the susie solution

Posts Tagged ‘grief

This post is really for those who know me, or know my family, or knew my mom. Here I have posted the memorial service bulletin, the audio of the memorial service, and the slideshow of Mama’s life. It’s not that I object to anyone else seeing these things – but it’s not likely to mean much. It absolutely is NOT allowed to share this post or its contents in any way, shape, or form without my express consent. Please respect our family’s privacy!!

One of the hardest things in getting ready for my mom’s memorial service last December was putting together her bio for the memorial service bulletin, and then choosing the photos for and writing the narrative for the slide show.  How do you reduce 84 years of life to a mere one page of print – even single spaced, small font?  Or to a 15 minute slide show of a hundred pictures narrated by a few hundred words?  There was so much that I wanted the world to be able to see of my mom, of the very uncommon life she had lived, of just how different her choices had been from what they could so easily HAVE been, given her childhood.  Even we kids only knew such a small portion of my mom’s life.  We just didn’t realize how small until she was gone. (I do have a very small number of service programs left, so if you knew Mama and would like one, let me know; first come, first served.) If you intend to listen to the service, I suggest you look at the program first to keep the players straight.

Memorial service program

Below is the memorial service. IF YOU ARE USING INTERNET EXPLORER, you may not be able to play the .wav file, but it works fine on most other browsers. (OR contact me and I will see if I can send it to you as a file.) Corey is the first brother you hear. As Cherry explains, Brooke was unable to attend the service because both of their girls were sick, so Cherry simply led the congregation in singing “Until Then”, while Alyssa signed it. I wish there was a video of it, so you could SEE Alyssa; it was beautiful, and Mama would have loved it so. (Alyssa is a professional interpreter, and Mama was very proud of her for it.) Mama always hated the line “And things of earth that caused the heart to tremble, remembered there will only bring a smile.” She felt, as do I, that that is unscriptural; when we get to Heaven, we will be so caught up in the joy of being with Jesus that we won’t even REMEMBER the things of earth. So she had had me write a replacement verse: “And pain and anguish here that make us tremble, will be forgotten there in Jesus’ smile.” Because of a miscommunication in the last-minute shuffle, though, the version displayed to the congregation to sing was a traditional one rather than the altered one I had sent to the girls to prepare. Alyssa, though, signed it (and I sang it) as Mama had wanted it, so her wishes were at least partly honored. Tim leads off the duet of reading with Gary. The audio includes the narration of the slide show, the actual show of which is included below, so you can skip from 9:42 to 23:30 on the timer. 

The slide show, being put together in quite a bit more haste than I had hoped would be the case, with not nearly as much time for editing and proofing as it should have had, has photos left out that should have been in and photos that are redundant.  There were also a number of photos I WANTED to have, but was unable to find – probably because Mama had spent the year giving away most of her photos of her grands. We had been very careful to take “last visit pictures” with all the relatives who came to see her but when we went to put the show together, we discovered that a great number of them were nowhere to be found on Rob’s camera, either of our home computers nor even the back up harddrive.  They were just….. gone – and there was no time to contact folks to see if they had any other copies to contribute.  I ended up having to hunt up other pics from our own albums or facebook.  It hurt dreadfully that so many of the pictures of Mama’s kids and grandkids at the end of the video aren’t of her WITH them, but just of …. them … someplace.  (I bawled about it for an hour, to be honest.)  But there is at least one picture of every person in this family that Mama loved so much.

I’d intended to record the audio narration, with Mama’s favorite hymns to fill in the gaps, but since the slide show itself wasn’t  finished until into the wee hours of the morning of the service, there was no way to accomplish that.  I’d just have to do it live.  I managed to make it through by doing it from the back of the church, so I wasn’t looking at anyone, just the screen, my script, and the microphone.  (My drama training does occasionally come in useful!)  Doing it “on the fly”, though, did lead to some gaffes, the funniest of which came when I switched horses mid-stream, intending to put something more smoothly and making it worse, instead.  The subject of my brother, Tim’s, first marriage is a terribly painful one to the family, but since out of that marriage came my parents’ first three dearly loved grandchildren, Stacy, Josh and Holly, the fact of the marriage’s existence was given the same acknowledgment in Mama’s history as those of her other kids, although I didn’t name his wife.  In the later part of the narrative, I deal with the event of Tim’s second marriage.  What I originally wrote was, “Some years after Tim’s first wife left him…”, but during the service, as I was approaching that point, it occurred to me that it would be kinder to put it in a more neutral term, so I decided to change it to, “Some years after Tim’s first marriage ended….”  What came out was a most unfortunate mix. “Some years after Tim’s first wife ended….”  (Honestly, that was NOT what I meant. Even subconsciously. At least, I don’t think so. Just in case you are wondering, the woman is quite alive and has not, to my knowledge of the moment, ended.)

The slide show has been through a couple of different processes by now to get it into this format, so the photos are not as crisp as the originals, and if you full-screen the show, the photos and titles get a little fuzzier. It is beyond my technical skills to do anything about it, and I don’t want to wait another 5 months to try to figure something else out so I can get this thing done! It is what it is.

Last summer, someone sent Mama the lyrics to a modern hymn, new to her, but that I have known for some years now. I showed her this youtube of it so she could hear the melody and the voice of the original singer. She loved it, and felt it so achingly clearly expressed her feelings of what she was going through – and had yet to face at that point. As this post draws to a close, I’d like to share it with you all as well. It is titled “Jesus, Draw Me Ever Nearer”, by Keith and Kristyn Getty.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMuVeSJTC-Q  “Jesus, Draw Me Ever Nearer”

So, there you have it. 84 years reduced to a matter of minutes. SO much left out. But it is my hope that what is included will fan the warm memories of those who knew her and maybe bring back memories long-forgotten to be treasured once again.

None of us become fully the men and women we wish we could be; Mama was keenly aware of her failings. But she was also aware of, and frequently overwhelmed by, the fact that by God’s enabling, we can all be and do much better than there might be any reason to expect, and that God’s grace is more than sufficient to make up for all the ways we fall so short. The testing of Mama’s heart is now ended – and indeed, in His likeness she DID wake!

To God be the glory – GREAT things He has done!

Well, folks, I’m back. 2014 – “the year that wasn’t”, as it shall always be to me – is over.
The 5+ months since I wrote my last post have been stressful and traumatic and blessed. Although I haven’t written on this blog, I was, in fact, writing. From sometime in August until the end of October, I was writing occasional updates to my mom’s CaringBridge site, and near-daily emails to a circle of family and closest friends detailing my mom’s deterioration physically and mentally as she lost the ability to care for herself, lost her ability to think clearly, and fell prey to delirium and paranoia brought on by the tumor in her brain. I simply couldn’t also deal with trying to do this blog.
I lived at Mama’s from early August until the Sunday after her death, except for two weeks she spent in a nursing home in September, and five days she spent later in the hospital. My sister, Sandy, shared in the duty two nights/days a week. For the last seven weeks, my sister-in-love, Patti, was here for 3 weeks on, 1 week home, with other my sister-in-love, Beth, here for Patti’s week off. Mama was finally released from the sufferings of Earth to the glories of Heaven in the earliest hour of Wednesday, October 29th. The two months after Mama’s death were as intense as the months that preceded it. I spent virtually all of November sick with a nasty respiratory bug that was difficult to defeat, on top of which there was: clearing out Mama’s condo; cleaning my own house from the disaster it had become in my absence; rearranging my stuff to fit in all the stuff I brought home from Mama’s; planning her memorial service, putting together a slide show of her life, figuring out arrangements for the 20 or so out-of-town relatives here for the weekend of the memorial service; and, oh, yeah, celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’ve hardly had time to think. When we pulled out the calendar last night to do our usual New Year’s Eve review of the year past, it seemed so odd to look at it because frankly the entire year was just one big blur to me!
“So,” everyone asks me, “how are you doing?” Good question. Mostly I’d say I’m doing fine. For Mama herself, I can feel nothing but gladness that now she is HOME – no more suffering, no more pain, even the memory of them wiped away. For me… having been through this with my dad, I know what an odd beast grief is, hitting you at the unlikeliest of times, and being a no-show entirely at times when you’d expect it to attend – so this time I’m prepared. I haven’t actually had any big moments of grief yet; they may come, they may not. There is healing still to take place to deal with the trauma of Mama’s last months and days and actual death itself; to survive emotionally, it was necessary to essentially dissociate from it all at the time, but now that it’s all over it has to be faced and processed. Thankful I am that just as with physical healing from injuries, most of the work of this healing isn’t something that I have to “do”, but something that is happening as a natural process. It is hard to break out of feeling always on edge “waiting for the other shoe to drop”, a constant pressure to hurry, hurry, hurry to get things done because who knows what’s going to happen how soon to pull me away. I guess I have something like “phantom limb pain” – I’m still trying to juggle “phantom balls”, having trouble getting used to the fact that they just aren’t there anymore. I struggle with requests to do things for other people, no matter how near and dear; however selfish it may sound to those who haven’t been through something like this, I’m flat-out tired of dealing with other people’s needs. My emotional energy battery is dead, dead, dead. I’d give much to be able to just go away somewhere, all by myself, to a place where I had nothing that I had to be responsible for and no one whose feelings I had to worry about or whose emotional needs I was expected to meet, where I could just take a break from all of life. But life doesn’t generally give you bereavement leave, or days off. (You may have noticed.) Somehow it just keeps coming at you, day after day. Unless you’re in the grip of a mental condition such as depression or bipolar, you either get “stuck” or you choose to somehow put one foot in front of the other and keep moving, however slowly.
There is so much that has happened this last year that has given me food for thought. I have written dozens and dozens of blog posts in my head; I hope that much of the gist of them will make it to publication here as I work through things. In one of my CaringBridge posts, I made a comment that God has promised to get us through – but He never promised that it would be pretty. He certainly was faithful to get us through this past year – but it wasn’t pretty. Like a chemist’s solution, my heart and mind are a confusing and sometimes conflicting mixture of many different feelings and thoughts. I don’t know that I’ll get them sorted into any kind of neat order, but it’s ok if I don’t. Having “answers” is highly overrated.
Now that I’m back to my own life, it’s time to sally forth and see what lies ahead in this next phase. As the Lord did for the Israelites, I know that He has passed ahead of me over the Jordan and has prepared the way ahead.

Tally ho!


To most people, a solution is the answer to a problem. To a chemist, a solution is something that's all mixed up. Good thing God's a chemist, because I'm definitely a solution!

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