Reality is living in the aftermath of watching you suffer and die is much more difficult than I ever imagined.

Reality is it has been nearly four years since our world was flipped upside down and nearly three years since I naively thought the nightmare was over.  Truly, it was only beginning.

Time marches on, but I remain stuck in time. The world moves. I move too, but never forward.  

Reality is you have been gone for almost three years, but my grief shows no signs of relenting.

What is real is the perpetual lump in my throat.

What is real are the tears which threaten to spill at any moment, on any day, for any reason.

The bitterness and anger which weigh down my soul...they are real too.  As is the envy which rears its ugly head with an embarrassingly humbling frequency.

The constant assault of memories of every single way I failed you as a mother? Yeah. This brutality is hands down my least favorite form of real.

Reality is, while you were alive, while you were suffering, my faith was strong and it literally saved me. I clung to Him.  I clung to Him, not because I was strong, but rather because I had no choice.  I was so weak I had no choice but to embrace the weakness and cling to Him in faith. This was the only way to survive.  There was no time to think.  Every moment was an opportunity to live with you. We were in survival mode.

Reality is survival mode was a much brighter place to live in than the aftermath has been. 

Survival mode meant constant surrender to Him and whatever His will had in store for you, for us. Constant surrender led to a peace which permeated my soul. 

Survival mode meant choosing joy every moment so as not to waste a single moment. Our house was never before, and has not been since, as joyful as it was during the eleven months we spent choosing joy with you.

Survival mode meant modeling unyielding trust in the goodness of His holy will, and whatever suffering it brought with it, in hopes that your faith would not waiver at the moment of death.  Trust in the goodness of His holy will soothed my pain, and I hope it did yours as well. Our purpose on this earth, our only purpose, remained at the forefront of every thought.  "This is NOT the end," was our constant mantra. This perspective, even now, makes it seem like so much less of a cross.  Unfortunately, most of the time in the aftermath, I forget this truth.

Reality is those months were difficult, but our faith, choosing joy, and trusting in Him, literally kept us afloat and allowed us to weather the storm with relative ease.  

When I awoke a few hours after your soul had departed and your body had been released from our home, the weight of all that had happened began to descend upon me.  For the first time since diagnosis I allowed myself to feel it, and it was heavy.  Darkness immediately entered in, bringing with it doubt, which three years later continues to torment my soul. That darkness descended upon me, remains in me, and has continued to fester for nearly three years now.  

Of those nearly three years, this last year has proven to be the worst.  As I wrote above, time marches on.  While I've been mentally imprisoned in 2019, everyone around me has moved forward with the march of time. Gabe, still newly confirmed and fresh out of grade 8 in my mind, has grown into an adult man, ready to graduate high school and leave the nest. JP was just confirmed and moves on to high school next fall. It's like a repeat of 4 years ago without me understanding how it's all happening again when it just happened. Emeric?  He's no longer the baby. He's finishing sixth grade and is about to make me the shortest member of our family. My greatest shock though, is seeing the infants you held in your sickness grown into independent four year olds. Time marches on and my brain fails to fully comprehend it.  

While the rest of the world is moving further and further away from what happened, I am just waking up to the reality of it. This awakening has been intensified in the past six months. I am now for the first time feeling the weight of all of this sans medication. This is difficult, but I think it is a process I need to go through. 

The reality is, in my grief I have lost focus of the truths which sustained me through those darkest hours and gave me joy in the midst of suffering. I have forgotten the most important realities:
-I am a child of God.
-You always belonged to Him and were only on loan to us.
-This world is not our final destination.
-This world is nothing but the blink of an eye in eternity.
-Your soul, my soul, all of our souls, were made to be with Him in heaven.
-His plan is ALWAYS for the good of our souls, therefore, peace is found in surrender to His holy will.
-Joy is a choice, and can be possessed in the midst of the greatest crosses.
-All the saints carried gigantic crosses.
-You left this earth in a state of grace...mission complete.
-He cried with me.
-He rejoiced for you...because He KNOWS the end of the story!
-He carried me.
-He loves you more than I do.
-He knows what He's doing.
-I'm in good company. No one knows the pain of watching a child suffer and die more intimately than sweet Mama Mary.
-Light shatters the darkness.
-You spent countless hours scouring the internet reading about saints throughout your childhood. Now you reside with them, or certainly will someday if you are still purgatory.
-Purgatory is a wonderful gift!
-This is not the end.
-The reality is without Him this life is pointless.
-What so many turn their backs on and throw away, you clung to, and treasured.
-Your suffering is gone.
-Your mission continues on the other side of the veil.
-You're more alive than ever.
-All my mistakes and failings no longer hurt you.
-Goldfinches covering a tree
-An oriole literally knocking on the front window
-Creeping Phylox blooming on your grave in December
-The beautiful cloud pointing out the direction to your funeral Mass
-A monstrosity of a dandelion
-The clearing of your complexion moments after death
-A dragonfly refusing to fly away and allowing humans to pet it

It's all real. All of it. The devil tries to convince me it's not. He's a liar and delights in messing with my naturally pessimistic head.

So what is reality?  Reality is I'm a hot mess. I'm a hot mess, and that's okay.  It's okay, but I don't want to stay a hot mess forever. I need to find my way back to focusing on the beauty of truth.  Without which, I would never have made it this far.Doubt and despair are friends of darkness and enemies of the light. We must cling to the light and find our solace in Him and in His truths.

Rest in peace, sweet girl. Help me to see reality clearly.  Pray for me.  Pray for all of us.  We need your prayers.

Good afternoon, my sweet girl.  I made it to the cemetery to switch the advent wreath out for a bit of wintery-Christmas decor.  In my efforts to tidy things up a bit, I knelt down to pick up what I thought were loose petals of artificial flowers that had blown onto the green creeping/moss phlox in front of your stone.  However, once my old eyes got closer I realized they were far from artificial petals in need of pick up.  Rather, they were buds on the creeping/moss phlox, trying to open...ON DECEMBER 29!  Granted, today we have unseasonably warm weather (mid fifties), but in the last week we've had highs of : -8, 3, 5, 14, 16, 36, and 48.  I even checked all my phlox in the backyard (which is always the first/warmest area to produce blooms in the spring,) they are all bare. From the bottom of this plant-loving mama's heart, I ask you, sweet girl, to thank Him for this little gift to me. Thank Him for giving me this bit of unexpected and unseasonable beauty in the midst of this dark winter I've been living in.
All my love,
Mama

Chances are very likely if you have asked for prayers in the past couple months, and I have responded, I have prayed.  I have prayed, but I've also asked her to pray and placed your intention in this beautiful box in her room.  This connection of seeking intercession from our friends on earth as well as those in purgatory and heaven is a powerful comfort and reminder we are all together as part of Holy Mother Church.  I love asking her to pray.  It reminds me that she still lives and has a mission.  Before she died, dear Fr. Parker encouraged her to ask St. Therese to join her in spending her heaven doing good on earth.  Isabella took his advice and made this request.  I trust she is doing just that.  So send your prayers.  Seek her intercession. 
My faith is weak and sometimes I am plagued with negativity and doubt.  Not Dave's though.  When he prays, he fully expects results.  He is not shy about asking big.  He never has been and God blesses him abundantly when he does this.  So I have to share...Dave missing so much work when she was sick, and the pandemic, have resulted in us getting creative and pinching pennies more than we've had to in the past.  Empty schedules send him to his knees.  We were in her room the other night and I was showing him the "treasure box of prayers" asking her to intercede.  He decided to ask her to pray for his work schedule.  He specifically requested for his schedule to fill up until he retires.  His days which had very few patients scheduled are filling to the max day by day.  This is, of course, due to the hard work of the office girls who are making phone calls and trying to fill it up, but in our hearts we also know someone has asked Our Lord for this gift for her earthly family.  When he came home for lunch today, he joyfully announced, "Izzie's killing me again today!"  Thank you, dear girl, for praying for us, and thank you, Lord, for taking care of our daily bread.

P.S. We are hoping to set up a weather safe small box at her grave for anyone who wants to visit and leave a prayer request.  Again, her daddy thinks big.  He strongly desires her to be considered for sainthood (what daddy wouldn't?) and if God wills for this to happen there are going to have to be people asking her to intercede.  So we welcome your requests and visits.

P.P.S. The picture is of her as she appeared at her funeral.  First Communion Veil, Confirmation dress.  The rosary she was holding when she passed.