’s not. The inverse is true in this case.

Stan was saying the other day, with his engineer brain…”It seems like the further away from mom’s death we get, the easier it should be right?  Then why do I feel worse?  Why is this getting harder?”  He’s right, shouldn’t it get easier?  The more time that elapses away from a horrific event should somehow dull the impact of that event…right?  Then why is the pain not more dull?  Why is it still so sharp, maybe even at times more sharp?

Prayer + Faith + God’s Will does not always equal healing.  But that would mean that everything I’ve ever believed is shattered now.  I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me.   I refuse to believe that this was God’s will.  I cannot believe that.  If I do…why do we pray?  Isn’t it a little sadistic?  Pray in faith and you receive.  Nope.  Pray in faith and believe…and you get whatever I give.  I give, and I take away.  I’m sorry God…but I’m so hurt and confused.

Was mom praying the same thing as us?  Or not?  If mom was praying for healing, and believing for healing, then was she disappointed?  Was she betrayed?  Hurt?  That’s how I feel.  Betrayed, hurt, alone, unloved.

What if mom was not praying for healing, what if mom was saying “I don’t want to fight.”  (because…ummmm HELLO she was)  BUT…hold on a minute.  We were all praying against that, telling her that we’d fight for her.  That we would hold her up.  Didn’t that count?  But what if it doesn’t count?  What if God only listened to her?  What if He told her it was her choice, her fight?  Why did she not fight?

Nothing makes sense right now.  Maybe this is ‘new math’.

saturday the 12th of May…we called 911 because mom passed out at home.  she convinced us and the paramedics that she was fine.

she asked Paula and I to stay the night.  we did.  at 230 am on sunday, mother’s day, dad woke me and said, “your mom needs you, she needs help getting up to the bathroom.”  I helped her.  she was weak, she complained that her knees hurt, her legs were hurting.  my mom didn’t complain.  my mom never complained.  after putting her back to bed, i stood next to her and rubbed her forehead.  i kissed her on the forehead.  like she had done for me my whole life.  when i was sick, or sad, or tired…she placed her hand on my forehead and pushed my hair back…kept her hand at the top of my head and leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.  that was her thing.  and at 245 am on mother’s day i did the same to her.  told her i loved her and asked if she was going to be okay.  she said, “No.  Do you think i should have gone to the hospital today?”

I told her no, if she didn’t feel that she needed to go she wasn’t supposed to.  then she said, “Kim, I think you need to call the doctor.”  I told her that if i called him, he’d send us to the ER and they’d admit her.  She said, “I know.  I think i need to go now.”

I called her doctor, and he told us to go.  When I went back into the room I helped her up, she said to me, “Kim…will you help your dad with the insurance and all of the bills?”  i said i would.  thinking that she was telling me to help with the ER bills/insurance.  I know now that she wasn’t talking about the ER.  she was talking about the plethora of bills and insurance EOBs that we are dealing with now.  the ones that look just like Bob’s…but they say Barbara…and Barbara is not here to take care of those bills now.  I am.  that’s what she was asking me.  if i’d have known then i would have said NO MOM…NO…DON’T GO.  Don’t leave us mom.

i won’t be able to tell this story in one post.  maybe not in 10.  i’m not totally ready to share everything with everyone.  that’s why my posts are protected.  I will unprotect the posts…i will let everyone who has asked “in”…in.  but please don’t give me empty words back.  don’t respond with words.  just pray for us.  pray for me…that God will help me.  that he will hold me.  i’m falling down, and He is the only one that can lift me.  when i’m ready.  now….i’m not.  i’m in a bad place and for some reason i feel that i need to be here.  it would not do justice to what i’m going through to leave this place now.  i want to feel every ounce of it.  i don’t want out yet.  i want all of it.  i want it to tear me up…so that when i leave i can rebuild without tearing down again…i don’t want to have to come back and finish anything.  i need to get it all now.

i didn’t look up the dictionary definition for grief.  i know my definition.

anger, bitterness, pain – pain that i never knew existed and that i feel inside my chest, in my heart, in my gut…real physical pain.

doubt, confusion, denial, forgetfulness, acute awarenss of feelings and emotions…

dizzy at times, short of breath at times, scared at times, not sleeping, not eating…drinking too much wine

and above all else wondering, why?  how?  i don’t get it?  didn’t god tell us to believe and pray in faith and know that what we ask for will be ours?  as long as it’s not against His will.  wasn’t healing her His will?  did she not want to be healed?  was she telling us all along that she was finished/ready to go/done/tired of the fight? yes.  why didn’t we hear her?  if we would have heard her, would we have treated her differently? yes.  is that what she didn’t want? to be treated like she was dying.  but she was.  why didn’t we know?  did we know?  those voices that i kept hearing telling me that she was going to die…i ignored.  i thought that was an attack on my faith.  maybe i did hear, maybe it did defeat my faith?  should we have pushed in harder to god?  prayed more?  could we have changed this?  don’t i believe that prayer and faith moves gods hand?  yes, i do!  then why was god not moved?  why?

faith. it’s not true.  not true that way i thought it was to be.  maybe i know god a lot less than i thought i did.  is this a new relationship with god?  i hate grief.  i hate this.

but i will not take medication, i will not numb this feeling.  i want to feel every bit of this horrific, terrible, destructive, angry, sad, numb feeling.  i need to.

mom…i miss you so much.  i need you still.  i wasn’t finished with you.  where do i turn now?