I didn’t know why, but for over a week, I just hadn’t felt like myself.
Then the reason popped into my head.
Ten years.
Ten. Years.
TEN YEARS.
This August 15th marked the ten-year anniversary of Grandma’s passing.
Ten years without the person who loved us all the most.
Ten years without the grandmother who would listen to your stories for hours, who thought everything you did was incredible and who either called or saw you every day for your entire life.
Ten years without the mother who thought most of my ideas were crazy but who supported me anyway, who I knew I could count on to help me whenever I asked, and whose unconditional love for me I never doubted for a second.
Ten years without daily phone calls, chats over coffee, or having her attend every single event in our lives from birthdays to school functions to karate gradings to recitals.
Ten years without our mother and grandmother…our constant…our rock.
How in the world has it been ten years?
Grandma and Cassie
In the tumultuous world of grieving, I still think about her every day. I still wish she would call. I still wish she was here for every birthday party and holiday. I still cry if I let myself dwell for too long on all the incredible things she’s missed.
Grandma and Colton
I heard the song “Alive and Breathing” for the first time at our dance recital two years ago and one line resonated with me so thoroughly that I still think about it all the time. It said “Hope still walks with the hurting.”
Four days after Grandma’s passing, with tears still a constant threat, we welcomed your baby sister into the world and Alyssa became our beacon of hope. Hope for more love, hope for more joy to come, hope for laughter to fill our house once again.
Though our eyes were still filled with tears, our lips smiled, and we praised the Lord for blessing us with this tiny miracle to help mend our broken hearts. We ached knowing she would never know Grandma’s love, but we promised each other she would know how much Grandma already loved her, before she was even born.
Ten years later and Grandma’s name is still spoken often throughout our house. “Grandma would have said this…” and “Grandma would have loved this…” and of course “Grandma would have been so proud of you.”
We are still hurting. The pain of missing someone so crucial in our lives will never go away. Grief never ends, it only changes over time – moving from a searing, stabbing pain to a duller ache that will equally bring you to tears should you focus on it.
“Hope still walks with the hurting.”
We move forward.
We move forward with the questions we wished we’d asked, the pictures and videos we wished we’d taken (despite her protests!), and the memories we cherish.
We thank the Lord for the time she spent here on Earth. We thank Him for giving us the most loving and devoted mother and grandmother.
Her love lives on in my devotion to you. I am the mother I am because of her love for me. And one day, when you are blessed with children of your own, you will carry on this pattern of love and devotion.
In everything, we praise the Lord.
We praise Him for our countless blessings – for the love we shared, for the memories we have, and for the people we’ve become because of her.
When I was a child, there were many times I accompanied Mom and Dad to wakes and funerals for the oldest members of our family. It was common to hear such expressions as “they lived a good, long life” and “it was their time”. I understood, even at a young age, that when people get older, they start to slow down, and eventually they pass away.
I think what made Uncle Gerald’s passing so hard was that, even at the age of 79, he didn’t seem to be slowing down yet. So, in my mind, he had many years left to live.
And unexpected deaths are always the hardest for a heart to handle.
Uncle Gerald was a constant in our lives. From the time you were little, we could expect to see him first thing in the morning on every holiday and birthday and he always came bearing gifts for everyone. I knew the phone would ring during hunting season as he checked in to see if Colton had shot a deer yet and he always laughed with pride at the stories I’d share.
Ever since I was a little girl, Uncle Gerald and I had shared a special bond. Mostly, I think, because we were born on the same day. And not just any day – but Groundhog Day. A day that is quite insignificant to most people but special to us and I can’t tell you how many birthday cards I got from him that were addressed to “Groundhog Girl” – everything written in capital letters.
He would always arrive early on our shared day, and we would exchange cards and gifts, often with lottery tickets included, though neither of us ever won anything.
Uncle Gerald was my main connection to the rest of the family on Dad’s side. Grandma Barber had 10 children, so I was blessed with a lot of cousins. Twenty-six, in fact. And Uncle Gerald was the best at keeping in touch with everyone and then delivering their news to the rest of us. Despite not having seen many of my cousins in twenty years or more, I knew their children’s names and ages and what they were up to – who had graduated, who got a new dog, who loved to hunt and even who had “put on the beef”. He didn’t just keep track of ages – he could tell me each person’s birthday as well.
There was never one ounce of judgement or negativity in the updates – it was simply the news on what everyone else was doing and it made me feel connected still, even though distance and busy lives kept most of us apart.
I’d also get updates on how trapping had been lately, where the deer were feeding, and how his garden was coming along. I didn’t realize until now how much our chats fulfilled me – they brought back so many happy memories from my childhood and bridged that gap between who I was and who I am now, making sure that little girl was still a big part inside of me.
It wasn’t very long ago that he was here, helping Grandpa Barber take down two huge cedar trees near our driveway. I watched them rope the trees and drop them and then Uncle Gerald came back another day to cut up the logs and haul away the wood. Hard work, but that was what he liked.
When he suddenly wasn’t feeling well and was admitted to the hospital, I was grateful they transferred him to the Kingston General Hospital. Now you could stop in to see him before and after your shifts and provide me with detailed updates on how he was doing. Grandpa was great at sending me the updates he got from Uncle Delbert, but I wanted your opinion on his condition even more. I was so glad he got to see you in his last days.
It’s difficult to think that I won’t see his truck pulling into the driveway early on Christmas Eve morning or that I’ll be celebrating my birthday without him next year.
The sound of his voice is still clear in my head, and I hope it stays there for a long time.
Grieving is the hardest thing we do in this life. But it serves as an excellent reminder to be grateful each day for the time we spend with family and friends because sharing our love with others is the greatest gift God gives us.
Today marks the anniversary of the day Grandma passed away. Eight years. It’s still hard to believe she is no longer with us, but even more remarkable is that so many years have now passed. They say when someone significant in your life dies, time seems to separate into two parts – the years before and the years after. This is even more easily captured for us since Alyssa was born just 4 days after Grandma passed away. So, if an event had Alyssa in it, then we know it didn’t have Grandma.
This is a hard realization for many reasons.
When Grandma found out I was pregnant with Alyssa, she was mad. And I mean, mad. Anyone who knew Grandma knew she wasn’t shy about sharing her opinions. Or about sharing the fact that she always knew best. You don’t know what you should be doing? Ask Grandma, she’ll tell you in a heartbeat. In fact, normally, you didn’t even need to ask.
I believe this was around 1975.1977
She had many valid reasons for thinking I shouldn’t have another child at that time – I mean, after all, I was 37 years old and there would be fourteen years between Colton and this new baby. But God had put it on my heart that I had love to spare, and one thing I have always done (much to Grandma’s dismay, usually) was follow my heart.
The fact that she was mad didn’t bother me all that much. I mean, I didn’t like it, she lived in the granny suite we had set up for her in our house, so I saw her disapproving look a lot, but I knew she’d get over it. After all, she had been upset both other times I’d announced I was pregnant.
When I shared the news that I was pregnant with my first baby, she thought I was too young. The fact that I was already married and had graduated college didn’t seem to matter – I was twenty-one years old, which made her a grandmother at 43. It didn’t take her long to come around though and before I knew it, she was shopping like her life depended on it and showering us with gifts. She was already on her way to becoming the most devoted grandmother ever.
Cassie’s 3rd BirthdayGrandma and ColtonGrandma introducing Cassie to her new baby brother!
Three months before Cassie was born, Grandma sold her house and moved to an apartment that was only fifteen minutes from my house, rather than the hour away she was before. And before Colton was born, she bought a house on my road. I pushed the double stroller down that gravel road to visit her many times.
She called multiple times each day and never let more than a couple of days go by between visits. She loved to keep Cassie and Colton overnight and as I’d find out later, they would be treated to “coffee” with her in the morning. Apparently, this was a tiny smidgen of coffee with a healthy dose of milk and sugar. Looking back, I realize all she had at her house to play with was this ridiculously small grocery bag that contained a couple of toys. They were pulled out of the closet at almost every visit and never played with. Toys weren’t needed when Cassie and Colton had her undivided attention. Cassie would share stories about her friends and Colton would talk about how he couldn’t wait until he was old enough to drive, and they’d often discuss how badly he wanted to be taller than his older sister.
When I found out I was pregnant with Colton, Grandma wasn’t happy again. Her best friend had spaced her children out five years apart so that one would be in school before the other was born, and Grandma had decided that was a great idea. I didn’t like it. I wanted my children to be close enough in age to play together. Whether it was really that, or just the fact that she wasn’t consulted in the decision, I’ll never know.
Either way, she never stayed mad for long as her love for her grandchildren was much too strong. And even though she eventually came around when I was pregnant with Alyssa, I knew she still thought I had made a bad decision. I tried not to dwell on it. In a few short months, she would be holding her newest grandchild and I knew her heart would be lost all over again, and any thought that this pregnancy was a bad idea would be forgotten. I could be patient. I’d been there before, and I could wait for this moment.
Unfortunately, that moment never came.
It was a Thursday morning when Grandma called an ambulance because the pain in her back had become unbearable and she was unable to walk. I quickly rescheduled my day, so I didn’t have to work, and brought Cassie with me to the emergency room. We stayed with Grandma for a while, and then left to return home to collect a few of her things, as she was being admitted. That afternoon, I sat on the end of her hospital bed while a nurse sat next to her with a computer, asking questions and collecting a full medical history.
The nurse asked me how far along I was, and when I replied, “Nine months” Grandma and I laughed at the nurse’s shocked expression. I was feeling good. I was due in five days. I was sure that Grandma would be released in a day or two, and I couldn’t wait to share this baby with her.
As it was, having Grandma live in an apartment below our house had been amazing. We each had our separate spaces, but it was so simple to bring my coffee downstairs in the morning once I heard her up and about. And she was well known for being a tiny person who somehow walked like an elephant, so I always knew when she was up. I ran a daycare out of my home at that time, and most mornings I would be in the backyard with the kids and Grandma would come out and sit next to me. We would chat as we watched the little ones play. When Cassie and Colton got home from school, they would run to share the details of their day with Grandma. She was always ready to listen to them for as long as they wanted to talk.
Envisioning a new baby in our house was easy. I could picture myself bringing the baby down with me in the morning, so we could both cuddle and adore her as we drank our coffee. I pictured myself giving the baby a bath in the evening, putting some adorable little sleepers on her, and then bringing her down for bedtime kisses. Instead of waiting for Grandma to drive to our house, I could simply bring the baby to her, anytime she wanted. And that was if she wasn’t already upstairs at our house, which seemed more likely.
It was going to be perfect.
The call from the hospital at 7am the next morning surprised me. She had had a bad night, her blood pressure had dropped to almost nothing and they were not hopeful she would wake up. I sat next to her bed, holding her hand, as the dreams I’d been hanging on to for the last nine months slowly fizzled away.
Before noon, she was gone.
Eight years. Eight years without the mother who loved me more than anything, even if she claimed I drove her crazy sometimes – usually when we didn’t agree on something I’d decided to do, like the time she found out I’d signed up for the Polar Bear Plunge – but that’s a story for another day.
Before heading out to my high school formal.I think this is around 1990.
I spent a lot of time wishing she could have held Alyssa just once – that my dream of seeing her fall in love with her newest granddaughter would have been fulfilled. But even more than that, after eight years, I’m just sad that you and Alyssa never got to experience her love. Cassie and Colton were spoiled with her devotion, and this is something you and Alyssa will never know. Now, I realize you don’t yearn for what you never had, but I do. I know how absolutely in love she would have been with the two of you. My heart aches for what you don’t even know you’re missing.
You and Alyssa ask about her often, which makes me happy. I love sharing stories about Grandma, and Cassie and Colton are quick to jump in and share their memories too. She’s still very much a part of our lives, even if she’s no longer here with us.
Grandma would have loved so much to see her older grandchildren all grown up, and she would have loved to spoil the little ones.
If I could talk to her just one more time, I’d thank her for the love and devotion she showered on us for so many years. I’d talk for hours about all of you, and she’d listen eagerly to everything I said, interrupting me only once, to find out if her adorable grandson got his wish.
Yes, I’d tell her happily, Colton got way taller than Cassie.
Just over four years ago, on Aug 13th, your younger brother was born. And it was also the day one of your best friends lost their life in a car accident.
Losing Grandma had solidified my belief that there was nothing harder to bear in life than your own grief. But watching your child grieve, as it turns out, is equally hard. I can deal with my own pain. I know that by relying on my faith, I can get through anything. But watching your child struggle as they try to come to terms with the death of someone incredibly close to them, someone taken from this world long before we would have believed it would be their time…well, that was a new kind of pain.
Keenan was born at 1:30am and you came to meet your new brother in the afternoon that day. You left the room for a few minutes to take a phone call and never told me what it was about when you came back. But you had just been delivered the news that Jacob had died.
You didn’t want to tell me because you didn’t want to diminish my happiness on the day your little brother was born. That was an incredibly selfless thing to do, although when I found out later that afternoon, I’d wished you were still there so I could comfort you. Seventeen year olds aren’t supposed to die and seventeen year old best friends aren’t meant to grieve.
I’d known Jacob since you were both in elementary school and in later years I was fortunate to get to know him even better when he attended my karate classes. Jacob didn’t have the most ideal home life, but his grandma made sure he got to karate class because she said it did so much for him. He worked hard and was eager to earn our praise. He came to every class with a huge smile and I always looked forward to seeing him. He had a good heart. I know you love being with ‘good people’ and Jacob was certainly one of those.
First Communion, Colton followed by Jacob
My tears fell that day for the boy who was only in our lives for a short time and for you and all your friends who now had to figure out how to move on after an unexpected death shakes your core.
Jacob, Seventeen years old
The class and dignity that you and your friends exhibited during the days following the news still warm my heart. You all organized a “ride” where everyone would meet up where the accident happened and drive to the cemetery where Jacob was buried. This ride was such a fitting way to pay respect since you were all obsessed with your cars. After that, you all collected money so a headstone could be purchased because Jacob’s family couldn’t afford one. And for the next three years, you all met up for that ride again so you could share memories and stories of the boy you all grew up with, the boy with the easy smile who will remain seventeen years old in our hearts forever.
It’s funny how six years can seem like a long time but when something happened six years ago that completely changed your life, it can also feel like it was as close as yesterday.
I had no idea when I woke up that morning it would be the last day I would have my mom here with me, or the last time you would see your grandma. So many memories of that day are burned forever in my mind, from having been replayed over and over again as I struggled to understand how everything could be so normal the day before and so completely upended by the next morning.
I’ve often said the only people who can truly understand the pain of losing a mother are people who have also experienced it. It felt like I now belonged to a club I never wanted to join. It’s hard to describe the void that suddenly exists – it’s like a part of you is missing and no matter what you do, that hollowness will never fill. I think you just learn to live with a piece of emptiness in your heart.
Looking back, though, I have many reasons to be thankful during that time.
I am thankful that when I left Grandma’s hospital room on Thursday night, she gave me a big hug and told me she loved me. I will always be grateful that those were her last words to me.
I’m thankful that I brought both of you to the hospital on Thursday to visit.
I am thankful that when I called Aunt Nancy from the hospital Friday morning and immediately fell apart on the phone, barely whispering, “Please come.” that she instantly responded with “We’ll be right there.”
I am thankful for Grandma’s brothers and sisters who came to the hospital, to Grandma’s friend Rose Marie who came and prayed with us and to Father Brian who was also there.
Leaving the hospital that day was extremely hard and I was so thankful that your Nana and Aunt Lisa came over to our house right away.
I will always be grateful for the outpouring of support from friends and family who stopped by our house with food and cards as well as everyone who attended the funeral and packed St. Ann’s Church in Merrickville. I know I wasn’t much for socializing at the lunch we had after, but I still remember the people who attended and appreciate their kindness so much.
Time gives us a perspective that nothing else will, so looking back now, I am most grateful that I had the opportunity to watch Grandma for so many years and learn what it means to be a devoted and loving mother. And when you were born, Cassie, I watched her become an enthusiastic and dedicated grandmother as well. She loved every minute of her time with you both and if she wasn’t at our house visiting or looking after you, then she was calling to see how you were doing.
Grandma at Cassie’s First Communion
I remember calling her one afternoon when you, Cassie, were learning to walk and you were getting so close to taking a few steps on your own. I said, “She’s trying so hard! I think her first steps could happen any minute,” and Grandma said, “I’ll be right there.” She arrived fifteen minutes later and we spent the rest of the afternoon watching you hold your little push toy as you walked back and forth between us.
I remember being fortunate enough to be there when Aunt Melissa shared the news that she was having twins with Grandma. And instead of spoiling just two grandchildren after that, she got to spoil four. And we watched her love every minute of it.
There was never any question that her world revolved around all of us.
I remember one afternoon, though, when I walked out onto the deck and found Grandma sitting at the table with her morning coffee and I could tell she had been crying. When I asked her what was wrong, she said that she had been thinking about her mom. I remembered how hard it was for everyone when Great Grandma had passed away. She was the sweetest and kindest soul. But six years later, I didn’t cry over her anymore, instead my heart filled with love when I remembered her.
And now, six years after Grandma passed away, I completely understand.
The thing was, I couldn’t understand back then. I wasn’t in the club yet.
Grandma at Colton’s Confirmation
I know that Grandma watches over you both every day. Cassie – I know she would be so incredibly proud of you for your strength and determination in completing your nursing degree. And Colton – she would be so impressed with your ability to fix and rebuild anything you set your mind to, and also, of course, she would love to see that you grew so much taller than Cassie. 😀
You were both so lucky to have experienced her love for so long and for that, I will always be thankful.
We had no idea when March Break started this year, that you would not be going back to senior kindergarten. We participated as much as we could with online learning by uploading pictures of your various projects and assignments. Keenan helped too and most likely learned quite a bit despite thinking he was only playing. One assignment you particularly liked at Easter was finding items from around our house that represented Jesus’s death and resurrection.
You happily gathered a branch, a cross, some bread and a coin but you had difficulty coming up with a rock that would be like the boulder that blocked the entrance to the tomb. As you dug through various rocks that you and your little brother had collected, nothing looked right to you.
I looked through your collection and agreed. But then I thought of a rock that I knew would be perfect.
“I have a rock you could use. But you’ll have to give it back after, as it’s very special to me.” I told you.
You agreed and I went and retrieved it from my bedroom.
Turning the rock over in your hands, you looked it over. “Doesn’t look very special to me,” you said.
I smiled. It’s funny how something so plain can represent so much of your heart.
The darkest time of my life occurred almost six years ago when my mom passed away unexpectedly four days before you were born.
I strongly believe that God has a plan for each one of us and I know that the timing of your birth was important to our family as it helped by giving us a small glimmer of hope in a world that had suddenly become so empty.
You were baptized on Sept 28. When Father Brian suggested this date, I wasn’t sure. This was my mom’s birthday. But once again, it seemed like this might be God’s plan. And it turned out to be exactly that. In reading through the Church bulletin that I brought home as a memento of your baptism day, I came across an invitation that I know God had placed in front of me.
It was a notice of a grief group starting up the following week.
God had presented the answer I needed, it was up to me to take the next step.
I emailed to inquire about joining the group and asked if it would be okay if I brought along my 5 week old baby. Luckily, they welcomed us with open arms.
Every Wednesday morning for the next few months, I held you in my arms as I sat at the table with 6 other people who had lost various loved ones while we prayed, made our way through workbooks and shared stories about the people we’d lost.
I’m not going to lie. At first, it was really hard. I cried through the entire first meeting.
You see, the thing about losing a loved one, is that in the beginning, people rally around you with all of the love and support you need, but that slowly stops as you are expected to resume your regular life. The problem with that is your regular life is gone forever and adapting to this new life is really, really hard.
Days were often filled with distractions and I tried to stay busy to keep from focusing on what I’d lost but the nights were the worst. You would wake up every two hours to nurse and I would sit in the rocking chair with you while grief overwhelmed me. I never felt angry over the injustice of losing my mom so quickly and without warning, I was just sad. Every day I missed her more and nothing was ever going to change that.
One Wednesday, the leader of our grief group laid out various rocks in the center of the table. I can’t remember where Jane said she had collected them from, but she told us to look them over to see if any felt like they would hold special significance to us. As soon as I saw this one rock, I knew it was meant to be mine. One by one, we went around the table and explained why the rock we chose suited us.
When it came to my turn, Jane immediately said she knew I would choose this rock. With tears streaming down my face, I explained that this particular rock looked like the wall I was up against every day. The grief and sadness I felt seemed insurmountable and just like climbing the flat face of a rock would be impossible, it didn’t feel like I could ever climb over to that place where sadness might be replaced by a thankfulness for the memories I have.
You see, I was one of the lucky ones. I grew up confident in the fact that not only did my mom love me, but I knew wholeheartedly that she would stand toe to toe with the devil, without blinking an eye, to do all she had to in order to protect me. She might not have agreed with every decision I made, but I knew I could always count on her to be by my side in a moment’s notice if I needed her. It is much easier to be brave in life when you know that your safety net is that solid.
I was often told by kind-hearted friends that my mom is still with me and I firmly believe that. In fact, this is why I rarely visit the cemetery where she is buried – I don’t feel her there. I feel her with me when I’m rocking Keenan in my arms or cuddling with you when we are reading together. I feel her with me when Cassie and I are chatting or when Colton is telling me something about engines that we both know I’m not understanding. I feel her with me always. And that’s wonderful. But it will never be enough.
I want one more conversation. One more hug. One more chance to sit next to her outside while we drink our morning coffee.
Every Wednesday, I continued to attend my grief group. I realized that even though I might cry telling stories about my mom, I needed to tell those stories. Week by week, story by story, I was doing it. And eventually I made it through an entire session without crying. Progress.
A book given to me by one of the members of the group – I highly recommend this book.
I learned so much by listening to others tell their stories as well. I honestly believe that the hardest thing we experience in life is losing someone we love and these meetings helped me in so many ways.
So yes, sweetheart, that rock doesn’t look like much. But to me, it represents the salvation I found in a small group of caring individuals who listened to a broken-hearted girl talk about her mom.
The completed Easter project.
I’ll always wish she could have held you even just one time, sweetie, but I rest easy knowing that she’s been watching over you every day since you were born.
Thank you for being my special gift of hope and love.
