May is always a very hard month for me to get through. I lost my father at the age of 63 in a horrific car accident in May of 2002 when his car went off the road and into Lake Hartwell in SC. He was driving back from working a Tres Dias men’s weekend in Virginia. (A non-denominational Christian Retreat) It took divers, helicopters and rescue dogs 2 ½ days to find his body in the water. There we were; my family sitting on the banks of the lake with the Red Cross watching something that seemed surreal and like a movie, not like something that was actually happening to us. There are no words to describe the way it felt to go through that. My mother and father had known each other since my mom was 14 and my dad was 16. They had been married for 42 years. It was so hard to see my mother go through losing my dad. She was never the same but she was so brave!
Two years later, New Years day, my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The next six months were like slow torture. My best friend, my wisdom resource, my children’s “nana” slowly slipped away from us and went to be with Jesus in May 0f 2004 at the age of 61. I was still not even close to being over the loss of my dad and now I had this to deal with as well.
It doesn’t feel like it was 7 and 5 years ago to me, it feels much fresher and newer than that. Not a day goes by when I don’t wish I could pick up the phone and tell my mom something cute that one of the kids said, or ask my dad for advice on a decision I am facing . It is really a weird feeling being an orphan. I was always the one that brought my friends home to my house because we always had big family “to do’s”. My house was where everyone wanted to be and to hang out.
At my mother’s funeral some very close friends of my mom and dad came up to me and asked me how I was doing. I told him and his wife, that if I were playing a game of Scrabble that I would use my next turn to trade in all my letters and get new ones. I don’t know if you have ever played the game but each player is working with seven letters at a time, one of the rules is that if you have terrible letters and you are unable to spell anything, you can throw all your letters back in the pile and choose 7 new ones.
A few days later, they stopped by our house to check on us and visit for awhile. When they were leaving they handed me a little organza bag with a drawstring at the top. They hugged me and said they had been, and would continue to pray for me and our family. It was a very tearful visit and I could only handle so much at a time so I had slipped the little bag into my purse to look at later. The next day, when I went to get my car keys I pulled it out. Here is what I found:
I have NEVER stopped believing! I know that God has a purpose for my life and that He knows the depth of my hurt. I also believe that He has used that part of me to influence others. I do not understand why this has happened to our family and none of it makes any sense to me. But I still believe that it will some day. Sort of like looking at the wrong side of a needlepoint or a cross stitch picture. You see all the crazy threads going everywhere and the knots, etc. But on the other side, there is a beautiful picture.
I know this in my head, I also know it in my heart. But the hurt is still there and every May it is just hard. I spend this month praying Mayday, Mayday.
Spend time with the people you love!
Believe, Grow…. Bloom!
Karyn, The Bloom Girls
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