I walked into the once warm and welcoming living room that was now full of medical equipment and endless flowers. I sat against the one bare wall that was hung with black and white family pictures, the Salt Lake temple, and "The Family: A Proclamation to the World". If there was one thing I needed right now, it was the gospel, and it was the pure love of Christ that was going to get me through this trial; that was the one truth I could not deny.
I watched two men as they wheeled my mothers bagged body out of my house. Screaming, I begged them to let her stay the night. My grandmother on my fathers side tried to calm me as she explained that my mom was gone, that was simply her body. Which I knew, of course I knew that. But at the time I just wanted her. I mean she was still right there! I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. I didn't want this to be the last time she was in our home. Because this wasn't home without her. It was just a house. It was the home she built for her family; for her children. So many crazy whirlwind emotions played through my thoughts and soul and I will never wish them upon my worst enemy. Nobody should ever have to experience the pain of that night; not at that age.
I didn't sleep that night. Nobody did. The next morning, officially, Christmas Eve, my dad took me to the mall to find a dress for the funeral. I dont remember finding anything that I liked. No 14 year old girl should be going shopping the day before Christmas to find a dress to wear to her moms funeral. My dance director, Mandy Shaw, picked me up one day and took me to lunch and shopping to find an outfit to wear to the viewing. A simple blue dress with beautiful jewelry and we bought matching bracelets. She made a necklace for me that has a picture of me and my mom on the front and the letter 'B' on the back. Little things like that meant so much.
I don't remember my moms viewing. I remember seeing a few people in line. Honestly there were hundreds. But I specifically remember a few. People tell me I wasn't myself. I had taken medication for anxiety which is probably a large factor as to why I didn't behave as most would have expected. They say I acted happy. I know I didn't cry. I don't remember my moms funeral at all either. I couldn't tell you who spoke, couldn't tell you what I wore or what my moms casket looked like. The funeral was held at an LDS stake center and it was completely packed. There was not an empty seat in the building. My mother was loved by so many people. Still to this day I get messages on Facebook and random texts and emails from former students, colleagues, or friends with a random memory or reminder of how much they loved my mom. I remember my cousin Cassidy sang and couldn't get through the song because she got choked up. As far as saying goodbye to my mom, I remember kissing her sweet head, looking at her face one last time and feeling an overwhelming feeling of love from her. It was the closure that I needed to get through at least the next couple of weeks without her. Even though I would later learn that she has done so much more for me and we have grown so much closer from the other side of the veil rather than if she was still here. Don't get me wrong, I would do absolutely anything to have my mom by my side. I wish she would have been there for all of my many dance competitions. My first homecoming, my last prom, high school graduation, seeing me dance for the Utah Jazz, or even be my shoulder to cry on. Life would be so different if she was still here. But she has lead me to some amazing people that are now my support system, the little thought in my head when I hear "put your seatbelt on", or guiding me to my eternal companion all of those things I know are coming from my angel in heaven. And when I cry for her, she is always there with one of her amazing hugs waiting for me. My heart feels the warmth of her love and often times my anxiety eases as I pray to my Father in heaven for my earthly mother in heaven. I know she is there, I know she is with my brother, Grady, and I know that families are eternal, if we continue to do our part.
I don't cry as I write this. I don't cry when I think of my mom anymore, I smile. Because 6 years later time has helped heal that wound. Things don't get better, but time helps ease the pain. I wish I could say that was the last of the trials in our family, but the hard times only seemed to get harder from there. Our once eternal family of 5 was slowly gravitating away from each other without noticing. Funny how little changes day to day, but when you look back years later, absolutely nothing is the same.
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