General Conference Weekend

I always look forward to General Conference weekend.  Aside from the many beautifully prepared and presented talks, its a time to be together with my family, a stress-free Sunday where I can sit and listen and have my cup filled.  I’ve tried to make it fun for the children by making a special breakfast, usually cinnamon rolls.  Today, as I listen to the talks and busy myself with work I can do with my hands while watching, I’m thinking of my sister-in-law Paige who lost her daughter only 6 months ago Sunday morning right before the spring General Conference.  I had made two pans of cinnamon rolls to share with the families that I expected to gather at the Smith home.  Those cinnamon rolls were never touched.  It was a defining day for Paige and her husband and their children.  And a defining day for all of the people who love them.  The moment that terrible news was delivered in shock and hurried disbelief, I think some part of each of us knew that Kraven was gone.  My thoughts are with Paige today as they celebrate their second daughter’s birthday.  It is sad that such a good thing (General Conference) also serves as a reminder that a member of the family is missing.  Paige has endured these past 6 months as an inspiration to everyone around her.  She is not defeated, nor has she let herself been given over to dispair.  She’s mourned, and hurt, and missed her daughter with the same characteristic cheerfulness and faith that she’s been known for all her life.  It is hard to believe it has only been 6 months, and at the same time its hard to believe Kraven is really gone.  I am so glad to have the opportunity to listen to these talks today.  Six months ago I asked for people’s prayers for Paige and her family and I’m asking again today.  If you could take a moment, I do think that prayer helps to comfort and lift those who need it.

 

20/20

I was looking through some piles of papers looking for an itemized bill from the an optometrist visit last year and I found this notebook that Kraven left at our house two years ago in Lynchburg. Finding things like that feels like opening a portal to the next world. I searched the pages hoping to find some thoughts Kraven might have had. I had to laugh when the only page with writing on it were words of frustration. “I wish mye mom was nis” I know she must have been frustrated when she wrote that because the red colored pencil marks are deeply embedded in the page. Had she known I was looking for her true thoughts of her mother when she wrote in that notebook I know she would have been able to fill the pages with all the things she loved about her life, her family, her friends. And maybe she did journal. But all I have is a notebook I should have returned years ago. A tiny little snapshot of a momentary frustration. That brings me to a thought that I’ve heard expressed many times over which seems very insensitive. I’m an emotional writer. I only write when something strikes me. When I wrote about Kraven’s death, I was obviously emotional and I never clarified some things. First of all Kraven did not drown. When I first heard the awful news, that is what I heard. But not long after it became apparent that something else caused Kraven’s premature death. People have said (indirectly) “Why didn’t they watch her in the bathtub.” Which is absurd if you think for one second about how you bathe your children. I don’t watch my 6 year old in the tub. I check on him, and that is exactly what Paige did when she found Kraven unconcious. If a parent were to sit in the bathroom with a child who is nearly 10 years old bathing–people would say there was something wrong with that. I know that adults know better than to say something like that to anyone connected to Kraven’s family, but they apparantly don’t know better than to say stuff like that in front of their kids. And kids are honest, they just say what they hear. And guess what? Children at school repeat it and Kraven’s cousins and sisters hear it. So to answer the question that people are asking in their own homes, to friends, within earshot of their children. Nobody told Kraven’s parents that thier daughter was going to die that day. If they had known, they would have taken an axe to the bathtub that very morning. They would have put her somewhere safe, had all the bathtubs in the kingdom destroyed. They would have done everything humanly possible to protect their child. Just like you would, or I would. I think its hard to process a child dying like that with no explanation. And I think it scares us as parents to think that we can’t protect our children from dying. Not having control over their lives is a hard thing to get a grip on. If we can blame something, someone for what happened then we feel less vulnerable because we wouldn’t make that mistake. But tragedies are tragedies because we have no control over the overpowering force. It was just her time to go. All the futile “what ifs”, if they were played out I believe would come to the same conclusion. Not what we wanted, but what was supposed to happen.

 

Things I’ve learned about funerals

1. Food! Holy smokes I’ve never seen so much food flow into one household before in my life. Apparantly, there are two kinds of people in the world. The kind who hang back and are afraid to “bother” the mourning family and the kind who show up with arms full of food, paper goods, flowers and lots of hugs.

2. I am the kind of person who hangs back. Until now.

3. It takes a special kind of person to dress and and prepare the dead.

4. A mother never runs out of tears.

5. Its bittersweet to be reunited with so many people we haven’t seen in a long time.

6. When someone asks if there is something they can do and there is–let them. It makes everyone feel better.

7. Children are very insightful.

8. Family is so important. Friends are too.

9. A “perfect brightness of hope” is what makes us able to smile in tragic times like this.

 

Dear Kraven,

There are so many things I wish today. I wish I could have been humble enough to learn all the hard, sad lessons I’ve learned in the past few days while you were alive. Family relationships are important. Every single one. I know you knew that. You learned it from your mother. Now that everyone is stricken and reverent I see how families need each member, no matter how tiny to absorb our hurts and emptiness. We are tied eternally to each other. I keep thinking of when I found out I had cancer and you were so concerned. You took on more worry than a child your age should have. You took on more than any other child did. You were such a deeply empathetic soul. I wish I would have been more empathetic toward you while you were alive. That is what makes my heart sick. I wish I would have invited you to spend the night at my house as you requested several times. I wish I would have, but I didn’t and that has made me think hard about how I need to open up my heart to the children in our family. I will love and cherish them. I don’t think that Hila understands how you are gone from us right now. I have always loved the way you made room for her and made her part of the group even though she is much younger. She loves and looked up to you so much. We miss you, sweet girl.

Eternally your Aunt,

Jessica

 

Grief

I’ve been observing grief and I think the mind is very powerful. People walking around in a daze, staring off somewhere, their minds flashing, searching, grasping at pleasant and unpleasant memories. Its like our minds have to catalogue everything at once to determine what our memory will be of this person. Some little (or big) part of our soul that is lost. The spectrum of emotions from joy to profound sorrow are there in people’s faces, but the mind has taken hold. Protecting, I think.

** A friend emailed this morning and this was part of my response

 

It doesn’t seem possible

I feel sick. I’ve never felt so sick to my heart. My sweet sister in law was visited by the nightmare no mother should ever have to endure this morning. My niece slipped out of this world. It doesn’t even seem possible. At this moment she is on life support. Her body is going through all the motions, but she is gone. She never recovered brain activity. Her organs will be the miracle other families have been praying for. It just doesn’t seem possible. What amazes me is the strength Paige has, to keep walking, keep moving, keep having faith. I am watching my 6 year old neice who just whitnessed the nightmare unfold. Children too, are amazing. She’s playing and laughing with my daughter. Out of the blue she stopped what she was doing and said, “I think Kraven is in heaven.” I just waited to hear what she felt like telling me. The aweful scene came out, without a tear. Matter of fact. Like her mind has suspended all connection to her heart. My neice Kraven drowned in the bathtub. She simply fell asleep and didn’t wake up. She’s nearly 10 years old, you just don’t think a child that age is in any danger in the bathtub. It doesn’t seem possible. At the trauma center they are running tests to find out why she didn’t wake up. I can not imagine the depth of sorrow my sister and brother in law are experiencing at the moment. I have asked everyone I’ve spoken to to pray for my sister in law’s family. They need all the prayers they can get right now.