Tomorrow marks the first anniversary of my Mother's passing. It's surreal in so many ways - time truly does fly. But, this past year has been full of teachable moments for my children and myself. So, in honor of my Mom, I'm sharing my Top 5 Things I've Learned In A Year Without My Mom.

8/24/15 - #5 - Grief is A Sneaky Son-of-a-B%$@#

8/25/15 - #4 - Stuff is Just Stuff Until It Is A Memory

8/26/15 #3 - I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends and Family

#2 - Without Faith you Fail, Fall Flat, Fizzle, Flop & Flounder


My Mom had faith in God like no one I've ever known. Her passion for Jesus was breathtaking and left others in awe - especially during her cancer battle. I had friends from far and wide send me messages that her Caringbridge updates became their devotions. Mama didn't like what was happening, but she knew where she was heading and she was ready to go home.

It's true that you don't realize how important something is until it is gone. My Mom loved to send cards. She sent them to everyone for any event. What made them special was that they were always covered in scripture. There were usually at least two Bible verses inside of the card and one written on the outside of the envelope. I miss those cards. I miss the random envelopes that would come to my mailbox stuffed with copies of a newspaper or magazine article she wanted me to read, or BoxTops she saved for the girls school or a brochure of a play that was coming soon to Davidson Community Players or The Old Courthouse Theater that she wanted me to put on my calendar. Those random envelopes always had versus of God's word written on the outside. Usually some of the same ones - Jeremiah 29:11, Proverbs 3:5-6, Philippians 4:13. I would pay a king's ransom to have one of those show in my mailbox right now. Heck, I would pay a double king's ransom if I would have just saved one envelope.

Don't get me wrong. As I've written before, my Mom and I didn't see eye to eye on religion, faith and the Bible. I participated in a Bible Study at Dilworth Church this spring on Hope and the Book of Jeremiah. My fellow participants got an earful about our faith differences. There were many, many times when she was alive that those scripture-filled envelopes really pissed me off because they contained an article on a topic where we vehemently disagreed. I've actually had multiple daydreams wondering what it will be like when I get to Heaven - who will get to say "I told you so??" 

But, the faith I have found this year. My faith. It has saved me a 1,000,000 times over. There is no other reason to explain how in those darkest days last winter that I actually got up out of bed and put one foot in front of the other. I did it because I knew that something bigger and better than me knew the plans for me and didn't want to harm me. Because I believed in my core that I could get through ANYTHING with Christ's strength. It's not my Mom's faith. It's heavily influenced by her  - I kept so many of her devotion books and I read her copy of "Jesus Calling" every morning - but if she were here we would still disagree about A LOT. This is my faith. This is my version of #yellowpixiedust. Her influence, my life. 

Conversations about faith can be funny. I get so upset when I read Facebook posts and other social media. Christians can be pretty darn mean to each other. I totally get it why there is a huge number of people out there who just don't have faith because they see all the Christians fighting and judging with each other. So I'll just say this. MY faith saved me. MY believe that God's got a plan for my life saved me. MY belief that Jesus forgives and accepts EVERYONE regardless of their lifestyle or preferences or sins. MY faith believes that only God can judge, we don't get a say. That's my faith. It maybe different than yours, but please don't judge. Just let Jesus and all the #yellowpixiedust keep guiding me along.

PS - Mama's Special Bible Versus from Her Funeral Service

So, just like thank you cards for all the flowers and donations (she will never, ever forgive me but those just DID NOT HAPPEN), I am remiss in posting the list of "special versus" my Mom requested to be read at her service. This is totally Betty. She picked one particular staff member at Epworth and told her that when she died, this person was to read these versus at her service. Not one or two of them - ALL OF THEM. And, as was quoted in Mama's service, they were to be read in the New King James Version, not in that hippy The Message version (that her daughter really loves).

So many of you asked for that list of scripture because it was not printed in the program. Because NO ONE knew that it was coming :-)!!

So, almost a year later, I'm sorry, but here it is:

Deuteronomy 4:39 + 6:4-5
Proverbs 3:5-6
Psalm 91:1-2
Psalm 103:1-5
Psalm 119:57-60; 89-95; 105; 159-168
Psalm 139:13-18
Micah 6:8
Matthew 22:37-40
John 11; 25-26
John 14:1-4
Philippians 4:13

Friday marks the first anniversary of my Mother's passing. It's surreal in so many ways - time truly does fly. But, this past year has been full of teachable moments for my children and myself. So, in honor of my Mom, I'm sharing my Top 5 Things I've Learned In A Year Without My Mom.

8/24/15 - #5 - Grief is A Sneaky Son-of-a-B%$@#

8/25/15 - #4 - Stuff is Just Stuff Until It Is A Memory

#3 - I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends and Family

I owe my sanity to my friends and family. These people, my village, have surrounded me with love and support from the day my Mom was diagnosed through her battle and her death until right now this minute (thank you for the perfectly timed card, Connie Cagle). My friends and family are a ginormous part of the reason that I'm standing upright today.

To all of you THANK YOU! Thank you for all of it - the cards, texts, Facebook messages, phone calls, gifts, flowers, food, hugs, tears, laughter, concern - everything. Thank you for propping me up and taking care of my kids and packing boxes and checking-in and letting me cry and making me laugh. To my neighbors and my Circle and my school Moms and my besties and my church congregation and my professional peers - thank you, thank you, thank you for making me feel loved and supported, and showing me grace after losing my most enthusiastic cheerleader.

But there is another set of friends who have become truly like family that have been a saving grace. And they have saved me by their gace. These people are ones who I can talk to from a place of experience resulting in a deeper understanding of what the last year has been like. And most of these are newly acquired friends. 

There's the amazing mama who is fighting her own battle with ovarian cancer and inspires me with her strength, courage and faith. There are all of the others who have lost a parent somewhere along the way. And there are my "soul sisters" who are card carrying members in this crappy sorority of women who have lost their moms. These people get me - my moods, my tears, my "I'm fines", my anger, my joy, my happiness, my moving on, my standing still - because it is a reflection of their own experience.

Grief should never be handled alone. And really, neither should life. We all need each other to show love and kindness and compassion and patience. I've learned this year that I cannot do it alone and I am grateful that I didn't.

Friday marks the first anniversary of my Mother's passing. It's surreal in so many ways - time truly does fly. But, this past year has been full of teachable moments for my children and myself. So, in honor of my Mom, I'm sharing my Top 5 Things I've Learned In A Year Without My Mom.

8/24/15 - #5 - Grief is A Sneaky Son-of-a-B%$@#



#4 Stuff Is Just Stuff Until It Is A Memory

My Mom worked really hard to stay in control of her destiny until the end. If you kept up with Caringbridge, you knew that Mom wrote her obituary and planned her memorial service down to the last scripture. But, ironically, my Mama didn't leave a lot of instruction about what to do with her "stuff."  

After all of the instructions about what I was supposed to do when she was gone, it was a little weird that there were only two material wishes.  First, I was to keep her antique bedroom furniture and second her sofa was high quality and I needed to keep it or choose wisely who got it. This should have been enlightening to me. This should tell me that my Mama was already on a higher-plane and knew that stuff was stuff was stuff. And stuff doesn't go to Heaven. 

Last September, I went into hyper-fast-clean-out-mode regarding packing up/giving away her condo. I think I thought if I sold it fast it would hurt less. But every time I went to the condo to pack with a well-meaning friend, I became frustrated with trying to answer questions like "April are you sure you want to get rid of this? April if you don't want this can I have it?" I wanted it gone, but I didn't want to make the call. I am grateful to Jen and Meredeth and Lori for taking time to be there with me as I went room by room purging. In retrospect, the coolest thing is everyone found something they wanted before I packed it up to take to CVAN. (Mom DID specify where she wanted me to donate her things). And early in the packing process, we invited the women from Concord's Women Specialty Care and the members of Epworth Church to come and claim a piece of mom . . . .a memory.

Fast forward through a flood from a broken hot-water heater that destroyed the condo floors and put a halt to the "quick sale" prospects, the months on MLS with no interested buyers and then the quick-close-in-two-weeks-sale to  a woman who really needed a new start (and the fabulous sofa and kitchen table and the other furniture that remained in the condo. Stuff isn't stuff when it's another woman's answered prayer and path to her independence). The yellow pixie dust was palpable in the condo and I know that the new owner  is experiencing a true blessing by living there.

The condo may be gone, but our garage attic in Charlotte is busting at the seams. It is impossible to toss my Mama's memories - her stuff. First, a lot of her stuff is my stuff. Boxes of photos and memorabilia from Governor's School and NC Junior Miss and Mt. Pleasant High School and Duke and more. That's my life and my stuff - I'm not ready to let go. Second, I inherited all of my MaMaw Ruth's stuff. The antique photos and oil lamp and pictures and china - stuff my Mom couldn't part with. Does that mean I need to figure out how to save it too?

Then there are the Bibles, Sunday School materials and prayer journals. Boxes and boxes of those.  I decided if she wrote in it, we needed to keep it, but if it was clean we could give to Epworth. Those are up in the attic for awhile. That stuff represents my Mom's faith journey.

Then there is the stuff that made it's way into my life. Camden took all of her earrings and wears some of her clothes. It's so odd sometimes to look at something and thing that it is vaguely familiar and then realize why. Cooking always opens up a memory opportunity from the stainless steel knife I remember using the first time I made dinner for my parents to the sheet cake pan that carried red velvet birthday cake up 85 every year I was at Duke (much to the happiness of my roommates and friends). That stuff is comforting.

And then I know there will be waves of nostalgia and sadness at Christmas when I take out the box of her decorations and decide what to use and what to donate. I couldn't deal with that right now.

My Mom never worried about stuff because she knew she didn't need it in Heaven. But I'm really glad that there was still a lot of it to go through and to keep with me always.

On Friday I will celebrate the 1st Anniversary of Losing My Mom. That's surreal. The person who had the majority of the responsibility of bring me into this life almost 46 years has not been on this planet for almost 1 year. A full year of holidays and memories and firsts and lasts and birthdays and anniversaries and crappy days and amazing moments and  celebrations and all those things that you would pick up the phone and call your Mom to tell about.  Bam! Gone!

So, in honor of my year of loss, I would like to share some of what I've gained and learned in 12 months of grief. Here are the Top Five Things I've Learned When You Lose Your Mom:


#5: Grief Is A Sneaky Son-of -A B*$#^!

I'm a cryer. I tear-up over everything. My girls have reached the stage of "roll-their-eyes-mom-is-getting-choked-up-again." First days, last days, performances, nighttime prayers, worship services, praise music, a song on the radio, an email from a friend, a random text, a Youtube video, a Facebook share . . .you name it. Anything of emotional value tugs at my tear ducts and makes me boo-hoo!

I cannot blame this on my Mom's death. I've been a "cry-baby' since birth. But even though I wear my emotions on my sleeve it hasn't changed the fact that grief is a beast. Oh you cry when you are supposed to in the weeks following a loss. The funeral service, packing up the house, saying goodbye to material things. But I believe our society is programmed to have us just MOVE ON. Enough is enough! You've had your 15 minutes of grief so now it is time to move on.

Grief laughs at that cultural expectation. It lets you think you are strong and then sends a searing memory to the brain or a special scent to the nose or a unique sound to the hear or a intimate visual to the eyes that punches you in the gut and doubles you over in pain. Nope. I am not fine. I suck, thank you very much. I lost my mom which is equivalent to a boat losing its anchor. 

I've learned in this year that when those punches to the gut come, just roll with it. Be sad. Cry. Be really, really pissed off. Those punches are God's way of saying "Sweetie - you aren't healed regardless of how much you want to move on and be normal. Slow down, remember, sit with me and cry."

But last night I got a new wake up call. I have selfishly thought that I'm the only one that B*&%$ Grief is messing with, and now I know she has all of our numbers.

We were several hours into the annual Dilworth Jubilee. I was happily ensconced in one corner of Latta Park with my friends and my hubby and my cooler, and my daughters had free reign of the park. I see Middle Mae heading our way with a tear-streaked face. I steeled myself for the inevitable drama and scurried down the hill so that my friends wouldn't be exposed to it. 

Me: " Honey what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Middle Mae: "The Slides. The Slides. She loved the slides."
Me: "Honey - who? I don't understand. Why are you crying so hard? Let's calm down."
Middle Mae:  "Maw Maw! She would act so crazy on those slides and would laugh and laugh. And Mommy it is just making me cry thinking about it."
Me: "Oh sweet Middle Mae yes! It's okay honey. I know you miss your Maw Maw." And lots and lots of heavy, heavy tears. 

Who the freak are we kidding? I was a blubbering mess at this point and could not parent her much. I could just say "Honey, she loved you and she will always be right there with you and yes I miss her too."

And that's all you can do with grief. When it comes up slyly out of nowhere and knocks you to your knees you just have to collapse. Grief requires acknowledgement even if you cannot give it the full experience.

So yes. I cry a lot these days.  Luckily, I have a lot of triggers. Maybe grief is the underlying emotion, but there is so much hope and joy and love and new beginnings on top of the grief. Especially when I think about spreading yellow pixie dust!

XOXO, April