Life, Life, and Life

I know the whole world doesn't believe in life after death.

But, I'm sure glad I do.

This past week has been filled with a myriad of conflicting emotions as I've pondered life - life before birth; life here on Earth; life when we're separated from loved ones; life when we're surrounded by them; life when we're communicating well; life when we're not; life after we've breathed our last breath...

Life. It's a beautiful word when you believe it as I do because - - - it never stops. It changes, oh how it changes, but it continues and seems to become more and more enriched.

My Grandma passed away on Tuesday. She passed away after a long, beautiful life that was filled and overflowing with love and family. With 8 children, 30+ grandchildren, and too many great-grandchildren to count, she was the matriarch of a thriving family - and we will all miss her dearly. I learned Monday that she was dying, and much of that day was spent in tears as I went from feeling sorrow for myself and my Grandpa, to feeling gratitude for my Grandma's 93 years of a healthy life...and for the blessing that, though relatively unexpected, her passing was happening quickly.

Thursday, I woke up to an unwelcome and familiar weight of pain in my heart. Before opening my eyes, I sent a little nontraditional prayer to heaven, "I love you Grandma. If you see Jess, tell him I love him too. It's his birthday." I can't explain why I felt like I could communicate with Grandma just then...or why I felt I couldn't communicate with my stillborn son...but it made me feel better - even though when I opened my eyes I felt the painful prick of tears threatening to overtake my day.

Thursday was filled with confusing, conflicting emotions. Still feeling the pain and gratitude from my Grandma's passing, I added to it the sorrow of losing my son four years ago, and the bitter loneliness of knowing no one close to me in this life could understand it. I felt shame as I realized I've let some of the lessons I learned from Jess go unheeded, and determination to fix them again. I then felt excitement as I heard my developing son's strong heartbeat at my doctor's appointment, and celebrated his impending arrival with some good friends that night.

So many different phases of life, all calling themselves to attention at the same time - one sweet baby on the brink of arrival, one cherished woman just departed, and one little spirit that somehow bridges that gap in my heart by having been on the brink of arrival and departure at the same time... All of my emotions got tangled up inside me and formed themselves into a lump that got stuck deep inside, causing discomfort and irritation throughout the whole day. That night, when all was still and dark inside my house, a magnificent thunderstorm rolled in. I stood at the sliding glass doors with one hand resting on the handle, and one propped up on the doorframe. And as I watched the thunderstorm crash and rage and pour down it's rain, I let the thunderstorm inside my soul do the same. The tears started to fall from my eyes - and then they started to pour. The storm eventually moved on - leaving only quiet stillness behind - and I felt strangely refreshed myself. After a long talk with Brian that night, I felt peaceful...and as I thought about the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the tools it has given me to learn for myself about the mysteries of life, I felt cleansed in my knowledge.

I know the whole world doesn't believe in life after death.

But, I'm sure glad I do.

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And, just because I don't feel like ending on a really pensive, kind of sad note, I'll share with you this sweet little conversation my kids and I had in the car 10 minutes after I had gotten off the phone with my parents and received the news that my Grandma had just passed away (okay, so it's still a little sad... but kids somehow have a way of lightening things up a bit!):

McKenzie had picked up on my somber attitude and asked, "Are you happy or sad, Mom?"
I turned off the radio and said, "Well, I guess I'm kind of sad right now."
"Why?" she asked immediately.
"Because Great-Grandma Clara just died."
My kids' reactions were sweet - as McKenzie reverently said, "Oh" and Carson said, "Oh, dat sad." Carson then asked, "Why she died?"
"Well," I responded, "she was very old."
"Yeah," McKenzie helped explain to Carson in her sweetest, most reverent voice, "her arms were old, and her legs were old, and her toes were old, and her hands were old..."
In the same sweet voice, Carson interjected, "And hew head was ohd."
"No," Kenz said sharply. "Her head wasn't old."
"Oh," Carson said submissively.
I tried to stifle a laugh, but a little of it snuck out and caused McKenzie to ask me why I was laughing. "You're just cute," I responded. "Why wasn't her head old?"
"Mo-om," she said as a teenager would to her 'dumb' mother, "It still had hair on it." (Duh!)

Well, her head had hair, and her brain had sharpness, and her muscles had strength, and her lungs had laughter, and her heart was full of love up until the very end of her life. And, though her heart doesn't beat, she must have taken all that love with her - and has found a way to share it with those of us left behind.

We love you, Grandma.