Just in case...

...you were wondering...




check out the forsythia...

...amidst all the snow today, I had sunshine on my dining room table.

I just couldn't do it...

...yesterday.  I just didn't feel like blogging....blah!   No good reason, really, just a blah day. 


There was frost on my windshield yesterday, which was a bad way to start the day. 


....and the frost on the windshield reminded me that I still can't park my car in the garage, which reminded me I need to clean the rest of the kitchen stuff out of the garage, which reminded me I need to clean out my mother's stuff in her bathroom, which reminded me I HAVE to take care of farm stuff and send out a dozen death certificates...


...which reminded me that she is dead...


...yep, yesterday was a blah day.


...but it's today and I'm going to fight the blahs, beat them down to within an inch of their lives, smack them up the side of the head, show them who's the boss by being...


...happy...


...at least I'm going to try.


Blah-humbug!


Oh, yeah...a shout out to Don Eric, Matthew's cousin...he knew the picture was taken at the funeral home.  I need to spend a little face time with him...I think he is someone I would enjoy getting to know better...kind face, soft voice, nice man.  Thanks Don Eric for your love and support!


Plus he always tells me I smell nice...yep, kind man.

It felt good...

...to work a full 8 hours yesterday.




It felt good to have the "same old" back, sitting at my desk, working with the people I care about and enjoy.




...and when I came home, this is what I saw...

Maybe you can't see a difference between Monday's picture and yesterday's, but I think I can.  My cuttings seem a little greener, just like my life seemed a little brighter.






They say you can't force Mother Nature to do anything, but I'm sure trying to help my forsythia and lilacs along with a little warm water and sunlight.




They say you can't rush the healing after losing someone, but it sure seemed a little better when I saw hope for yellow and lavender blossoms in the near future.

Lilacs in mason jars...

...filled my grandmother's home with spring every April in Kansas.  The wind through the window screens swished in filling the air with the fresh scent of spring like a princess enters the grand ballroom to take away everyone's breath with her beauty.




I love little girls dressed in lavender.  Mother did too.  She would have loved this scene.

(photo courtesy of Shana Whipple, check her out here at Shanawhipplephotography.com to see more of her amazing work and if you know where this picture was taken, comment or email me, because the first one that knows the answer will get something good from me...and you know what that means... the family is excluded from this contest and cannot participate, OK yes you can and a prize will be coming your way!!!)


At my grandmother's home I was allowed to pick as many lilacs as I wanted.  Then I would go down into the storm cellar and bring out blue tinged mason jars and stand the clipped limbs, dripping with the lavender blossoms, into the water filled glass.  The heavenly smell would fill every room, making one feel as if life itself had just begun in her picket fenced flower garden.  I think the Garden of Eden could not have had a sweeter bouquet.   In fact, when Eve was forced to leave the garden, I imagine one of the first things she did was to pick some flowers and place them where she could admire their beauty.




I noticed this week my Mother's Day lilac bush from the the first year we moved in is beginning to show some green buds....and the yellow forsythia will not be far behind.  


Tomorrow it will rain again...




...but today...




...today I am forcing Mother Nature to make herself at home.

11:47 P.M...

...(sigh) and I am totally awake (deep, tired sigh).  What's up with my body.  I feel so weird....and what do I do when I feel weird...or happy...or anxious...or sad...or ornery...or blessed...or just feel like it?????




...I blog, therefore...I am...




I am a blogger.




...and...




I found this quote...




....from Jeffrey Holland, a man I love and admire.




Brother Holland said the following:

If in matters of faith and belief children are at risk of being swept downstream by this intellectual current or that cultural rapid, we as their parents must be more certain than ever to hold to anchored, unmistakable moorings clearly recognizable to those of our own household.  It won't help anyone if we go over the edge with them, explaining through the roar of the falls all the way down that we really did know the Church was true and that the keys of the priesthood really were lodged there but we just didn't want to stifle any one's freedom to think otherwise.  No, we can hardly expect the children to get to shore safely if the parents don't seem to know where to anchor their own boat.

...and since everything I touch or am touched by recently has led me to thoughts of my parents, this quote has had me thinking about them more than ever.


I didn't grow up in the LDS faith, but I grew up in a household of faith.  Faith in mankind.  Faith in country.  Faith in family.  Knowing that when all around us the world was spinning dizzily out of control with this voice saying that and that voice saying this, there were certain things that would never change, mainly family.



I knew things, not because it was really ever talked about, but because it was lived.  My dad's handshake meant his word was signed by the grasp of his very large strong fingers.  His broad shoulders allowed him to physically sustain his home, his family, his farm,  and his country in WW II.  His love for the flag, the banner for his country, caused him to carry the red, white and blue in the color guard every Memorial Day at Minneola's cemetery.


For years he proudly raised a flag in front of our home everyday...

On one of our many visits home, we happened to be there for Memorial Day.  It was near the end of Daddy's life and we could all see him winding down.  I asked him if he felt he could be in the color guard one more time, so that our children could see him as I had seen him every year of my youth.  He did so, carrying the flag in a 60 mile an hour wind, walking up the only hill in southwest KS, which just happens to be where the cemetery was created.  I looked at his picture after we got home and realized how old he really looked, his once straight back was bent into the wind, determination showing on his face to carry his flag with the respect it deserved. 


...he looked old...


...but mostly he looked brave.




He has given me pride for my country that causes me to draw a quick breath when the National Anthem is sung (and to cringe when someone sings it at the Super Bowl and doesn't know the words).



....and while I am proud of him for all of that, there is also an appreciation for what my mother gave me that really came as a quiet unspoken gift, the gift to see the down-hearted, lonely, old and young alike, anyone who is less fortunate and to see in myself the ability to make a difference.


...even if it is just to smile at them, knowing I may be the only one who has done that for them in their life that day.  I told my seminary students that I loved them everyday...and loved them I did and that love was returned 10 fold (and though I'm glad I don't have to get up at 4:30 any more, I sure do miss those mornings with my kids).




I remember sitting in the car in line at a fast food restaurant one day.  I heard my mother take a deep breath and then sigh.  I asked her what was wrong.  She said, while pointing at a little sparrow on the parking lot next to us, "that little bird just ate a french fry...I'm so glad he found some food today."  




...compassion, a Christ-like quality:






Matthew 10:29:

Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.

Another time, at the Dairy Queen in Dodge City, mother observed a young boy counting his pennies trying to decide if he had money to buy something for lunch.  My mother, tears in her eyes, handed him $10 and told him to buy himself a really good meal.




...and so it was, compassion for the less fortunate and respect for the world around us, that were the anchors my parents gave me.





...and while they weren't ever the type to boast or to draw glory to themselves, I am extremely proud of where I came from.


Like Jeffrey Holland said, "....we as their parents must be more certain than ever to hold to anchored, unmistakable moorings clearly recognizable to those of our own household."











...another happy thought.


Matthew and I will do our best to give these same strong values to our children and grandchildren.

The thought...

...keeps going through my mind...




...I don't know how to do this?  How do I live without her?  I have spent 7 years with her in my life, everyday, every meal, every thought...




...and now, I'm having to re-think everything.




Going up the stairs this morning, I heard someone say, "My mother is dead."  It's really odd when you hear your own voice and not recognize it was you saying the words.




I'm adjusting, but there are moments of complete disbelief.  I wonder if she is going through the same thing?  But, no, I tell myself, she has a far better understanding now than I do. 




I hear myself saying, "My mother is dead".  Yes, I tell myself, she is dead, but she will always be with me in my thoughts and in my heart(does that sound corny????...I don't care...it's getting me through).  I'm hoping I will always feel her as near to me as I do now.  I hope that as the smell of her perfume wears off and as I become more adjusted to the thought that my mother is dead, that I will still feel her presence in my life.






...and I really hope that she is as aware of me now as I am of what our life together was like...



...before my mother was dead... 

Love you more...

Lookee at Lukee...

...here for a visit.

It's kind of funny how there is a new normal around here.  Everyone comes and looks for her, knowing all the while she's not here.




...so when Lukee came by this afternoon, he brought in Sadie.  Sadie went straight up the stairs and headed into Grandma Great's room.  Sadie remembers spending time with GG while the Tyler family took vacations out of town.  Sadie just knew where to go for a good ear scratching, belly rubbing, dog loving snack.  




...I guess I'm not the only one missing her.

D. did it...

...she found a picture from her wedding of me with mother in "Fancy Nancy" clothes.  Although it was the hottest day in the history of the world, making me look like I had fake baked extensively, I don't care.  It's her and I'm with her.  Lucky me!




Thanks D.




...and lucky me that Sam came for a visit.

and today is a special day for this guy too.

Our lucky little shamrock, who will always have a school party on his birthday. 






There has never been a happier baby.  I can't remember ever hearing him cry...




...not that he doesn't express himself on a regular basis (like constantly).  In fact, he has perfected his yell to the point that you wish he would cry for a while just to change it up a little bit.   D and I ran errands yesterday and this little guy had an opinion on everything.  I've never heard a 364 day old child have such a large vocabulary.  Not that he's saying words, mind you, just that you can tell from the yelling that what he is saying is VERY important.






Matthew will tell you I have an opinion on everything...except sports...well OK I have an opinion on those too, but Logan has me beat...




...and he's willing to share it with you.




He makes us all laugh...except D, who sometimes wants to use the "S" word with him...as in "shut it" for just a minute....and then she will laugh too.




Check out this video to get a vision of how much personality is contained in such a little body....be sure to turn up the volume for the full effect.


BUBBLE HEADS....



...watching this I realized how lucky Logan is...no matter how old he is, he will always have a best friend just a year older to be right beside him.  




Lucky little leprechaun!

While sitting at work...

...I could remember pictures of her with everyone...


...everyone, but me.


....not one picture of us together.




I have taken thousands of pictures of our family in the past 7 years since mother moved in with us.  Hundreds of pictures of my children and grandchildren with my mom, but I couldn't remember seeing one picture of me with her since she moved in...




...not one.


As soon as I got home from work, I headed for the computer room and started searching through bins, boxes and photo books...



Stacks and falling stacks of pictures...Cameron resting his head against her chest, Mike  and mother huddled together over a jigsaw puzzle, Porter and her watching TV, Aubrey sitting next to her, Lauren and mother hamming it up for the camera that she didn't think was on, both of them laughing, even her with Max...but me with mother...




...nothing.




How could I have missed that?  Didn't anyone ever take a picture of me with her?  Did I never once hand the camera to someone and ask them to take a picture of us together? 




...nothing.




How could I have missed that?




What was I thinking?




...and now it's too late.




No regrets, I tell myself, no regrets.  If I start opening that door, wishing for a do-over...no, I can't even think about it.


...no regrets.

Diane Sawyer...

...was broadcasting from some where in Japan, devastation surrounded her.




Her words caught my attention, the potato masher in my hand stopped, the steam from the pan warming my face.




...the daughter, about 30 years old, searching the faces of a rescue center, looking at each person, the pleading tone obvious though her words were foreign to me, asking...




...do you know my mother?




...have you seen her?




...then a cry, then another...




...mother and daughter embrace...




...the lost is found...




...mother and daughter reunited.




Suddenly I was so very, very grateful that I didn't have to wonder, didn't have to think about her suffering or worry that she had been scared....suddenly, I was just very grateful that I was with her when she left...




...and I know exactly where she is...

...and who she's with.

Dolls, guns...

...and lots of surprise.




For several weeks, long before I knew how seriously ill mother was, I had wondered how to keep her memory alive after she was gone.  Matthew and I have always tried to talk about family experiences that we feel are important for our children to remember, even at the risk of being told, "We've already heard that one, dad", knowing that time has a way of stealing away those important memories.




For example, the day we moved into our home in Aurora, CO, as we were setting up the bunk beds, Andy, who was playing underneath, suddenly jumped up and ran across the room.  Seconds later the top bed, heavy wood and mattress crashed down onto the lower bunk.


Andy yelled, "Did you hear that?"




"What," Matthew and I asked?








His reply has echoed for years through our family as we have told and retold the story.  "The voice," he said, "the voice that told me to move". 






The voice of the Holy Ghost had spoken loud and clear.  He had obeyed and been kept safe.




...so it was during my pondering of how to keep Grandma Great's memory alive for her young great-grandchildren that the Holy Ghost told me what I should do.  Buy each of the little girls an American Girl doll from Grandma Great and each of the boys a rifle or B-B gun from Grandpa Great.  Then instruct their parents to remind them of the loving great grandparents those gifts came from every time they play with them.  Proceeds from the family farm that my parents had worked so hard to care for paid for those gifts.  It is a fitting memorial to my mother, who loved dolls and her great-granddaughters, and to my dad, a WW II veteran and avid pheasant hunter.




I love the pictures of Amelia, peeking out to see what all the excitement was about, and Tessa May trying to help her be surprised.

These pictures will also be viewed by future generations and then they will hear the stories and mother and daddy will live on.


...they would be pleased.

We brought Grandma Great...

...home in her urn and set her in her room on the two week anniversary of her death.  It just seems like the right place for her to be until it's time to take her home to Kansas to be with daddy. 

There's something surreal about picking up a shoebox size urn knowing that all that is left of her is in a 7" X 10" wooden box.  It's beautiful, a dark cherry wood with a high gloss finish.  She would have loved it...




...but it's hard.




I was grateful Matthew went with me.  I didn't know how I would feel.  I think I was a little angry that she was gone.  I don't know why, just missing her I guess.




It has rained off and on today with rays of sun in between.  It is rather like my emotions, always changing. 




Her shoes are still in the corner in her room.  For some reason I just haven't been able to move them.  She was the one that put them there.  I want her to be the one to move them.  Silly, I know, but true nevertheless.

Each of the children who spoke at her service talked about how she was always dressed to the nines when she was going anywhere, even the golden arches always saw her looking fabulous.

I know she loved seeing the boys dressed in their suits and matching ties.  She always taught me to look my best knowing that I would feel better if I felt better about how I looked.  I know some people think that's worldly, but she was right.  They don't have to be expensive, but put on clean, pressed clothes and then put on a smile...




...then the people you meet will smile with you.  




She was right....

 

My 7th grade...

...P.E. teacher never, not ever, looked this dang cute!

Notice the boys all gathering around!!!

Porter has been involved with a basketball club in Bay Village for 2 years now.  He performed at half time for the Harlem Globe Trotters and Lauren invited him to do a little show for her PE class.  He wasn't at all shy about dribbling in front of several hundred jr. high kids.  Matthew and I were extremely proud.

Not...Carlee was not picking her nose, she had an itch, promise.

"Make me a child again...

...just for tonight!"





Just before the visitation began our family gathered around one another at the mortuary.  The adults were still discussing plans and arrangements, but the children found a way to find joy in one of the darkest of times.  At one point, the little girls in their matching lavender and cream dresses held hands and danced to music unheard by the adults.  Their laughter echoed through the halls of a building that has seen so much sadness.  Eventually their parents hushed them, but not before I had a chance to envision my dad and mom seeing their great-granddaughters finding joy by just being a family.  




For just a moment, I wished to be a child again, to dance and laugh in the face of death.  But then I realized I was smiling and that in my own way, I was doing just that, finding joy when death was around me...thanks to my granddaughters.






There are those who don't believe in an after-life.  I do.  I also believe in a pre-mortal life where we were as a family then too.  We did not come into this family by chance.  We did not come into this world without attachments.  Those family bonds created in the pre-mortal existence are simply added upon by our mortal experience.  Matthew and I find such joy in watching our grandchildren, some whom have never even met in this life, loving each other instantly, as though they are simply reuniting after a long absence.  



More children will be added to our family in this life in their own due time.  Between now and then, those spirits, while waiting for a mortal body, will be with family who have been through this life already.  My mother and daddy are their teachers, preparing them for what is to come, telling them about how lucky they are to be coming to us and we talk about how lucky we are to have them.  



We look forward to the day we will hold them in our arms...


...and welcome them into our family circle.


...into our arms to dance with us.

Perhaps no poem more eloquently expresses the yearning I have to once again be young with my mother watching over me than the following poem.  One cannot read it and not think lovingly of their own mother.

Rock Me to Sleep

by Elizabeth Akers Allen 

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,

Make me a child again just for tonight!

Mother, come back from the echoless shore,

Take me again to your heart as of yore;

Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,

Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;

Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—      

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!

I am so weary of toil and of tears,—      

Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—   

Take them, and give me my childhood again!

I have grown weary of dust and decay,—   

Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;

Weary of sowing for others to reap;—   

Rock me to sleep, mother – rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,

Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!

Many a summer the grass has grown green,

Blossomed and faded, our faces between:

Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,

Long I tonight for your presence again.

Come from the silence so long and so deep;—   

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,

No love like mother-love ever has shone;

No other worship abides and endures,—      

Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:

None like a mother can charm away pain

From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.

Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep;—      

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,

Fall on your shoulders again as of old;

Let it drop over my forehead tonight,

Shading my faint eyes away from the light;

For with its sunny-edged shadows once more

Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;

Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—   

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long

Since I last listened your lullaby song:

Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem

Womanhood’s years have been only a dream.

Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,

With your light lashes just sweeping my face,

Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—      

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

A time...

...to mourn and a time to fly kites.  I know I will continue with this mourning process that at times almost feels like an out of body experience, but...






...today was not a time for mourning...




...it was a time for letting the wind blow away the sadness...




...a time for flying kites, one of Grandma Great's favorite activities.

Sammie's pre-school teach told Danielle that Sam is the best jumper they have ever had.  Sammie was quite proud of herself and more than willing to show me her Show-and-Tell talent.

Grandma Great would have loved sitting on the porch and watching the fun.




...or maybe I should say it this way.




...today Grandma Great sat on a cloud and watched the fun.




...another happy thought.

Do they celebrate...

...birthdays in heaven?


If so, my dad celebrated his with my mom today.


That thought has made me smile more than once today.


...Happy Birthday Daddy.

How courageous...

...can I be?




The jury is out now.  Everyone has returned to their respective abodes and their normal routines.




Aubrey has the children back in school.  Andy flew back to Ohio taking Shay and their 4 little Coil's with him.  Michael has a big project due at work today and Erin is home with Emry and Amelia.  D. is back to juggling 3 toddlers and being pregnant while Jake starts his summer work schedule.  Lauren is P.E.'ing again with several hundred jr. high kids.  Matthew was in the temple last night and will be at work all day today.  I arranged to have the day off from work today, knowing I would be cleaning up from another Bush-Coil family party.




...tomorrow, even I will be back to the "same old, same old", answering phones and dealing with insurance companies.




By all outward appearances, life will be much the same, except...




...it is not.




People kept commenting on how brave I was.  Even I was surprised and impressed with how tough I was the past 2 weeks.  When mother really started to fail, I knew I had to focus on her and not take time to check out my own feelings.  Then, when she was gone, I had to take care of everyone else and make plans to give her the best going away party I could.




...but all that's over now.




The beautiful flower arrangements are starting to droop and drop petals, another reminder of how finite time is...




The wonderful food provided by my sweet Relief Society friends and neighbors has maxed out it's shelf life in the fridge...




Our "heart attacks" are falling off the door...




...the house is quiet...very quiet.




It was easy to be brave when I had everyone around to distract me and keep me focused on the living, but I'm not sure how courageous I will be when I'm home alone and I know her room sits empty?  Right now I may only be getting through this for the sake of everyone else.




...only time will tell how brave I truly am.




Then again, perhaps courage doesn't come because of how brave we are...



Maybe true courage comes from greeting sorrow and fear with joy and hope, because of prayers offered, food provided, hugs given and thoughts sent and if so, then I have no reason to fear my future.



...my only question is...




...how do I ever thank my family and friends for giving me something I never expected?




...the courage to keep on laughing, living and loving...


...for a time I was courageous for everyone else...




...now is the time to be brave because of everyone else.

...thank you to all my sisters for the many gifts of love.

Promises made...

...are promises kept.




My mother made certain covenants or promises with me and she kept all of them...




...except one that has yet to be fulfilled.




...but in time, I fully expect her to follow through on that one too.




I remember getting lost in the grocery store when I was a little girl, probably about 4 or 5 years old.  We were in Raiser's grocery store in Minneola.  There may have been 6 or 7 aisles with food on 3 or 4 of those shelves.  They had 1 small grocery cart, just my size, along with several more adult sized carts.  I use to take my doll with me and put her in the cart, following my mom from one aisle to another.  At some point I must have gotten distracted, probably with chocolate of one sort or another, and when I looked up, she was gone.




Gone? Gone where?  How far could she go in this one horse town grocery store?  It didn't matter how far she went, the problem was she was out of sight and my little 5 year old heart panicked.  I remember crying and yelling for her.  She immediately recognized the fear in my voice and came running around the end of the aisle to sweep me up in her arms...




...then all was right in my little universe again.


The most important thing she said to me afterward is something I have clung to this past week.  She promised me then and there that she would never, not ever leave me anywhere or at any time.  She promised.  She promised she would always, always come back for me.




...so now that she is gone from my sight I will miss her with a terribly homesick heart, but I know someday, somewhere, she will come back for me.




...then all will be right in my universe again.




Love you more!

Life goes on...

...at the swim meet last night before Matthew and I went to the temple.

Abbie making a statement!!!!

Isn't this a happy picture!!!

Preston's goggle broke just as he was getting ready for his race.  Goggles have been his nemesis.

The master evader of the camera.

I don't know how well she swam, but she sure looked cute.

Luke in sneak attack mode.

Best friends.

My brown eyed girl.

...and so life goes on.