My husband took me to a concert last night. They played this song, one I hadn’t listened to prior to this concert, dedicating to those that have gone through loss.  It hit me pretty hard, but I think it was something I needed to hear - 

“Now the rest of my life without you

Right now it's hard to conceive

You said, "Don't cry for me now, you've got to remember

There is no death for those that believe" “

Sharing on behalf of Dad, David, 

Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer

Lyrics:

Jesus draw me ever nearer

As I labour through the storm.

You have called me to this passage,

And I'll follow, though I'm worn.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Jesus guide me through the tempest;

Keep my spirit staid and sure.

When the midnight meets the morning,

Let me love You even more.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Let the treasures of the trial

Form within me as I go -

And at the end of this long passage,

Let me leave them at Your throne.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Although Stacy was with us a 

relatively short period of time she packed more into that time than many who live much longer. She not only lived a full life herself, she caused those around her to live a fuller life also.  Much like her dad who succumbed to cancer at the age of 57, she packed a lot of living into the life she was given. Stacy was not a person to sit it out. . . she danced. 

“Hey Mom”

The moments, hours, or was it days, after was as though a fog had enveloped me. This strange, surreal place where there was the knowledge of what had transpired but it didn’t feel like it could be true. How could it be? From the minute I came into being, she was always there.

Each instance when I had to acknowledge in some way that it was true, the fog lessened. There was this strange part of my brain that thought maybe if I just didn’t say it or let it sink in, she would still be there. I didn’t want to say the words another time, I didn’t want the fog to clear and the reality to be there heavy and raw.

It comes in waves and at times unexpected. While there is relief that she is at peace and no longer in pain, thankfulness that we had three years that we might not otherwise had it not been for the treatments, there will always be a part of me that would never be ready for what it meant for her to no longer be physically here.

Mom had this beautiful, kind, and quirky energy. We laughed so much, so very much. She always had amusing ways of saying things, and was unapologetically herself. She gave so much to help others in addition to her devotion to Dad and the 4 of us crazy kids. The love and support she gave each of us in all that we pursued was felt deeply and likely ran deeper than we even knew. Beyond that, witnessing the joy she and her grandkids brought each other was truly a gift.

I admire her strength and her faith. She didn’t want a diagnosis to become what defined her and it didn’t. She made memories. She lived.

There are stories, memories, thoughts…so many. Her laugh, silly songs, nicknames, and funny ways of phrasing things. The little things that continue to trigger a smile or wave of emotion, and then the not so obvious things.

I realized just how much I used the phrase “Hey Mom” with her. It had different tones and inflections, but generally was a greeting. She’d answer with a sing-song “Hey.” It’s such a simple thing, but much was held in it. It was one of the last things I said to her. And the morning after she passed, I had one of those moments where I thought of something I wanted to go tell her and I started to go into the main part of the house and felt the words try to come out, “Hey Mom.” They caught in my throat as it hit me that the response now could only be a replay of her voice in my head.

Now I ride the waves of emotion when they wash over me. Appreciate the love and support of my family, friends, and all those that loved Mom. I see and feel her still in so many ways. And I still can’t help but to say “Hey Mom.”