This topic is a tough one and it weighs heavy on my heart as today marks another birthday without my mom here. Today she would be 57. In a perfect world, we would start the morning with a run, appreciating that the west fields stay much cooler than the black asphalt of 4th east and the sun would peak up over the grand Mt. Nebo and it would feel like the whole world would be waking up to celebrate the birth of Diane Bessey Jacobsen. We'd eat Emily Stephens raspberry lemon cake and sit on the back porch admiring the peas and the smell of the lavender. Mom was never one to make a huge deal about herself but it was so fun to on days like this. It might seem like a boring day in July, but to us, it was a day to celebrate the woman who always celebrates everybody else. She was a light. She was so fun. She was everybody's best friend.
My purpose in this post is to not to linger on the sad fact that July 9th will no longer be spent with my mom. Its easy to be mopey about that. But I thought I'd gather my thoughts and try to document the feelings and memories of the sad but necessary truths of death in hope that others may feel they are not so alone, so that others may find a bit of comfort or guidance when they also lose a loved one. That's the other strange thing. We will all get to the point in our lives at some time or another where we will lose someone we love. There's no beating around the bush with that one. The plain cold truth about life is that people die. All the time.
If you've read here before, my mom was very sick. When I was in fourth grade, we found out she had breast cancer. After chemo and radiation and her absolutely amazing ability to endure, she beat it. But on November 9, 2015 (on the anniversary date of the day we found out she had cancer the first time in 2005) we found out that the darkness had returned and this time it was ugly. It was lodged in her lungs and peppered throughout her bones. It made her lungs feel heavy and her skeletal system tired. The wonderful doctors and nurses she had were able to buy her a bit of time. Thanks to modern medicine and a God with a plan, she was able to fight for another 3 years when prognoses said otherwise.
In August of 2018 I remember there was a day when Mom said she just felt funny. More funny that normal. She was used to getting a lot of fluid drained off her lungs, but this was different. They decided to go to the hospital and it turned out they found a lot of fluid on her heart. She was rushed up to Timpanogos Regional Hospital and was admitted to the cardiac unit where she underwent a pericardial effusion. They essentially just stuck a small catheter in the outer lining of her heart and drained the fluid that was building up between her heart and the protective sack that surrounds it. I remember the doctor sat my dad down and in his best intentions, explained that the good thing is that this kind of thing usually doesn't happen twice, but the bad thing is that its because the patient usually passes away by the time it's needed again. So, that was our indicator that our time with Mom was actually winding down. It was terrifying to hear. All this time we had been praying and working for a miracle but it was just prolonging life and helping us see that eventually, miracles may come to and end. But, like others, after a long wrestle with God, I've learned that sometimes it's okay that we dont get the miracles we want.
Mom would slowly decline over the next few months. I would go back to Snow College and my dad became her primary caretaker. It was amazing to see the patience and care he offered her for so long. I work in long term care, and a lot of the time we admit patients whose families just need a break for their own mental and physical health for a few days. Resources like hospice and respite are wonderful things for families who need a little extra help with end of life care. We ended up enlisting the help of a hospice nurse, and she was wonderful. But my Dad really did everything. I would come home on the weekends to help her get in the bath and help her shave her legs and do her hair. I'd sit with her in the night to relieve my dad for a bit and it was in those quiet moments at night that I realized how close death puts you to the other side of the veil. Those nights that I would spend with my mom, when she was closer to death than life, were very sacred to me. She'd talk to me about people standing close by that looked or felt so familiar to her. And I'm absolutely convinced, after listening to her talk about the loved ones close by, her Grandma Ethel was the one to help her cross over from mortal life into the spirit world.
(Grandma Ethel for reference)
There was one morning over Christmas break that I went to go greet my mom in the morning and she was just sobbing and feeling so mad that she was still alive. That was painful to hear. Painful for me because I'd never wish my mom would die, but even more painful because I could see what agony she was in. She couldn't see anymore. The cancer had taken over most of her senses, She could hardly eat. She was probably closer to about 90 pounds by the time she would pass away. It was that day that made me realize that praying for the miracle of letting my mom have more time was a very selfish thing for me to do. My perspective really changed during those weeks and it made me realize it was time to grow up, and start praying for the best thing to happen for my mom. And in this case, it was for her no longer have to endure the pains of cancer any longer. So from then on we spent our time reading and preparing her for what was to come. And she was ready. She came to the point where she realized she could do a lot more in the next life than she could here and she was ready for her next mission. December turned to January and January froze into February. It was Valentines weekend that we finally knew death was closer than it had been in months. Mom was showing the early signs of someone "actively dying". Her breathing changed, the tips of her fingers started to turn blue and she could no longer respond, but she could still hear everything. On Thursday night the whole family came to say goodbye and she would pass away in the early hours of the morning the following Saturday.
As I continue to reflect on those last months with my mom, its made me realize that death is a funky thing. Though its unavoidable, each experience with the death of a loved one is unique. In The Book Thief the narrator (Death) describes the worst parts of his job and he says "its the leftover humans. The survivors... I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.” We are the ones left to pick up the pieces, plan the funerals, and go through the personal belongings.
I read, as they mention in the Book of Mormon, “the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life." (Alma 40:11) I've always loved the thought that my mom, weak and fragile, was taken "home". Welcomed home and declared triumphant from a hard life's work. But gosh. Death leaves an ugly sting when you feel like that "home" should be right there next to you. The loss of a parent puts you in this really weird club. I was never really sure what to do. Or how to allow myself to grieve. If I could tell anyone anything about death, it would be to accept your grief and feel it. To really feel it. As first it came in obnoxious waves and it seemed like it was at the worst times and it always included a really ugly cry. Since accepting it a little bit more I've come to learn that grief can really be quite a sacred experience.
If this blog post were to reach anyone who may be going through this awfully awkward time of life that includes trying to navigate life without a parent, I'd like to type a few words that I pray find the eyes that may need to read them.
Many prophets and apostles have shared the Psalm,
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."
And I've always appreciated that scripture for reminding me that nothing sad lasts forever. Because of Jesus Christ there will always be light in darkness. However, I, among others who have had to face these earthly sorrows, have also learned that joy also cometh in the mourning. Nephi's Dad, in his dying words to his sons, taught us that there must be opposition in all things. But it’s a promise from God that though things may be bitter and ugly, there is happiness. There is hope. And there is healing. It okay if it doesn’t feel like that now. When people told me that, I remember just feeling angry like I didn’t think people actually understood what I was going through. And that’s true. No one really understands how you are feeling. The emotions that come with the death of a loved one are all so unique. But you know who's really good at knowing what we are feeling? Jesus. His whole mission in life was to be able to feel how you’ve felt so that He can run to your aid. (Alma 7:12) He often wept when empathizing with those He loved. He mourned with them. I mourn with you.
Its okay to be angry. It wasn't until we went to therapy as a family that we started to realize that. There's really never a good time to lose a parent or friend or sibling or spouse. Whether you're young, middle aged or find your years racking up, you never plan on your person missing out on things in your life. I lost my Mom when I was 22 and I could think of a million things that my Mom will not be here for and that makes me really angry. Sometimes it makes me really sad and sometimes I feel a lot of jealousy towards others who get to experience these things with their Mothers. But I think the best advice I've got while navigating this "grief" cycle, is that whatever you may be feeling right now, or in a week or in a month, you should allow yourself to feel it.
I read the poem by Denise Levertov once that said,
Ah, Grief, I should not treat you
like a homeless dog
who comes to the back door
for a crust, for a meatless bone.
I should trust you.
I should coax you
into the house and give you
your own corner,
a worn mat to lie on,
your own water dish.
You think I don't know you've been living
under my porch.
You long for your real place to be readied
before winter comes. You need
your name,
your collar and tag. You need
the right to warn off intruders,
to consider
my house your own
and me your person
and yourself
my own dog.
I've learned that grief, when acknowledge and accepted, can be a beautiful thing. It's such a heavy spectrum of emotions to endure and I've realized I cant endure it by myself. I've also learned that aside from really chaotic and heavy emotions, death has left me with a lot of questions.
I'd often ask myself, "Why would God need my mom when I feel like I need her here so much more?" Often accompanied by, "What could possibly be more important for her to do than to be here and be my mom?" And to be honest, those questions still creep into the back of my mind sometimes. I wouldn't say that God has ever answered those questions, and I doubt He ever will. In the early chapters of the Book of Mormon, Nephi (a prophet) tries to understand this vision his father had. When an Angel of the Lord asks Nephi what some of the meanings are behind his father's dream, Nephi answer has always resonated with me. He states a foundational, grounding testimony, and then he admits that he really doesn't know. He's pretty confused himself. I really admire Nephi's desire to figure it out though, while sticking to what he does have a concrete knowledge of. To say, "I dont know these answers" is a hard phrase to utter. He says "I know that the Lord loveth His children. Nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things. " (1 Nephi 11:17) I'm fairly certain I have been in that situation many times with God as well. Its pretty easy to feel like God definitely does not love you if He has taken away the person you love most with your whole heart. But since studying that I've found great peace in knowing that God loves His children and He has a plan. And most of the time I have no idea what that plan is. And that's okay. My grief has led me to trust, and with that trust I've gained a greater understanding of God's plan for families.
As the grief cycle has continued, it has taken me some time for me to accept that those answers were the best it was going to get. But now, as life has moved forward I realize what a great blessing it has been. My mom was ready to go. She was ready to work. She had promised me that she was going to stay, in her words, "...as close to you as God will let me." I have felt her. Her beautiful spirit has been so close in so many parts of my life. I know she is there. I also know that God knows that He took my mom. My hero. My best friend. We've learned (my sister and I) that God also wants to hear all of it. All of it. He wants to hear that we're angry, that we're sad, and that we feel let down. That we are confused. And if you need a few day/weeks/months/ to be a little angry with God that's okay. He wants to hear about it. But I promise that the worst thing we could do is to shut God out during times like these. There is so much help and healing provided through the gospel of Jesus Christ and through God's plan that we need.
I know someone else whose loved one passed the same time as mine and we went the complete opposite ways when it came to dealing with the deaths of our family members. While we were both angry with Heavenly Father, I realized that I could not cope with this tragedy without the healing that comes through faith and hope in Jesus Christ and in Heavenly Father. Did I feel like I was following blindly for a while? Absolutely. I was at my most vulnerable. But I look back and see that Gods plan is special. It’s confusing. But it’s also wonderful. And my grief has just been too heavy to carry alone. It takes some time to figure that out. Dealing with death becomes so much more of a healing and spiritual experience when you choose to trust God. My friend was also angry. They still are. The thought of the death of their loved one just makes them angry. I remember listening to them talk about how much angst they have towards God. They also seek assistance through different sources when dealing with grief, and I can honestly say the world will help you deal with death a lot differently than God would and the results seem to be a bit more numbing and never truly healing.
Sometimes it is easier to be mad and angry forever. I could see the appeal. I also see the appeal in not having to carry around this sorrow for the rest of your life. I remember asking God sincerely to allow me to be susceptible to those moments when my Mom is close by, and He has allowed me to do so in many many ways. I definitely wouldn’t choose a life without my mom, but the fact that God has allowed her to stay so close has been a great blessing in my life and in my future. She is everywhere. I know she’s close, rooting for me and helping me get my life where it needs to go.
I had this confirmation again when I delivered my babies. I was not looking forward to becoming a Mom without my mom. That’s one of those things I’ll never understand why I have to go through without my mom. I’m the youngest in my family and all my siblings had had children that have been held by their Grandma Diane. The day I delivered mine, it was like I had this distinct impression, and I heard the sweet voice of my Mom confirm that her hands were going to be the last hands my babies would hold as they moved from their pre-earth life to this mortal life. The delivery of my kids became so emotional for me not because I missed her (I definitely did) but because I had realized that Gods plan for families is true. Because of the gospel of Jesus Christ our loved ones that move on before us are still ours to keep. And they fight for us. They cheer us on. They send us the people we need and they will absolutely stay as close as they can.
To sum it up, so I can stop word vomiting all over the keyboard, the death of a loved one is not an experience one might recommend for a pleasant time. Grief is messy. Grief never ends. That just the cold hard truth. I'm fairly certain I will go the rest of my life feeling disappointed that I can't call my mom to tell her every random thing. God has a plan. He loves us. It might be hard to tell. He's tricky that way. He's got a plan. It may seem ugly for a second, but it always, always has a way of working out beautifully if we let it. Trust that God loves us enough to allow us to be with our families forever. Because of Jesus Christ, we can be. He's seen it all. He's felt it all. Do what you need to do. Be a little mad. Go to therapy. Call a friend. Talk it about. But most importantly, dont forget about the enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Give it to Him. Let Him carry it. Let Him carry you. He will. He always does.
Comments
Post a Comment