Wish You Were Here

I look in the mirror and I see you.

I speak and hear your voice.

I laugh until I cry and I see you doing the same.

It's a weird kind of feeling, I can't really describe it. It's like I'm me, but also you. Maybe I'm crazy, but maybe it's true, I do remind me of you.

I spend a lot of time in my car these days alone, mostly praying for everything but the kitchen sink. It reminds me of the time spent with you, driving forty five minutes both ways on a Friday night just to get groceries. It wasn't always the most exciting and often ended on a sassy note, but it was time and conversation with you.

I remember when you told me the song you wanted at your funeral. I was a freshman in high school and I said, "Okay. But stop that, why are you thinking about that?" I didn't believe, I couldn't fathom you dying anytime soon. We weren't much for sharing real and raw emotions with each other, so I bottled it up tight and hoped it was far off in the future.

You were diagnosed with the brain tumor when I was two. You had successful surgeries and treatment. You made it this far, why would things change?

I guess we learned that life is short and can change at any moment.

The summer my life turned upside down was the title of the first piece I had written for an assignment and I discovered my love for writing. The paper was about that time you went in for surgery and came out without function in your arm and leg, the summer before my senior year.

Life changed fast, but we learned how to function.

Yea life was different, but no funeral in sight. We made the best of it, named your useless limbs Harry and Sally. It made no sense, but we thought it was funny. We high-fived when we successfully navigated a public bathroom in a wheelchair. You always found something to laugh about, even on the hardest days. You made progress in learning to walk again. Dad modified things so you could have some independence. Life kept moving.

I stayed home instead of going off to college, at God's call to help Dad take care of you. You asked me with tears in your eyes, if I resented you for it as I got you dressed for bed and we were fighting over how to put your night shirt on (I wanted to follow what they had taught us in OT, you wanted to do it your way), I cried myself to sleep that night. In the moment, I hated it. I felt shame for hating it. What kind of daughter was I, that I would hate taking care of my mom? I hated that I had to care for you and put my life on hold, my heart broke because I loved you so much. A war waged in my soul.

I would do it all over again in a heart beat.

What I couldn't put into words then, is that I was broken over the brokenness. Our situation displays perfectly that the things in this world aren't as they should be.

Fast forward to hospice. You had to be rotated every two hours. I took the 11pm and 2am shift so Dad could sleep because he was still working. About a week before you took your last breath, I slept through my 2am alarm, woke up panicked and with an urgent voice, saying "you need to tell her you love her, the time is coming" -- now I can confidently say it was God speaking to me in that moment. So I did, I went and rotated you. I held your hand and whispered in your ear, "I love you mom" and didn't sleep the rest of the night.

Okay, okay, yes I know....enough of the sad stuff ;). I promise I don't dwell on these things all the time. I just remember from time to time because it was in these moments where Jesus drew me close to Himself. He comforted me when you and dad couldn't. He was the only friend who understood the weight of being your caretaker and the grieving of putting my life on hold. He met me in my deepest pain and I know He met you too. It reminds me of His faithfulness and that He will continue to meet me in the tender places of my heart, when I start to lose hope.

I wish we had talked more about our faith, but I know yours was deep. I would not have leaned in to mine, if you hadn't leaned into yours. So thank you mom, for holding to your faith in the darkest of your days. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to know Jesus. I would not be the same without Him, He is the greatest gift you could have given me and I am forever grateful.

I look in the mirror and smile.

I speak and remember your voice.

I laugh until I cry, embracing the beauty and therapy that being silly is.

I dream about my future babies' and how I will tell them that Grandma Pam would tell them to eat their peas because they make you pretty and that Jesus loves them more than anyone. That you weren't perfect, never pretended to be, and that's exactly the point. Jesus doesn't ask us to be perfect, He is the perfection we will never be.

I miss you.

I love you.

See you soon.

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

"He says, "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalm 46:10