miriam beth

we spent a lot of time in this room, on this bed. all of my babies took their naps here, next to my mom, who never really went anywhere, except maybe to the dinner table for sunday dinner. we just always came to her, sitting in the bed, snuggling in the chair, rolling around on the floor. 

when we knew she was dying, that this was the end, i realized that even though she couldn't read, she couldn't write, she participate in a conversation, it was still comforting to have her body there, in her bed, in case i wanted to creep in and just stay next to her. 

this time of our lives was so full of grief. we were so lost. we were so tired. we were like zombies. and i didn't know how much longer we'd be able to live like that, but i also couldn't imagine living without that grief, because the grief was the loss we were feeling and I didn't ever want to live without missing my mom. 

members of the church of Jesus Christ of latter day saints, aka LDS, aka "Mormon" believe that we are eternal beings. we believe that when we marry our partner in the temple we are promised to each other forever and ever. we call it being sealed, and we know from the scriptures that what is sealed on earth will be sealed in the life after. we also know that because of Jesus Christ death "hath no sting, the grave hath no victory", that my mother still exists, she is still my mother, and one day i'll be able to see her again, perhaps curl up next to her and have some peace and quiet, and maybe some gentle correction just like i used to. this belief makes me happy. but despite the comfort, i am still torn, lost, sad. because i am here and she is there and we are growing and learning and changing. i am missing everything and she is missing everything and i miss her, darn it. i really, really miss her. 

here is the lesson, i think: the gospel provides promises and those promises provide comfort. but they do not save us from hardship. gospel promises did not save my mother from sickness and death, they have not saved me from being separated from my mom. but they did save me from losing her forever. 

and we have moved on, thank goodness. we have had more babies and moved houses and tried new things. we have new family members and we have kept going. we are living our lives, we are experiencing joy, we are remembering sally with love and hope and aching. we are living with the grief, we are living with the hope, we are living with love.

ten years out is better than ten years ago, even if those ten years have been the hardest ten years of my life by a long stretch. despite being ten years away from sally, i am also ten years closer. i can't wait to see her again.