10 Years

Today marks the ten-year anniversary of my mom's death. The word 'anniversary' seems to connote something way happier than the commemoration of 10 years without my mom, but I'm not really sure how else to say it.

In the past, I've described on this blog the circumstances of my mom's death, so I won't go into that today. Let's just say it was sudden, unexpected and devastating. To that point in my life, it was by far the most difficult thing I had ever had to face.

Following my mom's death, I began writing in a grief journal. At first, I wrote in it often. It was a place where I could pour out my heart...where I didn't have to justify or apologize for any of my feelings of grief.

In this blog post today, I will share some of the entries I wrote during the month or so after Mom died.

That first day, March 21, 2004, after spending much of the day in Brigham City with my brother and sister making arrangements for our mother's funeral, I wrote the following:

"It was such a difficult, exhausting day. While we were at the mortuary making decisions, choosing the casket, etc., I kept thinking how unreal it all seemed. It's still so hard to believe this has happened. I don't know how I'm going to go on without her. I miss her so much. I love her so much and am so grateful for all she has done for me. I know she is in Jesus' arms now and that she is having a joyful reunion with her loved ones who went before. I wish I could have just a glimpse or a small feeling of the joy they are feeling now because all I keep thinking about is the great loss we have had on this side of the veil today."

A few days later was her funeral.

March 25, 2004

Today was Mom's funeral, and right now I feel so sad and empty I can hardly stand it. Jan, Lance and I all spoke at the funeral. Patricia played a piano solo and all the grandchildren sang, "Families Can Be Together Forever." It was a sweet service, but very painful to get through. I have cried so much over the past few days, it would seem I would have no more tears left. But I do. I feel like there's this huge sadness, even an anxiety hanging over me, and it feels like it's never going to go away."

One really hard thing as the days passed after Mom's death was having to turn the calendar from March to April. It was so hard to think we were heading into a new month...a month in which she would no longer be with us.

April 1, 2004

"So many times I have heard that grief subsides over time. But for me as the days go by, it seems to intensify to some degree because it means I'm one day further away from the last time I saw Mom. Someone who Jan knows, who has also lost her mother, said you never really get over your grief, but you get used to it. I miss Mom every day, every minute. I mourn over the fact that she left so suddenly and that we didn't get to say goodbye. Did she have any inkling when she saw us, that she would be leaving this earth soon? When her moment of death came, did she go quickly? Was she afraid? Did she realize what was happening? Was she in pain? I hope she passed to the other side quickly and that her dear loved ones were there to welcome her home. Does she miss us? We have our testimonies and our knowledge of the Plan of Salvation, but that doesn't make the separation any easier. My heart aches. I want to have her back. My children struggle to make sense of their loss. I know I need to explain to them and comfort them, but I am struggling to come to terms with it myself."

As the days went on, I wasn't crying non-stop anymore, but sometimes I wished I could.

April 6, 2004

"Time keeps going by, and I find myself missing my mom more every day. When she died, I cried and cried. Now, I don't cry as much, but sometimes I wish I could because crying is such a release. Sometimes I feel like there's all this hurt and pain and emotion pent up inside me with no way to get out. It's just kind of a constant pain. My heart hurts. I had a dream last night that we were at her funeral all over again. It made me wake up with an incredibly lonely, empty feeling. I miss her so much, and it's so hard to think of all the things we will have to go through and not have her here with us. There are so many holidays we will celebrate without her. Will we ever be able to have joy in them again? It doesn't feel like it now. Easter is coming up this Sunday, and I can hardly bear the thought of going through it without her here. I keep wondering why she had to be alone when she died. Why couldn't it have happened when she was here with us or at the senior center or even when she was at Wal-mart? Why couldn't we have been there with her? I don't know if I will ever get over the awful reality that she was alone and that so much time went by before we knew she was gone. (Note...it was a couple of days between the last time any of us talked to her and when we found out she had died of what appeared to be a massive heart attack. She lived alone about 45 minutes from me. One of her neighbors called me and was worried because she had newspapers on her porch, her car was in the driveway, but she didn't answer the door or phone). Why didn't any of us have a spiritual prompting that she was gone? Could we have helped her? I really don't think we could have saved her life, but at least we could have been there at the time when her spirit left her body. Why did she have to be alone? It seems so unfair. So many things about her life were unfair, and the last thing she went through seems unfair. I know that once her spirit left her body she was fine, but what about in the interim as she was dying. Oh, I hope she passed quickly and didn't suffer. I search for strength and comfort, but it seems fleeting. I feel so often to be overwhelmed with grief. Why do I have to go through the rest of my earthly life without my mom? I need her. I want her to be with me. Sometimes, you just need your mom. I need mine, but I can't have her. I don't know how I can go on without her. Lance and I are going headstone shopping. Jan is in St. George for Spring Break. How awful it will be to see her name etched in stone. How final. How certain. How real it will seem that she is truly gone."

Another difficult task following my mom's death was cleaning out her house. She lived in the house where she grew up. My grandparents bought the house in 1945 and they lived there until they died. Mom lived with my grandpa the last few years before his death.

April 9, 2004

"Today, Jan, Lance and I went to Mom's and began the monumental task of cleaning out the house. We have a long ways to go, but we did get a start. Mom owned more clothes and shoes than I've seen anyone own in my life. We probably filled 15-20 bags of clothes and shoes that we hauled to the D.I. It was incredible, really, and very depressing, I thought, when we dropped it all off there. I thought how sad it is that now we just cast off her earthly possessions to the D.I. It made me think how truly insignificant all our earthly possessions are. It really makes no difference whatsoever the things my mom owned in this life. She certainly couldn't take it with her. On the contrary, she had to leave it all behind for us to deal with it. Jan and I dropped some lilacs from Jan's lilac bush to Mom's grave. Mom loved lilacs. We still have so much work to do. It's quite overwhelming to think of it. It seems like we're just going through the motions of all this and then when we're done, she'll come back. Of course, Jan pointed out, if she did come back she would be really mad that we got rid of all her stuff."

Weeks went by and we continued the process of cleaning out Mom's house. It was a big job, full of emotions.

April 25, 2004

"I miss my mom every day. I dream about her every night. I always wake with an empty feeling that I was near to her in my dreams, but once I'm awake, she is gone again. I continue to mourn the fact that we didn't get to say goodbye. She was taken from us so suddenly. I still picture her house the first time we went there after her death. It was still so full of her presence and existence. Dirty dishes in the sink. Her toothbrush in the bathroom. Her purse on her bed. As we have been cleaning out, Jan said yesterday, "Parts of the house are starting to echo. This house has never echoed before." I hate that. I feel like we're taking the heart out of the home as we disassemble the house. My grandparents moved into that house when my mom was 3 years old. They lived there their entire lives after that. It's never been vacant, until now. I makes me sad to think someone new will live there soon. It makes me sad to think of how, little by little, we're erasing the physical evidences of my mom and grandparents being there."

Although my grief journal was just that...a place to grieve...it was also a place where I expressed my faith and testimony.

"Been reading in the book, 'The Gift of Eternal Life', which the bishopric gave to me. In it Orson F. Whitney said this, "Out of the tragedies of life issue our greatest blessings. There is compensation for every calamity. Not more surely does day follow night, than does joy succeed sorrow, and blessing follow blighting." I hope he's right about that, although I wonder how blessings will come from the loss of Mom. Although I can see one blessing: a strengthening of the bonds between Jan, Lance and I. That truly is a blessing for which I am grateful."

And one more entry for now.

April 27, 2004

"It's been over a month since we bid farewell to Mom. How can it be true? I feel the pain so deeply every day. I wonder if I will ever be able to feel true happiness again. To laugh wholeheartedly without feeling that catch in my heart. I truly understand the meaning of the phrase, 'heavy heart'. I live with a heavy heart every day. It's more than an emotion. It's a physical sensation. I feel it weighing down my chest. It makes me want to stop whatever I'm doing and, I don't know what...cry, scream, go crazy. It's so difficult."

And now, here I am on March 21, 2014. Ten years ago, I wasn't sure how I was going to face each day and move on without my mom. It was hard. Very hard. It still is sometimes. I miss her. I wish she could be here for all our family parties, holiday celebrations, and just days when we're hanging out together. I'm sad that my children were so young when she died and that she has missed out on so much of their lives. And yet, I know, she has been there with us in spirit at those important occasions.

Yesterday, Jan and I went to lunch, and we talked about the fact that it's been 10 years since Mom's death. I asked her, "What should we do to commemorate?" For a few minutes, we shared memories and tears and sadness. Then Jan said, "What we should do is celebrate. We should celebrate because we made it. Back then, we didn't know how we were going to be able to do it. But somehow we did. So, good for us."

Yes, good for us. Of course I still wish Mom was here and I miss her so much sometimes that it stops me in my tracks. But I am so grateful that she is my mom. I love her with all my heart. I am grateful for the love she gave me...unconditionally and always. 

And I know that one day we will be reunited because families are forever.

This post is dedicated to my angel mother: Diana Kay Jensen Hammerland 1942-2004