Learning how to shut the door

This has been an interesting week. Interesting in a topsy-turvy, emotional, retrospective kind of way.

We (meaning not me, but Eric and his brother Scott) are cleaning up the last vestiges of Tario existence over at the house on Lincoln. It is basically cleaned out now, stripped of all it's charming loveliness, all of Mom's touches. Scott produced a box of the aforemoaned-about dishes, which I was very happy to acquire. They are currently sitting on my dining room table in boxes because I really have no place to put them...at least without cleaning out a closet or two. Scott also kept half of the aforemoaned-about dishes to 'remember mom by', which is totally fine (no sarcasm, I promise). I only wish he had been up front and honest from the start that he wanted them, it would have saved me a few tears and crazy attacks. I will freely and fully admit that I wanted to keep all the dishes, all of Mom's dishes, so that someday I could pass them on to Carly and Josh. But, they are just things. I keep telling myself that and someday it will be true.

The trucks that were in the backyard resurfaced in Joshua's mind and he came downstairs 2 nights ago crying because he'd 'never have another chance' to get them, and now he wanted them. Thankfully Scott and Eric remembered to box them up and bring them over (the unbroken trucks anyhow) and the boy can rest easy.

Mom's house, 1 year after her death, is still a treasure trove of hidden love tokens....such as a brand new GI Joe action figure (he's so much cuter than Ken, really!) that she put away in a closet for Josh. Talk about reaching from beyond the veil to tap us on the shoulder. Eric had a hard time over that GI Joe, that 'typical Mom' reminder. Tonight they (meaning Eric and Scott again) went over to move the last few things and found a file box in the closet that contained Scott's adoption paperwork and some old report cards and other papers. Quite a find, I don't think Scott even knew those papers existed. Tomorrow I am going to make a sweep through the house to make sure there are no more hidden gems we've missed. I'm not looking forward to it, I've been putting it off all week. It's too empty.

Which brings me to dooce. I don't know if any of you read dooce or know what it is. It isn't really important for you to know much beyond that she is a former LDS church member with a very popular blog. (Read: so popular that she and her husband make a living off of it and their related online ventures.) I'll 'fess up that I'm jealous of her spunk, humor and ability to turn what is basically an online journal into a money making machine. I am drawn to reading it, despite its sometimes objectionable material. I'm not really sure why, except that I see her as somewhat of a puzzle. In reading her blog, she has gone from (what I see as) a militant stance towards the Mormon church to a more mellow view. I think it is quite reasonable for people in and out of the church to have questions about it. I think that is part of human nature, to question and seek. However, no matter what things I might find uncomfortable (like not allowing black men to hold the priesthood until a few decades ago, polygamy, etc) I can't - or haven't - ever found reason to doubt the comfort and clarity it brings to my life. When people ask me questions, I have answers that make me happy. Whether or not they make the questioner happy is secondary to the fact that I am satisfied with the answers I can provide at this juncture.

I know, it seems like I am on some kind of weird tangent. But it does all circle back around. I am thinking of dooce because I can't imagine how I would deal with losing Eric's mom if I was not Mormon - or even more baffling - if I once was Mormon and had walked away. She even made a post once where she was discussing the feelings she had that stemmed from a struggle in her life; she said that at one time in her life Mormonism would have filled the emptiness. OK, so not quite like that. She was more clever in her wording but that is the basics. The impression I got was that she hadn't figured out what to fill up Mormonism's void with. Perhaps I am wrong in my impression, I don't expect her to show up and care or correct me. The point is that it spoke to my feelings, my gratitude that I do have something to fill up the void with. I cannot imagine the confusion and sorrow that I would be feeling without having a sure knowledge that the separation we call death is only temporary.

In the words of Thomas S. Monson in January 2002:

"Frequently death comes as an intruder. It is an enemy that suddenly appears in the midst of life’s feast, putting out its lights and gaiety. Death lays its heavy hand upon those dear to us and at times leaves us baffled and wondering. In certain situations, as in great suffering and illness, death comes as an angel of mercy. But for the most part, we think of it as the enemy of human happiness.
The darkness of death can ever be dispelled by the light of revealed truth. “I am the resurrection, and the life,” spoke the Master. “He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”

This reassurance—yes, even holy confirmation—of life beyond the grave could well provide the peace promised by the Savior when He assured His disciples: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

Out of the darkness and the horror of Calvary came the voice of the Lamb, saying, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” And the dark was no longer dark, for He was with His Father. He had come from God, and to Him He had returned. So also those who walk with God in this earthly pilgrimage know from blessed experience that He will not abandon His children who trust in Him. In the night of death, His presence will be “better than [a] light and safer than a known way.”

If you've stuck with me through all of that, a few closing remarks. I was looking through pictures today, some from high school and some from my wedding. I was amazed that it has actually been 13 - 14 years since many of them were taken. At some point I will amuse llegue and Heather and Lacey by posting some from the old days.

While flipping through some of the wedding pictures I stumbled on one of Mom holding Marion. Marion was about 8 months old when Eric and I got married, this year she turns (GASP) 12. I don't know if I ever really told Ben, Angie, Marion and Kiana just how much Mom loved them. Now, of course they know how much my mom - their neighbor! - loves them. But Eric's Mom always asked how they were, loved LOVED when the sent pictures, and tracked the growth and progress of Marion (and Kiana - who she never met) through the years. This wasn't a casual, related by marriage kind of love. This was a genuine affection and familial love, and I want to make sure that they know because I don't think I ever made it clear how much they meant. My sister, Queen Charlotte of the Legos, was lucky enough to visit often and spend time with Mom and hopefully knows just how much Mom loved her. I hope too, that Bud (and Jamie and the boys) know that she loved them and asked after them also. And, of course it goes without saying, she had a special place in her heart for my parents also. Mom was someone who always had room for more family. I mentioned Ben and co first and specifically because Marion needs to know she is a special child, one who was dear to a woman she (probably) doesn't remember. I don't know why, but when I saw that picture today I felt it was important.

Comments

Heather said…
I can't wait to be amused. I'm glad the dishes resurfaced... a small consolation.

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