Tombstone shopping and soul searching

As I left school last Friday for Spring Break, the teacher's lounge was a buzz of "What are you doing for spring break??"  As conversations drifted towards talk of Cabo, Texas, Vegas, and other wonderful destinations, my mind went to where I would be:  Ollie, Iowa.  Don't get me wrong, I've spent a break or two in my hometown.  While I much prefer the sun of Arizona or the beaches of Mexico, going HOME to see family was never something I looked down upon.  This would be a break like no other though.  Unlike the original plan of spending my 2011 Spring Break with my momma, loving on our new beautiful child, God had other plans for every aspect of my life.  First and foremost, we would NOT have a beautiful new child to show off and love.  Our baby was not able to develop fully and will never be welcomed into our family on this earth as we once planned for.  Likewise, my mother was taken from this earth.  Hence, this painfully "new" spring break experience:  Tombstone shopping and soul searching.

Arriving in Ollie on Sunday, March 27, my dad immediately whisked me away to our first cemetery.

The goal:  Gather ideas to plan for and purchase mom's tombstone.
The outcome:  An overwhelming sea of grief, loss, life, and reflection.

As I walked through rows and rows of stones in various cemeteries across Southeastern Iowa, I pondered the names before me.  I did the quick math in my head as I figured up the number of years the people below me walked this earth.  When those years were in the single digits, my eyes filled with tears.  How could it be that children were taken from their parents?  From siblings who wanted to play, from grandparents who wanted to hug, from a world that was filled with options?  I read inscription after inscription of angels above us, lives touched, and promises to never forget.  I looked at pictures and engravings, poems and scriptures,

I read each name and couldn't help but think about the human being behind the name.  I wonder what each person's story is.  Who loved them?  Who did they love?  Where were their hopes? Their dreams?  Their fears?  Their regrets?  How did they spend their last day on this earth?  Did they know the end was near?

Beyond the physical appearance of a tombstone, of choosing the size and the shape and the font, was the emotional appearance.  How can we convey to a stranger walking through rows of stones 50 years from now that my parents were loved, treasured, and appreciated?  That they were the most important people in my brothers and my's life.  How can we get someone to stop and reflect upon the lives that they touched?  And how on earth can you get these memories to fit on a 42" x 36" slab of stone??

I have said it before and I will say it again.  You live life based on the perspective that you have been given.  While my perspective hasn't always allowed me to remain optimistic that the world is full of sunshine and roses, my soul searching has pushed me to REMEMBER that optimism is an option.  My reality is that I lost a good friend to a sledding accident in 1st grade.  My first brush with the finality of death was when I was 6 years old :(  One year later, my mom was diagnosed with cancer for the first time.  I was told that if I touched mom when I had a cold, she could die.  No sooner than I understood her to be "better" from cancer, she had it again.  I was scared to touch her.  From there, I lost my first grandparent at the age of 10.  This showed me that not only did I never get to see that person again, but it changed the adults in my life as well.  It made them sad a lot and events like Christmas that were always "fun" were now marked with tears.    I was in a horrible accident in high school which left me with focal retrograde amnesia.  I understood that despite the problems I faced, I was blessed to survive.  In the Spring of 2000, one of my best high school friends was killed in a motorcycle accident.  I said my goodbyes to him amongst tubes and equipment in a cramped cold hospital room in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, surrounded by an entire community who drove to the hospital without thought upon hearing the news.  My mom's third reoccurence of cancer shattered my world, but in the first "happy ending" story, she kicked cancer's butt once again.  I have gone on to say goodbye to a grandma, and my last remaining grandpa.  Both were amazing people and held special places in my heart.  One would think after all of this heartbreak, I would be ready to face anything.  Nothing could have prepared me for the devastation on and since February 2, 2011, however.  Those events have pushed me to the darkest place imaginable.

Do I consider myself unlucky?  Yes.  Do I ever wonder if I have been cursed?  Of course.  Am I angry at the way the cookie has crumbled.  DEFINITELY.  Despite it all, do I acknowledge that there are far more GOOD things in my life than bad?  Absolutely.  I give my mom 100% credit for that realization, but it isn't always easy.  It comes much  more naturally for me to dwell on the bad and dramatize the "woa is me" attitude.  My mother has spent her whole life instilling in me that "things happen for a reason" and shown me the importance of positivity.  I whole heartedly believe that her amazing spirit helped her sustain her life while cancer ravaged through her body.  So each day, as hard as it is, I tell myself that I need to breathe, to walk, to continue to LIVE.  That is what mom did no matter the pain she was going through, and that is what I must do, even if I need to physically drag my butt out of bed and force myself through the motions of living until I am ready.

The tombstone shopping has forced me into soul searching.  While I am devastated about only getting to spend 29 years with the person who means the most to be on this earth, I am looking at the dates on tombstones and am thankful for each second that made up those 29 years. I could have lost  mom when I was in second grade and she was first diagnosed.  Instead, I was lucky enough to be raised by her.  She was able to see me get married and love my first child.  There is a saying that says "It is not the number of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breaths away."  In regards to my mom's life, I can easily say the latter strongly outweighed the first.

Here is what I can report from the tombstone shopping:  We designed the most beautiful tombstone!  It will be a testament to my parent's love for one another and the life that they shared.  I am very anxious to see the finished product and show pictures.  It will be amazing.

Here is what I can report from the soul searching:  I AM BLESSED.  That is it.  That is where my focus should be, and where I will try to keep my mind.  Instead of focusing on the future times I will not share with those who have passed, I will hold the many wonderful memories close.  Instead of crying over the "never going to happens" in life, I will smile about the opportunities I have been blessed with.  I will continue to cry, continue to have questions, and continue to have moments where I feel as though my chest is closing.  I will also continue to live, to love, and to laugh.