I remember that week clearly. I remember the things I saw and the emotions I felt, ones that no eighteen-year-old should ever have to experience. It was in those four days of caring for her when the hospice care fell through that I realized the brokenness of this world that we live in more tangibly than any other time.
About twenty minutes after she passed, I moved into another room with my sister and my friend and random thoughts were buzzing through my brain at light-speed. Two of those thoughts stuck out sharply and I never forgot them. One was that from here on out, I knew that I would always have a difficult time on March 26th. The other was that my wedding day will be spotted with the heartbreak of wishing she were there.
It's interesting that I even thought of my wedding day in that moment, since I've been convinced most of my life that I would never get married. But I think the Lord was speaking to me even then, in the same way that He was speaking to me about marriage before I ever even met Danny.
And here I am, six years older, with a loving fiancé whom I will walk down the aisle to in a white dress four months from today.
That's right. Four month's from today. This anniversary of the worst day of my life is speckled with hope and excitement of the future. But that's what we always find in life, don't we? Mourning alongside of celebration, goodbyes alongside of hellos. The dark canvas of this broken world somehow looks full of hope when you notice the grace of God, bright and inviting.
Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death -- Genesis 24:67
I am grateful that God chose for these dates to align, grateful that He is lovingly beckoning me into a new life stage that is filled with eager anticipation. I love that my God knows how to comfort His daughter, and gives her gentle people to ease the pain of the past. I am grateful that He gave me a soon-to-be husband who taught me how to love again and broke down the walls I put up after my mom died.
But it is hard. And I miss her. And I know that on the day when I say, "I do," I'll be wishing it were my father and mother presenting me at the altar.
I wish she were here for the craziness of wedding planning, that is for sure. But more than that, I wish she were here as I prepare to become someone's wife. I wish she were here for me to ask her all of my questions about what that role is like.
I wish she were here as Danny and I dream about our family down the road and what it will be like to be parents. I wish she were here to tell me all about pregnancy and motherhood and the joys and pains that come with it.
I long for my mama to be here as I enter this new chapter of my life. I long for the one who read me bedtime stories and bandaged up my scraped knees, the one who comforted me when I was bullied in middle school and dealt with all of my teen angst. I wish I could go to the one who was there for the insight and guidance that I need, the one who raised me and loved me despite my flaws.
I wish my mom had met Danny, and that he had met her. I wish she were here to laugh with me about how similar Danny and my dad are, and how similar she and I are now that I'm an adult, and how similar our marriages will probably look.
I miss my mama, in a new way than before. In this new life stage, the heartbreak of missing her hurts different than before. It's not worse or less painful, just different.
I smile when they tell me I'm like you, Mama. Do you know that? I'm proud when I notice that in many ways I'm a little version of you, because I think you were pretty great. And I hope to be a loving wife like you, and a sweet, caring, dedicated mama like you were.
I will tell my children all about you. I will tell them how their grandmother loved the beach and that's why I decided to have a beach wedding. I will tell them how she loved detective things and will teach them to play Clue and read them mystery novels. I will introduce them to all of the classic Broadway musicals and sing my heart out with them around the house.
You'd like Danny, Mama. You'd be so happy that God brought me a man who loves me and cares for me and knows how to calm me down when I'm stressed over my busy schedule (that much hasn't changed...). You'd like how he fits right into the family and how his family deeply cares for me. You'd like how smart he is and gentle he is and how sweet he is to Kirsten. You'd like how he and Dad geek out over their computer programming world together.
You'd like how he cares for me like you used to.
Thanks for always being there. Thanks for being the best mama in the world. I hope that one day, my kids will look back and say the same things about me that I say about you.
I love you, Mom.
