Two Years

Two years later. The date reads the same with the exception of just one number; but, what a difference that one number can make.  It got me to thinking that if we changed just one number we would be back in that ICU room experiencing one of the most tragic things I have ever witnessed.

Numbers really are an important part of our day in day out life, especially in my business but when you really think about it death has a lot of numbers involved too.  It was 8:59 p.m. on the clock when she took her last breath and although I can't remember the exact stats on the monitor I can remember watching them and my heart sinking and having to remind myself to breath.  Other numbers that stuck out in my mind was the phone number that called me to tell me to get home from vacation because she was sick, dates also stuck out like her birth date, March 15, 1959 and the fact she was only 52.  There are numbers of the days that slip into weeks and pretty soon the numbers turn into years.

As those numbers move along time also passes.  Before too long not having a mother anymore is no longer your first thought when you awake.  It becomes maybe your second and maybe it doesn't hit you until later in the day. Then as time flies on it becomes more of a thing you think about when you hear other people talking about theirs or see moms and daughters with strong relationships.

Anyone who knew our story knows there was much heartache in dealing with a disease that I believe is one of the worst in the world.  It separates homes, lives, relationships and slowly breaks everyone involved into pieces.  As I remember her today my mind is on the positive, her perfect smile, huge heart and her beautiful spirit.  Her life was not always perfect, but she sure was blessed and I think that if she were here today she would say the same.

I can remember trying so hard to be so tough and anyone who knows me probably believes that I was! I smiled and greeted people I hadn't seen in years but when I would get home to a quiet house I cried like a baby for 6 months every night. My momma would have laughed at me because the one thing I literally lost sleep over was the casket color.  I laid in bed awake at night trying to put it all together in my mind if my flowers and casket color I picked out would match?! Seriously?! (Only me)   

During this time two years ago I can remember the outpouring of friends and families love.  Things that people did that they may not have even known made an influence. Friends came from everywhere, cards were in the mailbox daily.  Some left wine on my porch and some just stopped by for a hug or to leave food for my family.  The scripture painted on the wall walking to the ICU room at WBH that Kijsa Housman painted that I read every time I walked through the doors.  My cousin stealing a UK flag out of flowers at the funeral that was not sent to me (That I did return!) because I said I liked it. He did this just to make us laugh instead of cry. My 80 year old grandfather who took me to that casket for just one last goodbye and said "your momma loved Jesus and she wanted to be sure that you did too" Looking back God showed up in every single moment!

So here we are two years later.  I don't feel like I have crossed any finish line or achieved any trophy because so many have gone through this before me, but I am glad that time takes care of some heartache.  My number one thankfulness today is that there is no more pain and suffering for her and that she is up there with God doing something way more exciting than I am here!

BLESSED, that is where I am two years later.