Rememberance

I walked into Sunday school at 8-years-old.  I was visiting a new church with my family.  There was a girl my age.  Her name was Trista.  She had pretty brown hair and green eyes.  Her grandma taught my class.  I didn't realize I would grow up with this girl.  She was pretty and popular.  I wanted to be those things.  I was skinny, awkward with long limbs and buck teeth.  My hair was frizzy and puffy.  I never felt pretty when I was younger.  I always wanted to look like Trista.

She became my best friend.  She got good grades and she was very smart.  She had a rough life that I didn't know of then.  I didn't know why she lived with her grandma or why I never saw her parents.  Trista was mischievous.  She did things that would get us both in trouble.  We sneaked out and took her grandma's car at 15.  She would smoke cigarettes and things like that.  I didn't smoke.  I knew what my boundaries were, and though Trista would break boundaries, I usually just tagged a long.  Trista had many boyfriends.  Like I said, she was pretty and popular, and I was mostly jealous of her.  She had everything I thought I wanted.  Years later, I learned that the jealousy was mutual, and that she didn't really like the boys.  She just wanted someone to love her.  She wanted a family.  She wanted a dad.  She wanted a mom.

She lost her mom when we were in junior high.  Her mother lived a rough life.  We found out when we came back from church camp.  She called me, I remember the crack in her voice.  Trista never cried.  Trista never let people know that she hurt.  But I always knew she did, even when other people didn't like her, or even hated her.  I knew she was in pain.  I knew it when I was young.  Nothing mean that Trista did would deter me, because somehow a God-given intuition told me that she needed me.  Not that I am or ever was an angel.  Not that I wasn't a selfish child either, I was.  But no matter what the fight, I always forgave her.  She forgave me too. When we were 19, and I was in college, she told me that she appreciated that from me.  She told me I was her best friend and that she had always wanted what I had.  She told me that no matter how many years went by, that she knew I would be there.

I was there.  I wish I had spoken up more...told her what she needed to hear.  Like, "Trista, you don't really need those pills.  You don't have to be 80 lbs."  Or "Trista you need to slow down."  Or "Trista quit running from the pain and tell someone.  Tell me.  Stop ignoring it."  I wish I had said the harder things.  I was there for her, but I didn't tell her to stop.  I didn't have a backbone then.  If I was who I am today, I would throw the pills in the toilet.  I would tell her what she needed to hear.  Because no one did that for her.  That was what she wanted and why she pushed people away.  She wanted to see if those people would still be there.  She wanted to see if they would push back.  I never pushed back.  I now wish that I had.  I think it would have made a difference.

The Perfection in Imperfection

I am, finally, the mother of a beautiful baby boy.  He is wonderful.  He didn't used to keep me up all night until this week, and this is week #3.  The first two weeks were laden with intermittent pain and euphoria  of having a perfect baby, one who only woke up once a night.  Of course, that has changed now as he begins to transition out of the newborn stage.

The boy eats like a horse (like his dad) and can't be wakened if he is asleep (also like his dad).  He is stubborn (will cry for hours if you don't hold him) and expressive (he gets that from me).  :)

I love him so much.  I don't know what I will do when someone hurts him.   It will be very hard for me not to kill them.  You thought I was crazy before?  You should see me now that I'm a mom.

We lost our sweet puppy dog, Angel, earlier this week, and for the first time in over a month, I felt really depressed.  I will always miss her, since she was my first dog and I got her during a time when I was mourning my friend's death and other things going on in my life at the time.  She helped me to deal with things emotionally, and because of that, I think of her as a true friend that God blessed me with at the right time.  And she left at a good time too, when I have an infant who is becoming more vocal.  To be honest, I don't have much time to dwell on the sadness, though I still have my moments.

What's the most encouraging thing of all of this?  I can feel myself growing.  I can see my relationship with my husband getting stronger, though I thought the opposite was supposed to happen.

My husband is my best friend, and he has been very supportive and sweet throughout everything.  He tells me how awesome I am at being a mom.  He is becoming the loving father that I always dreamed of...and a better husband because of it.

People have stepped up and helped us in so many ways, I can't thank them enough.  We have been given countless gift cards, checks, gifts, clothes for Sampson.  My church has been awesome.  My pastor and his wife brought over food and a gift card for groceries from them and other members.  Friends have offered to babysit and give a hand, gladly.  I have never felt so loved.

Though life will continue to be hard, because that is just life, I am more confident that life will be okay.  It doesn't weigh on my shoulders anymore.

In a World that is Mourning

There are days like these when it is impossible not to shed a handful of tears.  Even with years between now and when you lost someone, the wound still seems raw.  You see it on people's faces.  It's not just 9/11.  It's not just parents of soldiers lost in the wars of the last decade.  Death is everywhere, whether loud and apparent like 09/11 or Syria, or quiet and stabbing, excruciatingly quick like a young mother losing her child before he is born or a bride dead on her wedding night.  It can be long and drawn out like watching your mother and all that made her wonderful disappear before your eyes, piece by beautiful piece.  Death is pervasive and each situation arduous, grueling.

Death tests the spirit to the core.  It is the ultimate loss.  It is a realization that your life will never be the same--a hole will always be where he or she was-- and that one day, you too will walk through a similar door into the unknown.  So many have gone before, and more and more are going every day, but it doesn't dull the knife of pain death brings.  Years pass and Death will scar your life, leaving marks on you with each and every precious person he takes.

I see how Death makes people despair.  I must admit that I, too, am pierced by Death and what he has done in my own life.  I still struggle with how much I miss those gone in my life, and I am young.  I know well that it will only happen more often, and that's something I must come to accept.

But I have something most people don't have.  I have a Hope that my life now--the past, present and future--is only temporary, including the pain, no matter how unbearable.  I have Someone to hold on to when everything else fails, and when Death comes calling, I have a Friend that comforts me, and He's closer than a brother.  He gives a peace that no one person or thing can offer.  It gets hard, yes, but if there is one thing I wish I could impart to you, if there is only one thing that you would ever hear from me, it would be that He is there for you, too.  He has rivers of infinite mercy waiting for you, no matter where you have been.  You may think He is a figment of my imagination, or that He's a god that has never cared, but I know from my own life that He sees you and everything you have been through and He grieves for your broken heart.  He has lost, in fact, He sent His only Son for you.  You will never understand why, I know I don't, but I trust this Friend and He has brought me through every pain I've had.  Not only that, but He conquered Death, as impossible as it sounds, He defeated it to where sin, death, and pain no longer reign, He does.  This Friend cares, even if you fight Him, even if you hate Him.  I have hated Him and cursed Him, and still He has followed me to the darkest pits to pull me out.

I only pray you allow Him to do the same for you.

"There's bound to come some trouble in your life, reach out to Jesus, and hold on tight.  He's been there before and He knows what it's like, and you'll find He's there."--Rich Mullins

So, besides me being pregnant...

Life is crazy.  I'm seven months pregnant, and I haven't posted anything on this blog in over eight months.  Living life can take a lot of effort and cooking a bun in the oven, yeah talk about mentally and physically exhausting.  Add on to that the death of my great grandmother, moving out of an apartment into a new house, a graduating husband (who started grad school three weeks after graduation), my sister's wedding, a wedding shower for my friend I tried to help plan, the death of my husband's grandmother, and a temporary job on top of that.

Yeah, life is crazy.

I still haven't caught my breath really.

My brain is fuzzy, and the saying about pregnant women loosing IQ points really scares me.  So I have been reading everything from the Qua-ran to George Bush's Decision Points.  Another one I'm on right now is Jerusalem 1913 about Palestinian-Israeli conflict.  God, please let me still have a brain after having a baby and don't let it turn into complete mush.  Oh, and a body too.  GOD PLEASE LET MY BODY BOUNCE BACK...just a little.  PLEASE.  It probably won't completely though.  I have stretch marks on the back of my thighs like a cat went ape crazy on them.  Love it.  

The Word of Sadness

Tristitia means sadness, wretchedness, unhappiness.  Isn't that ironic?  Trista's name means sadness.  I feel weird this holiday season.  It didn't feel like Thanksgiving and it doesn't feel like Christmas is coming.  These days are little more than just that; they are days.  Normal days...shouldn't they be sacred and holy?  Shouldn't they be joyful?

I miss my friend.  It's easier to talk about her these days.  Some days hurt more than others, but I know she wouldn't want me moping around.

I find that family makes the sadness better, that is, until I have to leave.  Then I am so burdened on the road home.  It's family that makes the holidays.  I can't come home for Christmas.  Sigh.  I want them to be near to me.  That would be nice.

I spoke with a woman yesterday who lost her father the Saturday before Thanksgiving.  How sad.  She was crying when she spoke about it.  I hurt for her.  The holidays are so cold without family.  Spaces remain where loved ones used to be.  As I grow older, I know more spaces will appear, seats vacated.  The winter will become colder, and little bit harsher.  It's love that keeps me warm, and I now realize that I rely heavily on my family and friends to give me hope that I don't find easily.  It'll be okay.  I think this moodiness is my cross to carry.

Fighting the Dog Days

I'm tired today.  Well, I'm tired every day, actually.  I started some new medication that's supposed to even out my newly diagnosed bipolar, but I don't think I'm bipolar.  Besides, the guy diagnosed me after only 30 minutes.  How could he know that after only 30 minutes?

I went to bed at 11 p.m. last night, woke up at 9 a.m.  I'm still dragging.  Ugh.  I hate this cloudy feeling.  I'm sooooo tired.

The heat here is thick.  It makes me not sleep very well.  I went and saw my grandparents this past weekend.  My grandfather has chest pains.  My grandmother's memory is slipping.  It's so strange watching them grow older, frailer.  Time keeps running on, and as I sat in their living room with them, I was trying so hard to hold on.  You might as well try grasping the air or holding the wind...it just flows right on through your fingers with little regard to anyone.  Time isn't biased, and it doesn't have an agenda.

Time is the only absolute thing in this world.  It's the only thing that doesn't change.   The seconds, the minutes, the hours, they all rush along in a perfectly straight line.  They move, never jolting out of place, flowing linearly outward toward the great beyond.  Only memories remain in our finite minds.  I keep grasping for the invisible.  I'm not ready for this part yet, can we please wait?  Time, please wait for me, just a few minutes.  Let me catch my breath.  Quit taking people from me.  I see your claws in them, and yes, it's only a matter of time...how ironic.  We never know when our day will come.  For some people, the end is more expected, but I don't think that makes death any easier.  And it isn't just a matter of death, it's a matter of losing innocence, losing health, losing friends to miles and spaces in between.  That's what time does; it takes away.  It doesn't give anything back, it just keeps on taking.

It's like an equation.  People all have their sums of days, more like their sums of life.  Certain sums are larger than others.  For some reason, I always feel like mine will be short.  No, I'm not talking about suicide.  I'm talking about my health, physically and mentally.  I feel like my days will be cut short,  but it's not a frightening thing.  All these pluses and minuses--there just seems to be more deductions than I think there should be.  When will I arrive at zero when there's nothing left?

Today

Today, four years ago, I lost my best friend.  I lost her on the night of her wedding day.  Just half a day earlier, I had stood by her side as she said "I do."  Four days later, they held her funeral in the same church where she was married.  It was so surreal.  I remember, I sat next to my husband.  We weren't even dating then, but I remember.  Yes, he was the one who was there for me through it all.  He sat next to me, and I remember putting my arm through his to steady myself.

I was living a nightmare.  Numbness and disbelief overcame me, so that even when I went to view her body, I didn't cry.  My mother cried, but I didn't.  I couldn't.  How can you cry about something that you don't believe is real?

How could my best friend die the night she was married?  How could she slip underneath the water in her tub?  Why didn't the police know CPR?  Why did they make her husband, who did know CPR, leave the room?  Why did they let her just lay there? 

By the time she arrived at the hospital, she hadn't breathed in 10 minutes.  Because of some weight-loss drug, her heart was too weak to be revived. 

They tried to revive her all night.  I was there...sitting 10 feet away from her.  I could hear them shuffling in and out, using all the shots of adrenaline that they could.  The machines beeping, the doctor's conversations hurried and passionate at first, then exhausted mumbling as hours ticked by.  But they never got her stable enough to life-flight her to Amarillo.  Why?  

I got to see her after that.  Looking at her hair that was curly...she hadn't had the chance to straighten it.  She would have flipped out if she saw herself in that casket.  Her makeup and hair were always immaculate, but not then, and nevermore.     

When they wheeled her casket out of the church, that's when it hit me.  I started wailing.  "Wait!  Wait!"  My mom caught me.  "I'LL NEVER GET TO SEE HER AGAIN!"

Four years ago.  I thought I was over this.  But I'm not.  This year is the hardest yet.  Maybe it's because I know she wouldn't call me crazy or psycho.  She would see what I've become, the mess of me.  She would understand.  She would sit me down and criticize me, lovingly, for never straightening my hair.  She would then do it for me, and somehow make me look like a model.  Then she would say, "I hate what that asshole did to you.  You don't deserve that.  Screw him.  We'll kick his ass."

It angered her to know that I had been raped.  I don't remember her being so mad as she was then.  "Kaylea, I'm so sorry.  I can't believe this happened to you.  NOT YOU.  You were always the innocent one."  She cried.  I sat in the dorm hallway, and I talked to her for hours.  Life changed for both of us.  It brought us back together again, just to tear us apart.  That's how it goes.  Sometimes there's just no answer.  There's no meaning.  How can I understand?  I just can't.  I have to keep going, because time doesn't stop.  It won't ever stop.