Deep Sorrow

At 4:35 this afternoon, I got a call from Don's father. He had been working at the church all morning and returned home around 3 p.m. to find Don's mother on the kitchen floor. He called 911, but she was already dead. The phone was laying near her - it appears she tried to call for help, but we believe she had a massive heart attack and died before she could make the call.

I'm trying to get laundry done now and packing so we can leave during the night. After calling Don at work, telling the children, and calling my parents, I called our dear friend, Nicki, who used to live with us. She immediately came over and walked me and the children through the remainder of the day. While I took Deanna down to the school to get her books to take with us so she can stay caught-up on schoolwork, Nicki began a list at home of all the details we needed to tend to. As Don thought of things, he'd call them out and Nicki would write them down. By the time I got home, they had quite a nice list.

As I made each phone call to arrange replacements for teaching Sunday School or chaperoning the Field Trip, people volunteered to help with other things. I was able to mark about 2 items off my list for every one call I made. It was amazing.

I'm still numb, staying very focused on getting the work done. Don has said very little to me, but I'm sure he's still in a state of shock, also. Deanna posted her thoughts, very deep and sad, on her Blog, and we had a chance to talk about how she was doing. All she can think about is all the things she wanted to do with her grandma in the future and won't get to now.

As I was tucking Dane in, I scooted him over and climbed in bed with him. He had gone off to bed without being told or asked, and I was concerned that was him fading into the woodwork. I asked him how he was doing.

"It's going to be so different now, Mommy," he said. "Grandma always kept the candy dishes filled and made cookies for us when we came to visit. There's not going to be anyone to do that now."

Each of us are beginning to feel our loss in our own ways. I keep thinking of all the years with the children she'll miss and how Daelyn never got to stay for his week with them. He barely knew Grandma and never got his "special" time with her. For years, I've said that I was thankful Don's parents were so much younger than mine, because when mine were gone, I'd still have a set of parents. Both of mine have outlived her. I just can't quite get my mind around that.

I keep thinking of little things. Dane's worried about the candy dish, I'm worried about the dog and the pond. What's Grandpa going to do with Sassy, Grandma's dog? And she was the one who always reminded him to feed the fish in the pond. I was taking Dane's clothes out of his dresser drawer and ran across a pair of pajamas that are too long. I pulled them out of the dresser and added them to the pile of things to take, thinking, "Mom and I can hem these while I'm there."

I've thought about the amythst earrings that I bought her for Christmas this year that match the bracelet I gave her last year and the Healing Garden products that I've stashed away for her. She was so much a part of our lives and thoughts, it will be quite sometime before the realization begins to sink in that there will be no more Christmases with her, no more shared recipes, no more loving advice and kind ear to bend when I'm struggling.

And now I'm just rambling. I need to finish packing, but it's hard to pull myself away from these thoughts. I'm sure I'll have many more over the next few weeks as I begin to better understand the loss we've suffered.

Carole Doughty, my mother-in-law, was a loving, kind, charitable woman who treated me as a beloved daughter. The very things we loved about her the most are the things that make her death so hard to accept. But we have wonderful memories. I just wish we had more of them.