Plans and Purpose

It is SO strange to see how life continues without all the plans my mom made for it.  Big things and little things.  My mom just graduated with her masters degree about a year ago.  She had these plans to put in a few more years where she worked and then retire and move on to a whole new adventure since she was so young, writing policies and what not.  It’s frustrating to me that she did all of this work and didn’t get to use it beyond the last year or two.

She was supposed to watch baby Nora when I went out of town for training on two different nights.  I was planning to stop by on my way out of town and leave far past when I was supposed to because I was going to catch her up on my week and hear about hers.

She had accepted invitations to events on Facebook, planning to support my little brother’s fundraiser for the fire station.

It’s hard for me to wrap my brain around the fact that we live our life expecting to see the next day every single day, and then one day we don’t have any more opportunities to fulfill our plans or our obligations.

It leaves me asking myself what the point of a lot of things is.  Not that I think life is pointless, but more that I don’t want to waste my time on frivolous things.  It makes me want to pursue and achieve my dreams as soon as I can, and fulfill the purpose that I believe I’ve been designed especially for.

More than ever, it makes me want to make each day count, and to constantly strive for that which is greater than me.


Two Weeks

It’s been two weeks tonight that my mom died quietly, painlessly, and very suddenly at home.  I got the call from my dad at approximately 11:09 p.m.  I thought I was being sleep dialed accidentally, and when I heard my dad struggle to find words, I thought maybe he’d woken from a dream and was being very sentimental.

Earlier that night, he had texted me to tell me how much he loved me, something sweet that happens occasionally.  But then he delivered the incredibly unexpected news and began a chain of events that have already begun redefining who I identify myself to be.

I had my moment to freak out, called my husband so I could center myself, called my best friend to watch our baby so I could go figure out what to do.  It was very interesting that with everything mom taught me how to do, she never taught me how to deal with the death of any of our family members, because there hasn’t been a lot of death around us.

I think it’s very interesting how calm you can become when it feels like it’s your responsibility to do so.  Being the oldest of the three of us, my role definitely felt more like the protector and the person who needed to not only have it together, but keep it together.  Somebody needed to take notes, make decisions, remember facts from the coroner and the funeral home and whatever else there was to do.  It automatically felt like my responsibility, which is not a complaint, just how it felt.

I wasn’t sure if I could handle seeing mom.  I had this terrible vision of her in pain, sad looking, hunched over or hurt.  I didn’t have any details about how she died, and we still only speculate that it was a brain aneurysm.  I was very afraid that my mind would picture her correctly and I’d never be able to un-see a tragic, terrible, scene.  But, how thankful I was that I did see her.  I was distraught, and I’ll never forget my husband holding on to me as we knelt down beside her, but I was so at peace.  She looked beautiful, peaceful, relaxed.  She looked like she just laid down and fell asleep, and I was so thankful for that reassurance.  Instead of being something I was scared I couldn’t un-see, it is something I hope I will never forget.

I’ve learned, observed, and realized a lot of things since then.  Many things I’d like to share here, but for this post, I will leave these memories here and build from them.

If you’re a guest and you found this post in a search, I don’t know how much help I can offer you by way of one on one discussion, but I hope over the next several weeks, months, and years, I can provide you some words of encouragement.