last year, on my mission, my companion Sister Kitchen & I changed the words to the primary song "i often go walking" and sang it when we skyped.
I often go walking in meadows of clover,
And I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over;
Dear mother, all flowers remind me of you.
O Mother, I give you my love with each flower,
to give forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through;
For my love of the Savior, Mother, I thank you.
I learn how to love Him, dear Mother, from you<3
this year on mother's day Angela Kitchen is with her mom. this year i get to spend mother's day in my mom's home state (oregon) with my oldest brother and his family. i'm the luckiest girl in the world.
i wanted to do something special for mother's day so here is a portion of an essay i wrote in my english 2010 class this semester. we had to pick a word and write an essay embedding experiences from our life. i chose the word "healing" and wrote about several things, and closed it out with an updated version of this post. kind of the story of how she passed away and where i am now.
it's super special to me and sometimes i'm hesitant sharing it, but if it helps people come to terms with their losses and problems i am more than willing to share.
plus writing is my therapy, if you haven't picked that up already ;)
enjoy!
xoxo
happy mother's day mommy<3
It
was a beautiful warm sunny day in April. We had two weeks left until finals
then we were free to enjoy the summer. It was the Saturday before Easter and I
hadn’t planned to go home because I was coming home the next weekend for my best friends' farewell. My mom had already sent me an Easter package and everything;
she was always so thoughtful. My friend Matt and I had rented a cute puppy for
a few hours in the morning and I was wearing my new sundress.
Three hours later I received a call from my Dad
that I missed. I called back a few minutes later and to my surprise my sister
Rachael answered. The instant she started talking I knew something was wrong.
She sounded like she was crying. Rachael never cried. She struggled to get out
these words “there’s something wrong with Mom, we’re going to the hospital.”
Right then and there I started crying but tried to convince myself it was
probably just something to do with her diabetes and it was no big deal . . .
but I could hear my dad in the background.
Frustrated, raising his voice, and
panicked.
Rachael told me she would let me know what was going on when they
got to the hospital and found out more information. I hung up and just kind of
sat there, hugging my knees, crying. I was scared and flustered. I said about a
hundred prayers in my head. I got a few of my things together and planned to
start the two hour drive home.
As I was finishing up I got the following text
from Rachael: It is a heart attack,
they’re taking her to Utah Valley Regional.
I felt as though someone had
punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me. I began sobbing. Next
thing I knew I was in the car with my friend, Jeremy, headed to the hospital. The
whole ride is kind of a blur. I was crying so hard my head hurt. Jeremy kept
telling me that everything was going to be okay.
I remember saying over and
over “I don’t know what I’m going to do if my mom dies.”
We arrived at the hospital in an hour and
thirty seven minutes, Jeremy must have been speeding. He gave me a hug, wished
me luck, and I ran inside. I started walking down this long, eerily quiet,
empty hallway. I was wearing sandals and I remember them making a lot of noise.
It felt like the longest walk of my life. I rounded a corner and saw my brother
in law, Gavin, with red eyes and tears streaming down his face.
I knew, but I didn’t want to believe it.
Next, I saw my dad walking swiftly towards me
with the same look on his face. He put his arms around me and held me
close. Then he uttered the most heartbreaking thing he could have ever said, it
was one of those things you hear in movies and never think will actually happen
to you.
“Nell, I’m so sorry. The doctors did everything they could, but she
didn't make it”
I could barely stand up, I was hysterical, and I kept uttering “no . . . no . . . no . . .”
April nineteenth, two thousand fourteen was the
hardest day of my life. The days that followed went surprisingly well as my
family, friends, and neighbors came together. It was as if we could physically
feel all the prayers being said for us. We were lifted and we made it through
the funeral week feeling confident.
It was the next days and weeks that turned
into months that were heavy. I remember feeling like I was broken and that I
would never be that same smiling Nellie again. I have never had something cut
me to the core so deep. I went to a place I had never been before, nor do I
ever want to return; it was cold, dark, and depressing.
I missed her every day;
I even missed her nagging and frozen meals for dinner. I failed to wrap my head
around why it had to happen to my
family. What had we done to deserve this? There was a hole in my heart and it could not be filled, and oh boy, did it ache.
Now, just two years later, the hole
remains, but it doesn’t sting nearly as much as it did initially. Still, it
aches when friends complain about their mom bothering them about not spending
enough time together. It throbs as I
watch my friends get married and their mom is present to share the special day
with them. It stings when I think about my future kids and how they’ll never
know their Grandma Michele. This hole in my heart, it’s going to take a bit
longer to heal than my skateboard smashed pointer finger and fifteen year old breakup.
“Healing” meaning to
get well, mend, cure, the process of regaining health, or to make whole. They say healing is a process; it takes time, but how much time?
When will I be able to go through old pictures of my family without getting
teary eyed? When can I expect to tell inquiring friends about my mom without an
unforced smile pretending to be okay with it? How long will it take for me to entirely heal?
The
pain from a broken bone goes away eventually. The aching of losing someone you
love is ever present. I think that the hole in my heart will always be there,
but I also know that I’m healing. There will still be days that I fall apart
over the tiniest thing, but the pain is fading and it’s completely refreshing. There is a part of me that likes the hole, because it's a reminder of a sweet, caring, smiling mother who loves me and wants her little nellie girl to be happy. So maybe I'll keep the hole and I'll keep trying to be better.
