Four Years

Still missing  you.

Always.

Feel you sometimes.

Dream of you too.

I see signs

reminders of your nearness. 

I used to say

come back, come back.

No miracle here 

but the

miracle of hope.  

Long to hold you,

a mother's wish,

to be near you, 

my strong and tender son,

wrapped in those long generous arms. 

As I wrapped  you at birth. 

Hearing the husky laughter in your chest 

in my ear.

The thoughtful way

you asked me how I am. 

Mama,  you say. 

Smile, listen, joke, encourage. 

Your ability to love each of us

as if we were the only one. 

The energy

vibrancy

insight with life.

World  wise.

You knew.

How so young did you know so old?

Aching for my beautiful wise son

 to help me along the way

on this mystery road.

What would you be telling me now 

to strengthen me? 

Love. 

So full of love. 

Your very best legacy.

Living for the living. 

You would want that. 

This world lost its illusions and charms

but love never fails. 

It is always the hunger

Always the food.

Always gives strength for the journey. 

My life is about waiting now. 

Waiting for reunion day.

God is giving the strength

day by day

to live in a world without you

knowing I will be in a world with you

on that day.

And we live deeper now

where the pain and poignancy meet hope. 

You started all of that. 

Mother's Day Gift

If she weren't my daughter, I would choose her as a friend. 

Mother's Day Photo Attempts

adjusting hair

not looking at camera

model stance

can't see dad

dad scratches chin

giving up and isn't that hilarious

stranger passing by succeeds

one more please for good measure

just the guys --with too many bags

mama and daughter...ahhh. I did it!

three generation fail. 

sweet grandbabies try one more time for their mama and nana.
release. 

All Over My House

Roses. All over my house.

One of those things that make me really, really happy. 

In this harvest, I collected 50 roses from my 18 varied rose bushes.  

I put them all in vases, and scattered them in every room, and even made some to give away.

I am excited thinking of at least 3 more months of this. 

I love growing organic veggies, but roses are in a category alone. They just take my breath away. 

A timely gift from nature coming so closely around Mother's Day and the anniversary of Joey's death. Surely a God who can create these lovely things can also do everything else He promises. It's so clear and simple. Love and comfort come in all kinds of ways. 

The grass withers, the flower falls, but the word of our God stands forever.
Isaiah 40:8

Happy Mother's Day to Me

Jaime~Joey~JoAnne

From my body born.

I love my three babies. Love. Them. Completely.

Motherhood has been both the sweetest and most aching part of my life's journey.

I miss my beautiful boy who is in Heaven; I last saw him around Mother's Day four years ago.  

We laughed together at a poolside breakfast on Mother's Day in Oahu 2008. A moment of bliss.

My memories are precious pieces of a short life. Dancing at a special wedding so long ago.

Walking me down the aisle at his sister's wedding years later.

There is an invisible cord that connects us and I refuse to say goodbye to him--only hello.

At the same time, I am so thankful for the two beautiful girls who continue to share my life here. My loving husband, too, who is also responsible for these beautiful children.

Thank God for His tender mercies and the deep comfort they provide.

They are my privileged place in life.

Hurt and deep comfort, both living inside my broken open mother's heart.

Life is such a strange brew of joy and sorrow, parallel tracks of good and bad, smooth and rocky pathways that cannot be avoided.

Mother's Day is a reminder that I don't get everything I want in this life.

Despite my tears, I have hope.  

There is a place where there is only comfort, joy, and good;

a place where there are no more tears.

 I look there.

I am resolute in awaiting that good day

when we will all be

together

again.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Revelation 21:4 

Middle School Orchestra Ambivalence

Isabel waves to her friends. She's a little embarrassed by the whole orchestra thing.  I keep saying she should be proud. Not many people can play a violin.

Getting serious now. There's work to be done.  

Oops, distracted. Focus, Izzy.

Everyone in position and waiting for their teacher/conductor to take her place. I have nothing but admiration and gratitude for middle school music teachers. They are like the monks who kept learning alive during the Dark Ages.

Watching intently. Starting to lose herself in the music...

There it is. Beautiful music out of angst-y middle schoolers. Success.  

Such concentration pays off. It's lovely.

Yo-Yo Ma would be proud. I certainly am. I am so hoping she stays with it.

Grief Is...

May has begun. Like a shadow going over the moon, our rekindled grief darkens our hearts, brings a deep pain in the chest, and an intensified longing ache for one who isn't here. Anniversary reaction has become a fact and an immovable object these past four years. I came across this poem today and am sharing it here because it expresses a lot of what I feel when I am too weighed down to find my own words. It's by Alice Wistler.


Grief is laughing with your children and wishing for the absent one to make the circle
complete.

Grief is crying in your car at stoplights.

Grief some days makes you brutally honest; other days, grief muzzles you.

Grief reconstructs your heart.

Grief is sadness, hope, smiles and tears rolled tightly like a snowball.

Grief makes you search past the stars and the moon for Heaven.

Grief strips you of everything you were pretending to be.

Grief gives you new priorities.

Grief opens hidden treasures from deep with in your soul.

Grief allows you to empathize more deeply with others who ache.

Grief makes you unapologetically bold.

Grief is a daily companion, best dealt with by admitting you do walk with it, even after all these years.

Grief is the price of love.