Always my sister, always my friend...

How did we get here? How is it that in less than 100 days, our family has lost two beloved members? We all remain in a state of stunned disbelief, grasping for reasons and understanding. But there are none. There is no understanding that Carrie is gone from this earth. In less than 100 days, she was told she had cancer and in a short time, that horrible disease stole her from us. It took over in her body and even with her faith and fight, she left us. Not by her choice, but she is gone nonetheless. 

It has left me reeling and my faith has been tested. My faith has been beat down and run over. And I'm left with few words of how this can be. How did this thief find her and take her from us? How did we let this happen? I have so many questions with no answers. The only thing I hear is silence. I sit here in silence not knowing what to do or how to cope. All I have is an unspeakable grief I only share with my surviving siblings first, and then the rest of my family. 

And yet it's still my own. My own sadness that will not leave me for some amount of time. I have no idea how long it will be. 

I try not to let grief consume me. And I know it will leave me one day. But not yet. Not today. It's found a home in my heart since the day Mom left us so quickly. But it got a real hold on me...as well as the rest of us when Carrie was told such a frightening diagnosis. 

She came to my house that day. I'll never forget it or the Hallmark movie I was watching that day she came. It was one I'd never seen before and it had drawn me in. I heard the door open and I turned and saw her face. And I knew. I knew in that second she was about to tell me something terrible. I knew she had been waiting for the news. And when I saw her face instead of a phone call or text telling us all was well, she had come here....and my heart sank. 

But even so I never dreamed she would say the words, "They are saying I most likely have cancer." But in that moment, our lives changed forever. Most assuredly hers more than mine. But when I heard her say it, it burned into my brain, as did that movie at the same moment. 

Refusing to accept it, I immediately said NO! I told her that so many times. As we all did. And so we began to pray and cast every prayer to God that we could pray. We believed. We stood. We begged. I pleaded. I asked every moment of every day. I had so much faith at the beginning. Praying for healing before surgery. Healing before chemo. Healing with chemo. With each changing circumstance I....we....adjusted prayers and believed for a different avenue for her. 

As a family, we circled her in prayer....and we believed it would be as we hoped and prayed. And even though we walked beside her in this nightmare she was living, she was the only one to have a chemo port put in by surgery. We took her for chemo, but she had to receive it to her body. She had to struggle with the effects of it. She was the only one walking it out. This brave, beautiful child of God was walking her Gethsemane. And even though we helped as much as we could. It was so hard to watch. It was unbearable to see it. 

Our help to her became the thing to do to ease her days and make us busy at doing anything for her that we could. Acts of service for her became the normal. This woman who had been such a servant to others was reduced to being waited on hand and foot. Being served instead of serving wasn't easy for her. This woman who thrived on doing for others, was having to endure being sidelined. And as she struggled with her inability to do the common every day things, someone would say, "There are better days ahead." "It won't always be like this." 

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, it was obvious she wasn't getting better. But we still prayed and hoped. And believed. 

Until....  

The last night we spent with her was like no other and I'd never wish it on my worst enemy. I'll not speak of it. It was too much to watch, most certainly too much to endure. The struggle was intense as she made her readiness to leave this world. And us.  

So one week ago, on her third time in a hospital in less than three weeks, she told us to let her go. She insisted. There would be no discussion. It was as she would have it and no other way. 

When we obliged our youngest sister of her request.....her demand....so many hearts broke, because we knew it would be unbearable to let her go. It is the most pain I've ever felt in my life. 

So now here we are. Wondering how life got so serious so fast. 

I have no idea what the future of this life will look like without her. 

But surely our broken hearts will mend someday. 

And with that thought, I feel a tiny bit of hope rise up in my heart. 

Love you forever and always Carrie.

Give everyone a kiss from me.

Love you forever and always Mom

I love the funny side of life. It's my favorite part. But sometimes you can't hide from the other. The last two months have been life changing, and the fun and funny have taken a backseat to the other. Because of that, I've avoided my blog. I don't want to express what I'm feeling. It's personal and private and I don't want to share. But here I am, not being funny.  

It's been two months since my mother left this earth, and it's been just as I feared it would be. Sad, melancholy and anything but fun. I don't want to go on and on about it every time I'm here, but it's where I am in my life and I can't ignore it or deny it. But it's not easy. Because if it wasn't hard enough to lose Mom, the added heartache of watching Carrie battle for her life makes it so much worse. And as I see it happening right in front of me, I think I understand why Mom's not here. 

Standing by helplessly watching someone you love fight the hardest battle of her life, is the most difficult thing I've ever experienced. It's not easy to watch her walk it out, even though she is braver than I've ever dreamed of being. And as I see this mission that Carrie's on right now, I don't know if Mom could take it. In fact I know she couldn't. 

I'm not sure if Billie June and Jesus had a secret plan for her exit, but it just feels like she knew she wasn't going to be here much longer. If she DID know, she kept it a secret from the rest of us. In hindsight, the fact that she was hurrying to get her Christmas gifts completed before Thanksgiving, may have been a clue. She tried her hardest to get all of her shopping finished and everything wrapped. In the weeks after she passed, it made us curious about her frantic pace. 

There were other signs as well and it's made us wonder what she knew. The look on her face when someone mentioned an upcoming important event, or a special moment we wanted her to be in attendance for. She seemed to want to say she wasn't promising anything to us. 

I know she realized we would all miss her like crazy. She knew we wanted her with us and to make this life with her in it last longer. But we didn't get our way. 

This past week has been especially hard for some reason. I don't know why. But Owen and I had a moment when we both felt it and knew we had to move on, or be reduced to puddles of tears. 

But I can't outrun this. And I can't hide from it. This feeling of loss follows me around as if someone attached it to my backside like a little red wagon. Following me wherever I go as a reminder that I've lost her. I can feel the separation as if I could touch it with my hands. And with that comes the realization once again that our afternoon conversations will be no more. There is a Billie June sized emptiness in my midst. I'm thankful I have so many remembrances from our 58 years together, but I'm selfish. I wanted more. 

My memories will have to be enough now. 

I realized a couple of weeks ago I was the last person to talk to her when she was in a coherent state. That night at the hospital I went in to tell her goodnight, not knowing it was goodbye. I didn't know it would be our last quiet moment together. Our last conversation. And I will never forget it. The look she gave me, her last look at my face. It seemed as if she wanted to tell me something. How I wish I had stayed longer. How I wish she had told me what she wanted to say to me. But the next day she had taken that turn, not to come back to us.   

So as I move forward without her, I have to trust God. I know he will fix my heart, my hurt. But that doesn't include bringing her back. Learning to live without her is the only thing to do. Because I don't want to feel this way forever. I want more. More happiness. More joy. More fun times. Even if I don't feel it now, because this place of loss is a hard place.  

So when I often feel the physical presence of my mother's absence, I have to remember of God's faithfulness, mercy, love and grace. I know it will see me through. It has to, because I have nothing else.  

On this first Valentine's day without her, I remember my mother's love and it makes me grateful. 

Grateful she was mine. 

Of all the millions of mothers in the world....

God gave her to me.

Oh how he loves me...

Lets look at some snaps today

I'm trying to jump start my blog again, but since life's been tough lately, I'm having a difficult time laughing or trying to make people laugh. And since that's my schtick, I'm floundering. So in order to work on my mood in hopes it will improve, I'm going to ignore all the heavy things going on in life so that we can all have a little laugh.   

Today I looked through some of my drafts I'd been working on weeks ago and I found this one that made me smile multi times. So I'm going with it. We haven't seen some snaps in a while so get ready. 

It's cold outside and I'm sitting on the couch in front of a fire. Not bad for a Friday night. 

Lets do this...

I'm nothing if not cool at all times. This pic proves it for reals.

But this is a cool beans dude right here.

So many good things about this snap. 

They were gigging me because they know this is not true. This is where all pretentious food items live. 

A little Marilyn Monroe on Jack I think.

A little Norma Desmond on the Mom.

Emma was snapping me because I snapped her to tell her to snap me a pic of her in that dress she was wearing. Got all that?

This was the outfit I wanted to see.

We don't know what day it actually was though. 

Agreed. 

Hashtag owning it.

No need for a caption when something is this awesome. 

This next set of pictures I'm calling the boxwood head series....

You could be hiding lots of things under those leaves.

Seriously hides a bad hair day if you're having one. 

I look so normal compared to what I'd look like with my color.

This made me laugh.

Pink Panther crept into Emma's shot.

Must have run out of pillows.

Surprises are almost always good. 

But a loving accident. Get it?!

Me and Emma were going to do something very intelligent. I can't remember what it was. But it was smart. 

She's a resourceful 1 year old. 

Hmmm and spelling issues as well. Not a good day for me. 

I thought when my kids grew up, they'd stop playing with legos. I was wrong. 

I'm not saying a word.

But she don't need no crown to further her agenda. 

When is a crown a tiara and when is a tiara a crown? I bet Queen Lizzie knows.

That's a queen with some tude right there. 

The only true and real queen has been finally found. 

What more can be said about this kid?

This cracks me up as well as sends shivers down my spine. 

This snap post has been a while in the making since Blake has aged considerably since I uploaded this pic. 

This will never not be true. 

This post was short and sweet with no drama added. That means I need to end this now before I start thinking. 

Kit Kat is on her way home for the weekend and the only thing that could make this weekend better is if Emma was here as well.

Hope all people are somewhere cozy and warm. 

Goat is what she was

Every room in my house has a gift from my Mom. They are everywhere because she was so good at it. Good at giving. She would give and give until she had nothing left to offer. I saw her do it all of my life. 

I remember when I was a young girl, a coworkers' daughter died. I remember she went and bought a dress for the child to be buried in. I've never forgotten it. It's who she was. A giver through and through.  

She was also generous with her love, and her time, as long as it wasn't during Dancing With the Stars. That show will have one less viewer next time. One who kept scores written down and took the whole show very serious. To call Billie during the show was not appreciated. Believe me, because I did it. Her very coarse, "Hello...." meant what do you want? And I knew to end the convo very quickly. 

We all have so many things she has given us, but John has something no one else in the family has. 

Here's why.

A few years ago my family was going to some event and we were taking Mom with us. I have no remembrance of where or what we were going to. But at the last minute, as Billie was want to do sometimes, she bowed out and decided to stay home. Well as we were leaving our house I told John, "Mom's not going after all." His response was, "Why not? The old goat." 

Of course on my next visit to see her I told Mom what John said about his mother-in-law. Well, she laughed OUTLOUd and thought it was the funniest thing. So when the next Christmas rolled around, guess what she gave John.....

She indeed gave him a goat, real...somewhere in the world....if he's still alive...and then a representation of him in our house. Forever sitting on a shelf in our den as a reminder of what a good sport she was.  

That's the kind of sense of humor Billie June Etheredge Walker had. It was as good of one as I've ever seen. You could tell her anything and make her laugh, even if it was at her expense. Of course John was kidding when he called her an old goat. Most likely it was because he was disappointed she wasn't going with us. If only John had known of the expression "greatest of all time." He could have used that as cover. 

All of this was prompted by my cleaning today, and as I was dusting in my room, I found this....

Then I found this....

This little box, always sitting on my dresser, she gave me when I was a teenager. 

She knew how much I loved this vase that she had once given to her mother-in-law. So she gave it to me. 

One of the last gifts she gave me was this little blue bird of happiness. 

We could all use some happiness right about now. 

I know it wasn't the things she gave me that mattered. Although I consider them valuable treasures, now more than ever. But she was a giver and loved to give people something as a token of her love. She thought about the gifts she wanted to give us. She pondered and poured over catalogs looking for the perfect thing for each of us. It was her thing to do for us at Christmas.

Christmas was hers to shower her family with gifts. She loved doing it and we loved Christmas morning because of her. And the older she got, the more I fretted over how many more Christmases we would have with her. Not because of the gifts, but because of her. I never wanted it to end. I certainly thought Christmas 2017 with her was a done deal. 

Until it wasn't. 

But there was never going to be enough with her. Enough OF her. Never enough birthdays, Thanksgivings, Christmases. I was always going to want more. 

I was never going to be ready for one without her. I never wanted to be without her.

So now here I sit, staring at my blue bird of happiness, and missing the old goat like crazy.  

She really was the greatest of all time.

John told her that in his own special way. Albeit by accident.

Love you forever and always Mom

Love and miss you always Mom

True love. I know what true love is. I've seen it. I've lived it and I've felt it. It's what I know of my mother's love. I know that first hand. My mother, our mother, knew how to give true love. She was a master at it. 

Until December 6th, 2017, my mother has been here. And although she wasn't with me in the flesh on every trip or every event or special moment in my life, she was always here to hear the story of it. And I've always loved to tell a story. And she loved my stories. She loved all of our stories. Because she loved us. 

No matter where we went, or what we did, she wanted to hear about it. No matter the destination or the situation, she was curious to know and to hear. She was such a good audience. Any one of us could sit and tell her a tale of happiness or woe and she would listen attentively and make sure you knew you felt her love. 

She was the most faith filled person I've ever known. She had many opportunities to question circumstances in her life. Ninety years of living certainly allows for the chance to have good times and bad. Plenty and want. Joy and sorrow. She had all of that. But she never quit. Not one time. I know she may have wanted to, but she did not. She did not quit. Instead she worked at making life better on bad days. Leaving a burned in memory of a day all of us in her family dreaded, when she showed up like this. 

On that first Christmas after Frank and Nina died she showed up dressed quite weirdly, even for her. But we've never forgotten her valiant attempt to change the day with some token of remembrance. And you know what? We've never forgotten it. We still talk about it. We still cherish the memory of her trying to make us laugh. Laugh at her. And we did. 

Well done Mom. You did it that day when you wore that outfit, because you loved us so much. 

I don't know how God managed to make her the way he did, and then give her to us. Or, give us to her. Her kids and grandkids and great grandkids were the lights of her life. And we knew it. She made sure we knew it.

She was this wonderful, amazing woman. And she was my mother. She was always a phone call away. And now I have to learn to live without her. And I don't yet know how I will do that. For 58 years of my life she has been here. And now she is not. 

But I won't grieve for the rest of my life, because she wouldn't want that. She would expect me....you....all of us, to remember her with so much love and smile when we think of her. And our love for each other. And live. Live well. And love.  

And so my dear sweet mother, I'll never let a day go by that I don't remember you and be grateful for you and miss you. I know you're where you want to be, but learning to live without you will not be easy. I wish it was one thing I could have skipped, like a childhood chore you assigned to me and I somehow got out of. But grief and sadness have found me. It found us all. It's an all too familiar feeling that none of us want to spend much time with. 

I promise we won't let grief take us over. We promise we will love as best as you showed us how. 

We promise. 

You were a gem, unique and wonderful. 

The prayers you prayed will last lifetimes and will continue to change lives. 

You made life better. 

I will love you forever and always. 

I will always be grateful you were mine.