P.O. Box Heaven

Dear Mama,

After you left that morning, I barely cried. I mean, I did....But not enough. Not what I pictured myself doing. You know better than anyone how much time I spent dreading and envisioning that moment. After the boys and I pulled the sheet over your old vessel, and left the room, we started making phone calls. After Hospice, the first person I called was your big sister, Punkin. I had phoned her moments earlier to tell her about the change in your breathing. The second phone call was short, "Punk, mom's gone to be with Mamaw and Papaw". She was quiet. I knew she was hurting. But her reaction was silence. Then I called Sharon. I told her the same thing, that you had joined her parents in Heaven. Your baby sister was a little more verbal with her feelings. She began to cry and said "no, no." My heart broke for her, but my tears were hesitant. Then she said "y'all were there by yourself?!?!" She seemed upset at the thought. I assured her that we were fine. Then I told her how wonderful you did as you left. I then called Michael. Michael's voice is alot like yours. The sound of it brings out any hidden emotion in me. I began to cry a bit while on the phone with him. He was upset as well. I don't think any of us really realized how quickly this would go. I mean, days earlier you were talking to us. Now, we were informing everyone of your passing. We knew, but we didn't know. The nurse came in and like a total professional, she handled everything. I was quiet. So were the boys. It was very surreal. There wasn't alot of crying or talking or anything. No visitors yet. No you. Just us and our thoughts.  Michael showed up a while later, and was there to help me through the shock of a hearse backing up to your door. Two men in suits shook my hand, then walked down your hall into your bedroom. Soon they came back out, with what I visually recognize as you under a blanket on a stretcher. I cried again as they put your body in the back of the car. The next few hours were filled with errands and small tasks. I know you handled most everything, but we had to tie up loose ends at the funeral home. Then, we had to go order flowers to adorn the casket. Food and goodies flooded in. How could we expect any different? These people were wonderful to you through your illness. They were wonderful to us through your passing. Without the distraction of all the visitors, their kind words, gifts and gestures, I think it all would have hit us alot harder. Thank you for setting everything up, where Ronnie, Josh and I didn't have to do much. I have never done anything like that before, and quite frankly didn't know where to start. Br. Robby came to see us, and walked me through some of the steps. I was quite numb. I was hurting, very badly actually, but at the same time I was emotionless. Josh was fine, kind of like me. Ronnie said that we were in shock, and it was going to hit us later. He, was the most emotional of the three of us. I did what you asked, and stayed close to them through the hours following your death. As we sat in your house, I kept forgetting that you were not in your room sleeping. You slept ALOT just before you left. It was easy to forget that you were not back there snoozing away.

I went home late that night. Though I was exhausted, I had a tough time sleeping. When I finally dozed off, I felt you holding my hand. Thank you for that. I love you for keeping your word. You said you would find a way to let me know you were okay, and you did. I slept pretty good after that. The next morning, the kids made you some artwork to hang on your casket. It was hard, but I know how much you love it. They were confused. I know you would have wanted them there at the funeral home, but I didn't let them come, because I was scared they would see me fall apart. After all, I had held it together so well, I just knew there was a storm of emotions on the horizon. With Mili just 2 weeks old, I shuttered at the larger image staring back at me in the mirror. As if things are not hard enough, I have to get dressed up and see people looking horrible and 30 lbs heavier. I know, I know....Nobody cared. But still, it was one more thing to feel depressed about.

When we arrived at the funeral home and walked in, it was as pretty as I remembered. We sat and awaited the rest of the family to arrive, so we could view the slide show. As it aired, there were sobs and sniffles throughout the room. I was ok, until the very end, where Ronnie had included a little video of you holding Mili and smiling. I began to cry aloud at the sight of your beautiful smile. I miss that smile. I miss you.

 After the video, it was time for us to walk in the parlor where your body was waiting. I didn't really want an open casket. I didn't want to see some weird version of what you used to look like. But Josh did want it open. So I had been dreading this moment. Brother Robby prayed before the funeral director slid the doors open and we walked in. I stared at the floor repeating "I can't, I can't, I can't". I was so scared of what I would see. Michael held my hand and said "You can do this". When I looked up at your old home, it was beautiful. The three of us stood together and took it all in. We didn't cry. Not hysterically like I envisioned. I knew that you were not in that body anymore. It was obvious that the warm and compassionate person that used to dwell there was gone some where else. I smiled at the thought of where you were. The boys helped me put on the bracelets that you always wore, because I was shaking too bad to do it myself. I think you would have liked the dress and scarf that I picked out for you. Though Ronnie said we should have used that old green hoody and neon crocheted toboggan that you wore ALL the time instead. You probably would have preferred his idea.

The turnout for the visitation and the funeral was amazing. As I greeted friendly, familiar and teary eyed faces, I remained almost totally emotionless. Every now and then, a face or hug or something  would ignite a crying session. The David's Grocery crew got me the worst, I think. But mostly I consoled others, as my heart was broken, yet numb. Ronnie and Josh did great. They looked so handsome. They clean up well. They really held it together. Your sisters did good. Ricky too. Daddy had a tough time. Of course, there is a history there that only you and him could know. His tears hurt me, though I didn't really know how to console him.

The day of the funeral, there were three singers. I told you I was going to get you three! They all did a wonderful job. It was obvious that Br. Robby was really listening to you as you talked about our family during all those visits. His words were hear felt and beautiful. I dreaded the graveside service. I really did. But it wasn't that bad. I felt like I needed to walk up to each person there (there was ALOT) and tell them thank you for being there, but I didn't have it in me. I asked Michael if I seemed awkward, because I felt awkwardly quiet. He assured me that everyone understood. After the final prayer, I headed for the car. I was fine until I saw my sister in law, Jamina. I don't know why, but her hug made me cry the hardest I had through the whole process. We went back to your house, well, Ronnie's house, after the service.

Me and Michael spent the night of the funeral, in your room. Josh and Amber slept on the sofa bed. The boys slept on a pallet and my girls were in my old room. I know you were worried about passing in the house. You were worried it would be hard on us, or weird for us, especially Ronnie, living there....Well, it's not. There's nothing "creepy" about the room or the house. It's just sad, because we don't hear your laugh echoing down the hall anymore. Each room is filled with you. But, for me, it's everywhere I go, not just your house.

I haven't had a huge breakdown, like I thought I would. I don't know if I really was "in shock", or if I was at peace with your passing. Though there has been nothing super dramatic, I have hurt the worst since the funeral ended. Each day has been more difficult than the last. I cry every day. EVERY day. The girls ask about you every day. Neva wanted us to come to Heaven and see you. She asks "does Gammy have a bed in Heaven?", "Does Gammy have lunch in Heaven?", "Is there soup in Heaven?", oh, it is endless. She misses you. She worries about you, just like I used to. Nori asks about you the most. She cannot wrap her sweet little mind around your absence. However, neither can I, really.

The boys, Amber and I have been talking every day. We have had Sunday supper every Sunday since you left. That first one was rough. We are going to try and keep it going, like you wanted. I did "the thing". You know, when things don't go my way, and I hoard up in the house and stop taking calls and keep to myself. I only took calls from Ronnie and Josh for several days. Luckily, there have been a few persistent friends that are staying on top of me. Amber drug me and the girls off to the zoo last week. I thought of you. Last year, YOU were with me when we spent that blistering hot day walking around the zoo. I also got Neva back in gymnastics. I was so impressed with her new teacher, I couldn't wait to tell you. I put the girls in their car seats, jumped behind the wheel and excitedly grabbed my cell phone. Then it hit me. I don't do it often, but when I forget your gone, it's horrible. Because I have to remember all over again. This is hard, mama. Harder than I could have imagined. But I am trying, and I think you would be proud of me. Of all of us.

I stopped blogging. It didn't feel right without you reading. Then the other day it suddenly hit me, that you can still read the posts, you just can't call me afterwards to comment. I couldn't wait to get a minute to catch you up on everything that's been going on. Though, I know, you actually already know it all.

We tried hard to get everything on your wish list done before you left. There were a couple things lacking, but for the most part we got it. I wish you had been able to drive your little car more. You wanted a beetle your whole life. You looked so cute in it too. I'm glad we found one we could afford, because the boys and I really wanted that dream to become a reality for you. I just wish you had more time to enjoy it. You also got to see the mountains. You saw the mountains, but I saw YOU. I have never seen an adult so in awe of something. It was priceless. We tried hard to make your last months good ones. We wanted the person who gave all of her life to serving others, to see some of her dreams come true. I hope we made you happy. I feel like we did.

I'm proud of you mama. You did so good through everything. You prepared us the best you could for what was coming. I think that is why we have all handled it so well. You fought so hard. You didn't stop, even though some of your treatments made day to day life a living hell. Until the moment you were told "there is a 90% chance that NO other medicine will work", you NEVER stopped fighting. Not just fighting, you never stopped LIVING. It would have been easy to climb in bed and sleep away your pains and fears. But you stood tall and faced them like a champion EVERY DAY for 10 months. I really couldn't be prouder. You should be proud of yourself, too.

Well, I know this is turning into a novel, and I know how your attention span is. I just wanted to tell you that I love you....Oh my goodness, I love you....So much that it hurts. I miss you so much. I wish so badly that you could wrap your arms around me and tell me "everything is gonna be alright"....Oh how I long to hear your voice. I miss you. I miss "us". You and me, we had something special. But YOU....You were good......You had that magical ability to make ALL of us feel like we were your favorite. I guess all mamas do that. You were just particularly great at it.

I love you...

All my heart.....

Bushell and a peck....

Hug around the neck.....


See you later,

Nikki