Not Gone. And Not Forgotten.

On Sunday, April 3, 2016 at 9:00 am I met my daughter Joni and her family at my sister’s house.  We were there to visit my mom who had just come home from the hospital the day before.  I took a photo of Joni’s family next to the bed where my mom lay.  She visited with us and seemed like she was in such a good place.  She commented on how well the doctors and nurses had treated her in the hospital.  The visit was short, but sweet.

At noon I returned to visit my mom with my other daughter Lisa, and her family.  Mom seemed a little more distressed at this visit.  She was reaching toward the window when we arrived and asked me to open it.  Still, she was very conversant and happy and seemed to be very peaceful. 

That night at about 9:00 I started communicating with my sister about my mom.  She informed me that mom was having a very hard time breathing.  After a few texts back and forth I asked her, “should I come over?”  Her answer floored me.  “If you want.  I don’t think she’ll be here in the morning.” 

Of course I went right over.  My mom was already gone.  Her body was still there, heart beating, lungs breathing and tissues living, but I could tell at first glance that the essence of my mom was gone. I arrived at around 10.  She died right before midnight.

I think you always look back at situations like this and think of things that you should have done differently.  One thing that I regret is not letting all my kids know about their grandmother’s death sooner.  I sent a text.  I think part of me just couldn’t deal with physically speaking the words.

But because I just sent a text we had a sweet little experience.  The next day I was talking to Lisa and she told me a story.  She was in bed asleep and a few minutes after midnight her boys both started laughing and talking.  Lisa just laid in bed hoping they would go back to sleep, which they eventually did.  The next morning when Lisa got up she saw my text and realized that Grandma Haroldsen must have been the one who woke up the boys.  She just stopped by on her way out to say goodbye.

Another sweet blessing came on Tuesday morning.  My niece’s 2 year old daughter came crying into my niece’s bedroom.  “Someone was here,” she said. The mom asked who and her daughter said, “Grandma Haroldsen.  And she said she lives in heaven now and had to go.”  Then the 2 year old started to cry because she missed her.   

Some things happened when my dad died.  I had 4 or 5 dreams that were especially significant and kind of surprising.  But things also happened when I was awake and just living my life.  The TV I was watching would randomly keep changing channels, when washing my hands in a public bathroom the drying towels dispenser would suddenly turn on and spew out paper towels, lights would flicker on and off when I was trying to paint.  One morning when I had just awoken I felt my dad’s hands pat me on top of my head, just like he used to do. One day while standing in the kitchen with my sister and talking about dad, a fake bunch of flowers fell off the top shelf of a bookcase and landed right between us.  In each instance I immediately knew it was dad. 

I’m not sure if I’ll have those same kinds of experiences with my mom now that she’s passed, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

We may not be able to see them, but they are not gone.

I can't wait until I see them. 

Exhaustion

I must have been exhausted!

This morning I looked at a little sign and thought I saw my name.  I told my mom that I didn't know my name was on that sign and she said it wasn't.  I looked again and I couldn't find my name anywhere.  I tried tilting it every which way, to get an angle where I could see my name again.  Every time I tilted the sign I saw different words.  I thought that was really odd and put the sign down and just sat there puzzled.  Then it hit me.  I was dreaming!

I woke up and started getting out of bed.  I saw something move across the floor and little kitty pounced after it.  I thought, "oh great, a mouse!"  Only when I really opened my bleary eyes I could see that it wasn't a mouse, but a spider.  I got a stick and whacked it.  Then I saw another spider over in the other corner.  I whacked that and then I saw that I must have hit a spider egg sack because there were hundreds of tiny spiders all pouring out.  I thought I'd better hurry and get the vacuum cleaner to suck them all up before they disappeared under everything. I'm not afraid of spiders, so I didn't mind.  I started vacuuming and vacuuming.  I kept thinking I got them all, but then I'd see more.   I couldn't figure out where all the spiders were coming from, and then I realized I was still dreaming.

I woke up and got out of bed and walked out into the living room.  Mike was out there and he showed me some improvements he had made to the house.  There was an added kitchen on the back of our kitchen that was just for catering.  I was puzzled about why we needed another kitchen because I didn't want to do any catering. Then I saw that this kitchen was set up for my friend's catering business.  Her name was even engravened on the stop top.  I, of course, realized I was still dreaming and tried to get up. 

It was like I was stuck in a dream warp.  I would see another scene that didn't make any sense, realize I was dreaming and then try to wake up only to immediately find myself in another dream scene.  I finally was able to open my eyes and stumble out of bed.  I've been up for an hour and I'm just now starting to feel awake.

What Dreams May Come...

I had a dream Saturday night.

I am the ward chorister. Every week I get up in Sacrament meeting and lead the hymns. I'm always a little bit nervous about it cause I'm not the best at it.

In my dream I arrived early as I usually do and went up to the front to post the hymn numbers on the display. All the numbers were ripped up, wrinkled and ratty. Some of the numbers had been replaced with torn pieces of lined loose-leaf paper with a big number scribbled on with a blue ball point pen. I was horrified but did my best to make the hymn page numbers look nice on the wall.

Then I went over to the music stand to adjust it to the height I like. As I pulled on it the top just pulled right off. It just totally fell apart in my hands. I tried to put it back the best I could. I had to hurry because the meeting was about to start.

When I stood up to lead the opening hymn I raised my baton ready to start. To my horror the end of the baton was all bendy and flopped around like a dead fish. I decided to use it anyway. I kept trying to make the best of every problem that arose. I just kept thinking, this is okay, I can deal with this.

As I brought my arm down to start the hymn and the congregation started to sing, I heard the choir behind me. They were following the choir director and were singing a totally different song. It was a chaotic awful sounding mess.

I was glad when I woke up and found out church hadn't started yet.

I arrived early, the numbers were crisp and new, the stand didn't break, my baton was stiff, and the congregation sounded harmonious and unified, and there was no choir.

Whew.

Just Start

I was in a group of people. We were waiting. I had a pencil and a pad of paper with me. I looked around. There were some very interesting faces. They hardly moved as we waited. I started to draw. It felt pretty good. It's been a long time since I've drawn anything. I was quite startled to realize that what I was drawing was really good! I thought to myself, "why haven't I been drawing for so long? I'm pretty dang good at it!" The faces were captured on my pad, one after another.

The waiting ended. I hurriedly put away my pad and pencil and stood up.

and then I woke up.

I think it was a sign. I need to start drawing again, whether I feel like it or not.

So tonight, after cleaning up another vomit mess and feeling drained that after a week my son was still sick, I went in the studio.

I got out my pad, and my pencil, and I started to draw.

and I thought to myself, "why haven't I been drawing for so long? I'm pretty dang bad at it!..........but I'll get better."

And you know what? It felt pretty dang good.