My nephew Ronny |
Today, my sisters and I attended the funeral services for my mother. It's difficult to describe how I felt and feel. I was drawn closer to her by listening to her cousin, Mary Joyce speak of mom's earlier years, when she was a young girl and teenager. Mom really never talked a lot about those days, so it was nice to hear and learn the fun, happy side of her life. I believe all is Holy in the house of God, and I was trying my hardest to feel heaven there.
Linda, Myself and Dottie (Linda's mom) |
Linda one of my besties- I love her |
Susan and Ron Lundberg (mom's closest friends) |
Jenny--I love you |
November 20th 2013 Wednesday
As I post this Eric and I are in Mexico, spending some time at our condo, he needed to fix our freezer (well I say him, but those of you who know my "Tim the tool man" knows he will hire someone to fix it.) He wanted me to come last week, and in fact was leaving for Mexico on the day he got the text from me saying my mother had passed. This week he has been begging me to come with him, and I have not wanted to go, mostly because I think a little bit of that depression and unresolved issues is unsettling to me. Eric knows me so well, he knew if I stayed home I would lay around and try to figure out the whys? Then become depressed and anxious, so I'm glad I came with him.
Being here, draws me closer to Heavenly Father, I'm able to sit on the sand, watch the ocean waves come gently in and out and see the hand of the Lord pick me up and keep me from getting carried away in those waves. Honestly, I have so many emotions stirring up inside of me, although what I am saying is completely from my heart and I am being true to myself, I know it will probably be confusing to some people.
I want to remember and write some of my fond memories of mom. Our kitchen was always our gathering place, and I loved to sit, watch and learn from her. There were 3 things I remember distictly about my mom during Christmas--she always made Red Velvet Cake and sprinkled the green and red sparkles to top it off. She also taught me how to make her Cranberry Meatballs, that was a Christmas Eve Tradition in our home. Lastly, she made cheese balls and gave them out to friends and anyone she knew needed a little boost during the holiday months. Eric and I sill carry on this tradition, so if you get a cheese ball during the holiday month it;s because our family loves you--DON"T THROW IT AWAY. Mom grew her own small cucumbers, and taught me how to pickle them, I loved her homegrown pickles. Every year I went to girls camp, she was there it was comforting to have my mom with us at Camp Lo Mia, all the girls in the Stake loved her so much. I wanted to be just like that, I wanted to work in Young Women's like she did, go to girls camp like she did and enjoy all the blessings that come from serving in YW. I have not really had an opportunity to serve in the YW program for more than 6 months, but I was able to be our ward camp director for several years in a row. I also remember my mom giving me the 1st compliment I can remember. She said "Monya you have the ability to get upset or mad, spit it out, then let it go, I like that about you" When Elvis Presley died, I was mowing the lawn and remember coming into the house to get a drink of water, she was crying, she really loved music, that is probably why I love music so much. I'll never forget having to tell my mother over the phone that my brother had died, she was heart broken, she screamed "No, No" over and over then threw the phone.
Mom is with Lance now |
Beautiful Casket |
Greg dedicating the grave |
When my brother Lance died I felt so guilty for not doing more to help him, it was a heavy burden I was carrying, I knelt and prayed one night for comfort and peace to fill my soul, for the Lord to let me know Lance was OK. That night as I knelt waiting for an answer, I felt my brothers hand on mine and his voice as clear as day say "This is the Lords will, not yours, I am happy" Because of that experience I was able to move forward in faith and HOPE knowing without a doubt Lance was in a good place.
For me, it was the start for healing when I was able to be at moms bedside and say "I forgive you" before she passed on. It was a tender moment, and I know she heard me.
During the funeral my mother's dearest friend Susan spoke and told memories she had of my mom. She spoke from her heart and she really loved my mom, something I will always be grateful for. While she was speaking I thought of a talk given by Elder Bednar in General Conference October of 2009. He talked about family love, he said that no wife, daughter, son or husband should hear the words "I love you" for the 1st time from the pulpit--this is what I heard--but not from my mom from her friend. I wish so badly I would of heard "I love you, and I am proud of you" from my mothers lips. All I can do now is to make sure everyone I truly love and care for, not only hear it, but KNOW it. I understand mom may not have been able to express her love to me, because I'm not really sure if she was told as a child--maybe she was never taught by example--I don't know--all I know for sure is when I held each and everyone of my children in my arms for the 1st time I loved them--unconditionally loved each one of them. I guess the forgiveness does not always leave you with a feeling of peace and happiness, this part will come to me in the Lord's time--It always does-so for now, I love you mom, and I know you did the best you could.
3 comments:
I, for one, have found your telling of your story. - in Your voice, in YOUR way, in YOUR timing - to be enormously helpful as I continue to process my own experiences. I can see your growth and increasing clarity.
Thank you for sharing, Monya.
Losing our mother is never easy. Thank you for sharing your experience. I look back and wish I would have written more about when my mom passed away. Your message will reach those who need it and will comfort them in what way they need. Thank you. My heart has been touched.
You have become a prolific writer. Wonderful to read this, Monya. Beautifully expressed.
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