Stillness

I'm finding that sometimes I just need to be still.  I'm a doer, a worker bee ...that's a mom's life in a busy household.  It is also my nature.  To be clear though, I can often be "busy" and accomplishing "nothin'." When I am still, I can see her, talk to her.  I sat in her room today and told her how the day looked.  We chatted about some of her favorite things.  Mostly, I just sat for a bit, being in her place she loved.  It's a bright sunny spot, painted bright pink and on one wall 8" lime green stripes.  She had interesting taste in artwork.  Once she told me exactly what she was looking for ...a black metal cityscape.  I found one unexpectedly one day at Marshalls, and we both laughed about how it was in her head, but we'd never seen one before.  I looked at that today, remembering how she had redone her room after her brother left for school.  How she must have been grasping at redefining space herself.  Her big brother was everything to her.  When he left, her world changed ...and that wasn't easy.  People leaving was never easy for her ...even if just for a bit.  Phoebe didn't like change all that much.  We all adjusted, slowly, to life without Stephen as he became immersed in a different world at the Air Force Academy.  I had the diversion of my other kids ...and still, it tugged.  When he left and came home, it was another change, she had adjusted and now ...she had to redefine her space, again.  She didn't like that.  Well guess what Phoebe, I don't like this one bit ...this redefining space thing.  I want you back here with all your energy, sass and song.  I want to watch you climb the stairs two at a time, slide over to the counter, lean on both arms ..."Moooooommm."  I want to tell you to stop re-parenting my children, let me do my job without interruption.  I want to watch you tell everyone to stop picking at dinner as your jaw chews whatever we're serving.  I want, I want, I want.  What I want and what I need are two very different things ...something we struggle to help our kids understand and discern (not an easy task in the culture of our times).  But what I need, what do I NEED?  I need to turn always to God ...and I struggle to constantly and arrive for moments at a time.  And when I do in those moments find myself in the presence of God, I rest ...I am still ...and only there will I restore.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe, and may perpetual light shine upon her. Amen

Three Weeks

Today dawned with a weighted heart.  Saturday, soccer game day, just like the day Phoebe died three weeks ago.  I wonder if Saturday will ever feel different for me or any of us again.  I watch the clock and remember the details of that day at specific moments.  Will it always be this hard to wrap my head around this terrible nightmare?  Tensions run high here sometimes.  How can they not when everyone is missing her, wanting her? We're honest, at least, keenly aware that our barks at each other are really just a scream "Why?, How?"  We ask each other questions "did I ever...?"  "was I ...?"  "should I have seen ...?"  We shake our heads, no answers, assuring each other that we didn't cause this ...couldn't have prevented this.  But what if?  We're told over and over, this happens, out of nowhere ...a perfect storm they say.  Everything converged in a moment's time ...gave that push that typically isn't there.  But it was, and now this.  This hole in our home.  Not only in our home, but beyond.  Friends struggle, bonded, entwined, they've lost a best friend ...the best friend ever ...the friend who made them laugh, see the adventure of life, made getting an ice cream a journey.  A bike ride became a ride on a Harley, a swim turned into water ballet with the Loch Ness monster, hanging out became a giggle fest filled with song.  Am I exaggerating ...no, this was Phoebe.  So how, someone please tell me how, this girl with an incredible zest for life, did she arrive at place where life was not worth living?  Phoebe could push every button I have all at the same time ...and do it again, right away.  She pushed hard because she lived hard.  In poker they call it "all in."  Phoebe was "all in", all the time.  I just do not, in any worldly way understand any of this.  I'm still waiting to wake up!
But in a spiritual way ...I can grasp some of it.  Not all certainly, but I can trust and understand.  Still I cannot see signs that indicated what would happen, but I see other signs.  I have my usual saints I talk to, pray to, implore.  Other saints began making themselves known to me.  Reading something that prompted a thought, a tilling of my heart, readying for a new planting, of what I had no idea.  One that specifically stands out is St. Padre Pio.  He has been following me for almost a year now.  I have a good friend I've shared this with along the way.  I'm not particularly drawn to Padre Pio, in fact, he sort of scares me.  ...He holds nothing back, tells us to give it ALL to God.  I prefer a saint more maternal, more akin to my preferences.  I would be thinking of something, wrestling with my own conscience and would suddenly notice a picture, a statue of Padre Pio.  It happened over and over.  Once, I was going to confession and had something I really didn't want to discuss, but knew I had to.  I was afraid a certain priest would know my voice (which doesn't matter, but I am human!), so I wanted my turn to happen with another priest.  I looked up there was Padre Pio, I avoided his gaze by turning and there he was again.  I remember being a bit annoyed.  "How did he manage such a prominent position in this church?" I wondered.  Later, when I headed to work, I noticed him on a shelf in the building,  Just a little picture of him smiling.  I first noticed it as I was grumbling to myself about my ungrateful children and how they didn't appreciate me ...there he was, calling my bluff, adjusting my perspective.  I always greeted him from then on.  But two days before Phoebe died, I passed him ...there were four images of him instead of just one.  I called my friend, giggled.  "Oh, I think Padre Pio knows something big will happen ...better watch out."  Little did I know.  I'm still not sure what his role is in my life ...  He's known for extracting the last drop of hesitation from people who claim they have given all to God.  What more could there be for me to give?  I wonder?  People will say, Carolyn, nothing more could be asked of you, nothing more could be given.  Really?  I think I can give more ...and keep giving.  I freely give to God my Phoebe.  I don't want to, it hurts way too much, but I will and I do, over and over.  Every day we can give everything to Him.  Today I'll give Him my trust.  And I'll trust that He will be generous in guiding me.  Over a week ago, a friend dropped a few things off for us ...she also left me a prayer book mark.  I looked at it several times, but didn't read it ...until today.  I think it was meant to wait for today.  It's from St. Teresa of Avila (the one who said,  "God, if this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!)  But it is a beautiful and soothing thought ...I hope you find that to be true as well:

Let nothing disturb you
Let nothing frighten you,
All things pass away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
He who has God
finds he lacks nothing
God alone suffices.

Thank you dear friend for giving this to me, and thank you St. Teresa of Avila.  I will trust Him who has given me everything.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe, and may perpetual light shine upon her.

Logistics

Quite a few people have mentioned they've tried to comment on this blog but couldn't.  So, here's my advice ...I am seriously lacking in computer savvy, so be patient with me.  You need to get a gmail account.  It's easy and free!  I did it, which speaks to the ease and accessibility. Once you have that account, you can sign in and leave a comment ...which I would love to hear.  If anyone has better information, please share, so readers can have the access and dialogue they want.
Starting this blog has been a nice thing for me and I am glad people are enjoying it.  Part of why I wanted to write in this way is because I know how many hearts are broken over Phoebe's death.  I know that much of it is out of empathy for me, her mother, and the rest of our family ...and I am so grateful for the tender care and concern.  But the reality is, your  hearts are broken too.  Phoebe was a part of many people's lives.  Memories made include her in multiple families ...over seventeen years, whether at the beach, at parties, labor day movie night, late night bike rides downtown, babysitting, sneaking diet coke in the car, surfing, complaining about a friends beautiful renovation of a dilapitated cottage (Phoebe always thought it should have been left alone, even though the kitchen and back bedroom were sloping into the ground), having her sister and friends swim across a shipping channel (not quite, but close).   You get my point ...she helped all of us live large.  Friends were made and loved well.  Her friends' hearts ache as they struggle to make sense of her absence.  The sisterhood among them brought a constant joy to me.
I'm a social person, I love my friends ...generally, I like people!  We are taking good care of each other, loving each other well.  I want to comfort you all too, at least as much as I can.  We will move on, and we will live well.  Life is still good.  So let me hear what you have to say.
I am so glad to be surrounded by such wonderful people to share the missing, remember the loving, and cherish her "smile like the sun and her eyes that danced."
Goodnight sweet Phoebe!

Grace

Slowly, I've been able to read again.  I don't know why it's been difficult for me, but it has.  I can read my prayer book.  Now I can read a story from a dad who lost his son, one of seven, over twenty years ago.  I read a little each night before bed.  His family's story is different than mine, but there are some things, many actually, that he mentions that resonate with my own experience.  Space is a big, big issue.  I never considered it before.  Space issues aren't my "thing"  ...ask my husband.  It's probably been one of his greatest challenges in marriage to me.  But now, I notice space ...empty space, where Phoebe is supposed to be.
I started writing about reading, so let me get back there.  One of the first thing we were given came from the support group for parent's who've lost a child.  Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief is a little book that offers a little gem each day.  I try to read that, and many times, it hits home with something weighing heavy.  Today's was touching and helped me tweak my perspective a bit.
"Shall we live in mystery and yet conduct ourselves as though everything were known."  (someone named Christopher Fry wrote this.)  In brief, it asks why we don't accept some simple little things that happen in life are little ways that God, or our loved ones are letting us know they are looking out for us.  "There is always reason for doubt. There is also room for faith and hope.  That is the nature of mystery."  So I've started paying closer attention to little things, while trying to not make more of something than it simply is.  Others have shared some things with me they were sure came from Phoebe, and truthfully, they do sound like her.  My sister-in-law told me that she was under a tree after the burial and acorns started plopping on her head, plop, plop, plop ...then a cascade.  She couldn't figure out where it was coming from, and then realized it was a Phoebe maneuver.  Yes, indeed, that is something Phoebe would have done.  She would have plopped them one by one,  then quickly grown bored and dumped the whole handful. 
For me, I've worried so much about her, the state of her soul ...things a Catholic mom puts at the top of her list for all her children.  Hundreds of thousands of Masses are being, have been, offered for her ...and still I worry.  I probably will until the day I die, but I try to be confident.  I've already scheduled two Masses for her at our local parish, last Saturday, and today.  Both times the priest did not offer those Masses for Phoebe.  It was really and understandable oversight that I understand.  Today, when it was clear she wasn't being verbally mentioned, I had a prompting that perhaps she didn't need this Mass and she was giving it to someone else.  At her funeral, Fr. Higgins, talked about God's time being radically ...completely different than our concept of time.  So the possibility, the hope, that God knew all these Masses were needed and were being offered, has allowed her to take her place in Heaven.  We can get into some heavy duty theology here ...and I am not gifted in explaining it well.  But I believe every ounce of it and hold it very dear. So I really thought about that all day.  I asked for a sign, something, anything that would assure me that Phoebe's soul was in a good place.
Later in the day, I was talking to a very special friend and telling her the best way for me to deal with this great loss was to say thank you, over and over, to God for allowing this.  In His infinite wisdom, knowing and being all eternity, though he did not will this for Phoebe or us, he allowed it ...  There is a reason here we do not know or understand and will not until our own end.  I fully and totally accept this and thank Him continually.  And it has brought me peace.  This friend knows me well, she has seen the barest parts of my heart, has walked with me through trials and challenges, has loved my children and shared my joys.  Her response was one of disbelief that I could be in this place so soon.  It wasn't because of me ...it was a gift, a grace of enormous proportions.  But as I responded, it came to me just why.  Phoebe lived with intensity, a fullness not shared by most.  She is truly an extraordinary soul, not without her faults and in no way perfect.  However, she had a force about her that is unmatched.  Her dad has said she could kick a soccer ball through a concrete wall.  Phoebe could be sheer power, and at times, it could be scary.  That personality doesn't change, those traits remain with the soul, but once with God are only used in the most pleasing way for Him.  Of course Phoebe, with sheer power and force, begs for her mother's peace.  Phoebe has prayed and requested that my vision not be clouded, that my gaze remain fixed.  I know this for two reasons, two experiences Phoebe and I share. 
First, though I would grow weary when Phoebe challenged me about my faith, our faith, I never rejected or reduced God or our beliefs in any way.  I told her that I would never deny God what was rightly His,  even for her.  God would always come first.  I think that both annoyed and comforted her.  But she saw that I would not, will not waver on the Truth.  I won't beat people up over it, but I will not accommodate anything that undermines or dismisses my faith. Period!  I'm not saying I get it all right all the time, but I certainly aim for that and in my humanity, I falter.  So Phoebe knows I strive for the Truth in all things.
The second reason I know this is a bit more "of this world."  When Phoebe was seven or eight, she insisted on going on a ride at a carnival that I thought she wouldn't like. (by the way, I do not like carnivals).  She insisted, and she was an adventurous kid, so I relented.  I watched as the ride picked up speed and took on a life of its own.  I watched only her face, huddled next to her big brother who had his arm wrapped tightly around her.  The look she had was sheer terror.  With three little ones in tow, I climbed the stairs to the "ride guy."  I screamed "Stop the ride".  He laughed, "Lady, I can't stop the ride ...two more minutes"  "Stop the ride" I screamed again.  "My daughter is on that and she is terrified, let her OFF!"  Over and over.  He moved the gears, the ride slowed, then stopped.  He opened the door for her and out she flew into my arms.  He moved the gears again and the ride resumed, while Phoebe calm and safe stood by my side with her little sisters.  Now, in fairness, I probably was nursing and had leaking breasts through my shirt.  He probably thought I was a lunatic and he would be killed by the "breast milk lunatic"  if he didn't do exactly what I hysterically commanded.  (I got out of a speeding ticket once due to this!)  Phoebe saw me rescue her when she needed it.  I imagine she is returning the love her mother showed her in that particular instant.  In fact, maybe she is saying "God, I gotta be real clear here, I've seen her before ...You could have a real bad situation on your hands ...just be glad she's not nursing anyone and shower her with a whole lot of grace ...please!"  Are these little, or big signs, from Heaven?
Now another interesting thing happened. People have been overwhelmingly generous with preparing meals for our family.  And it has been wonderful because it covers a very tender, vulnerable time in our day ...the time everyone came home ...the time Phoebe would arrive home from school and soccer.  Hearts sag around this time and there is lots of hugging and holding for me to do at I time I would normally make dinner.  We had so much from last night left over ...another full casserole (we are being very well loved and cared for!), while another dinner was being delivered.  I thought I would share the wealth with a dear friend who has a busy afternoon schedule, about 4000 children (she's a crazy Catholic, go figure?) and has fed me so many times during my excursion to nursing school last year.  I called her house, spoke with her daughter and told her I would try her cell phone (that she has had for about ten years, but has only started using in the past two months and now can't stop texting!).  I called her cell phone once.  Her daughter called her cell phone once.  We never made contact.  All of a sudden she is at my door, winded.  I wave to her as I am on the phone to come in.  She steps in and puts a finger up ...she is composing herself.  "Come up, I have something for you!"  "Carolyn, is everything okay, Mary called me and said you called and then I saw you had called my cell phone a few times and I thought you MUST need me right away.  I tried calling your house and it wouldn't go through.  I was heading into the grocery store to get something for dinner, I had so little time before picking up the boys, but when I saw you had called so many times I got really worried."  I asked her "Did you go shopping?"  "No, I left right away to come here, I thought you must have needed me."  I pulled the casserole from the fridge and put it on the counter in front of her.  Her head dropped and then she looked up at the ceiling, smiled and sighed.  "Phoebe knew we had dinner here for you."   My friend may have been able to BUY the ingredients for supper,  but she didn't really have the time to MAKE dinner.  And here, this little sign, this little taking care of another mother, who had mothered her so many times, opened her home and heart to Phoebe so many times, in a very funny way was being given something she really needed on this very night.  And the way it happened would have made Phoebe smile and chuckle.  I know where she would stand and how she would move ...how she would fill that space.  She really is still filling it, just in a totally different way. 
These are little graces, big graces really, that assure us that those in Heaven are among us.  I'll rest on that tonight ...and say thank you!

Peaks and Valleys

Its funny how you can start the day feeling strong and mosey along ..."hey this ain't so bad."  Where does that go?  How does it disappear?  I rest in my faith and it gives me tremendous assurance, confidence, peace.  It helps me wait.  I've waited before ...for the birth of seven babies.  Those can be really long waits when you're anxious to meet the newest member of your family.  I don't like this wait ...for eternity, to see Phoebe again.  Her schedules, appointments are still on my calendar.  Her shoes are still by my door, her blue, well worn converse.  She would leave her shoes on the front steps.  I won't let anyone move them ...just a bit longer please ...maybe she'll come home.  Her soccer bag would be dropped on the landing.  I miss that thud. The familiar space she occupied is empty, crying out for her to fill it.  We dance around each other ...and then one of us gasps ...the obvious emptiness too much to bear at this moment.  We tumble and toss, blindly trying to move forward.  How do we move?  What direction?  What pace?  Why?
Unsettled, unknowing, frightened.  Only one place to be, only one place to go ...the foot of the Cross, because to be there means that soon enough, we'll be at the Resurrection. Slowly, the peace settles in again, we find each other,  hold hands ...hopeful that one day the pain might not be so searing, the questions not so urgent.  Hopeful that one day her gaze will meet ours, that gaze that will tell us everything is alright.

Twists and Turns

Phoebe lived for adventure.  Her dad says she lived 90 miles and hour ...all the time.  She did.  Looking back on her brief life, she had a great many opportunities and adventures many will never even consider possible.  We've always lived in a sort of "vacationland."  By the sea, there are waves to surf, harbors to kayak, sandcastles to build.  Places to ride a bike,  plenty of trails to explore, cliffs to jump off.  Close enough that the only thing we have to consider is the tide.  Close enough that we could spend 5 minutes or ten hours at the beach, hidden in the woods ...adventuring, exploring, living life to the max.  Skateboarding, or more properly, longboarding was done right outside our door on a safe street with a nice steady slope that gathered speed and offered a decent ride.  Phoebe was always barefoot on those boards, and I would cringe thinking of the scrape she might endure.  The first snowy day, my girls have a tradition of running outside barefoot ...no doubt started by Phoebe.  She loved the wind, the rain, the heat, the cold, the wet and the dry ...all those sensations confirmed she was alive ...vibrant, part of this earth. 
She kicked a soccer ball with all the might she had.  I used to love to watch her play ...she was all power, all force.  She was alive, grabbing every bit of energy around her to prove it.  Phoebe was a force to be reckoned with. She still is.  Her adventure lives on.
I imagine that the intensity, which she lived here among us, will only be multiplied.  Whether she has already made her way to eternal life resting before God, or is being perfected in Purgatory,  she can pray for us, intercede on our behalf.  Expect that!  She can't answer our prayers, but she can certainly pray hard for us if what we are requesting is pleasing to God.  In that way, I think many of us will experience a great adventure.  I don't want to be timid ...I'll ask for everything ...protection, purity, virtue, faith for my other kids, her brothers and sisters.  And you can too because so many of you reading here love her and know her.  And she loves you right back ...even more now.  So ask, ask for her prayers.  Keep offering them for her ...she may really need them to reach her ultimate destiny, and if she doesn't, well, if she has a say ...she'll use them for us ...fair and square!  Phoebe was very fairness minded.  Just be prepared, you may be sent on quite an adventure.

Captured Moments

There are so many things to write about ...and I will, over time.  There are so many great efforts or heroic moments that challenge me these days.  The smallest things perplex me, make me stop in confusion.  The other day I was making sandwiches for school lunches and put mayonnaise on a roll meant for my daughter who is completely and thoroughly opposed to this condiment.  I had a bag, a big bag, of rolls and yet I had no idea how to solve this "problem."  What would I do, how could I mend this error?  Should I force mayonnaise on her, maybe sneak it past her?  Could I scrape enough of it off the roll so she would not taste even a trace?  I pondered and worried about this ...this complicated roll dilemma.  Until, finally, it occurred to me I had other sandwiches to make, requesting mayo, and rolls aplenty.  I continued on, no longer in turmoil about the accidental mayonnaise.
This is the kind of fog and confusion that settles in around me these days.  The chaos of emotion continues, but the blur and fog disorient me.  Finding my way through the most basic tasks can confound me.  Is this grief?  Part of it anyway.
One thing that pulls me back are the beautiful photographs we are blessed with.  On Sept. 20, Phoebe and I walked down to World's End for her senior photo shoot.  Back in August I had briefly met Kat Hanafin at an event.  Her card literally fell on my floor one day and I was prompted to call her.  She told me senior portraits wasn't her particular forte, but I knew she tried to capture personality and character of whatever she photographed.  Knowing Phoebe, I knew a standard senior portrait would not capture the essence of who she is ...so, we spent a late afternoon laughing, getting to know each other.
There was an excitable tension that afternoon.  Kat really did get to know Phoebe and us.  She shared her own story of being a senior with the expansive future ahead ...choices she made, thoughts she had very much mirrored Phoebe' own.  It was a magical time.  Just Phoebe and me, my oldest daughter,  my go to girl, my soon to be forging her own life girl, side by side, really just enjoying each others company.
We knew we would have to wait a while for the proofs, so Phoebe never saw them.  I wish she had ...maybe seeing her reflection would have pulled her back from any dark spiral she entered.  So many maybes and what ifs.  I sent Kat an email the day Phoebe died.  Her response was immediate and she has provided us with so many beautiful pictures of our girl that I think thousands of people have enjoyed.  I get to look at Phoebe ...and she is looking back.  She is beaming, she is timeless, she is alive through these photographs.  I haven't spoken yet to Kat ...I can't.  She looked into our daughters soul and captured the depth of who she is.  I don't believe she saw any looming clouds of darkness ...like the rest of us.  What she saw and captured was the raw beauty of Phoebe.  Phoebe has always been particularly unique, wise beyond her years in so many ways and radically naive and innocent in others.
I will talk to Kat, soon I hope.  I am so grateful for what she has given us, what she captured.  For me, I gaze at Phoebe throughout the day, tell her I love her ..."I miss you Phoebe, why, oh why, did you leave us.  Do you see our ache, our struggle to hold on?"  Mostly, I linger in the morning and greet her, tell she has to help me out, help me be the mother I need to be right now to her sisters and brothers.  And at night, a goodnight kiss.
Thank you Kat for the tremendous gift you've given us.

Putting on the Brakes

Yesterday was a busy day.  I usually like Sundays to be quiet ...just focused on God.  No shopping, no organized sports ...just peace and gratitude.  I'm grateful for the business now, it keeps us going, helps us measure life in small increments of time.  Anyway, we had multiple places to be, people to see ...and some of it didn't work, didn't seem right for all of us.  So, we took two cars to Mass.  After, we gathered there with friends for a short time and then headed home to change for our football party.  My husband headed to another gathering he'd planned on going to for some time.  He didn't reach the football party until the sun began to set ...a couple hours later than expected.  I missed him, really missed him.  The sight of him settles me.  It is a blessing, I know.  So, I grew restless waiting for him to arrive.  When he did, he had changed his clothes.  I felt a little sad that he hadn't rushed to be with me and the kids, that he had taken the time to go home ...alone ...and change out of his suit.  But then he told me the story, which made me cry.
On his way to Mass, the car in front, stopped short.  Slamming the breaks he felt something give ...the breaks.  He was close enough that he coasted his way to Mass, arriving ahead of us.  We discussed the logistics of the rest of the day and parted ways.  After we left, he stuck his head under the hood of the car and up walked a long-time friend, a priest not affiliated with the parish.  There was talk of seeing him ...and there he was.  Father, followed Stephen to lunch, and then to our trusted mechanic.  How they made it I don't know, but they did?  Then, he drove Stephen home.  As they pulled in the driveway, Father offered to bless the house  (I've been wanting this!).  My heart soared as he told me this.  Of course I asked if it was a good job ...Stephen chuckled.  Every room was blessed, sprinkled with holy water.  Then he blessed our yard.  Thoroughly, fully, completely entrusted to God ...my home is restored.  My breath is easier now, my shoulders less tense.
I told Stephen that I think its the nicest thing Phoebe has done for us!  Thank you Phoebe, but most especially ...thank you, dear God, for that incredible blessing.

Heaven Stormed

In the midst of our nightmare, some very beautiful things are happening that have offered tremendous consolation.  We're overwhelmed (wonderfully!) by all the Mass cards and spiritual offerings for Phoebe that continue to arrive.
I haven't tallied them all yet, but it is easily over 100,000 Masses being said on behalf of her soul.  I am eternally grateful and confident that my precious girl's soul is exactly where it should be.  The outpouring of love has been far beyond measure.  As if all these offerings weren't enough, I continue to learn of Masses and prayers being said throughout this great nation.  On Friday, a good friend who happens to be an alum of Univ. of Notre Dame shared that she would call out there and have Masses offered for Phoebe.  Just hours later, I saw another friend whose husband is also an alum.  He had called out there ...but it had already been done.  By whom?  I have no idea.  Yesterday I bumped into other friends at the soccer field whose daughter is a student at UVA.  Her mom called to tell her of Phoebe's passing and asked her to pray ...  The daughter invited another friend to join her in a Rosary and was surprised to hear that this young man had already been praying for our daughter.  How would he have known?  We don't know him, and yet here was this stranger praying.  It seems everyone knows.  Today we went to friends to watch the Patriots game (ok, those who really know me are giggling ...um, I think they won).  I spoke to a remarkable young man who had not been able to attend the wake or funeral (though his wife and children did ...offering such love to us all).  He said he called his dad, a fairly public figure in academia, to let him know of Phoebe.  The response he got was that a Mass was already being offered at the Basillica in D.C.  Without any hesitation people have picked up their Rosary beads, called their pastors, reached out to others ...and have literally kept this hurting family afloat in prayer!
There are more stories here ...unbelievable really.  As parents our hearts ache when we hear of a child dying.  I don't think we can ever prepare for the depth of misery it incurs.  So the outreach in many ways is due to that empathy ...but more, it certainly shows the real faith, the Catholic faith, flowing and pulsating through this land.  Parents, children, friends, friends of friends, strangers ...how can we ever thank you?  Please, keep praying.
Phoebe was an extraordinary girl and she touched so very many lives in marvelous ways.  It is simply impossible to understand why and how she lost her way in moments.  But heaven has been stormed ...and heaven has answered.
Sweet soul of my girl, my darling girl, shine on ...reach perfection ...and light the path for the rest of us.

Feeling Small

This morning we'll head to Mary Immaculate of Lourdes for the traditional Mass.  A respite.  I find so much peace and hope there.  Other people are far more articulate expressing why the traditional Mass is so central to them.  I have trouble grasping words, but simply, I feel very small, very child like at that Mass.  God is so enormous and I can rest in Him.  I can simply "be".  I don't even have to worry about participating, making a loud response to show how invested I am with the community around me.  I can be quiet and prayerful (as much as my four year old allows).  The prayers anchor me.  The reverence soothes me.  I will find some peace and assurance.

Sisterhood

For several years now I have been blessed with an incredible gift of friendship.  Two of them have been by my side since I was 15.  Others have joined along the way, many of them enriching my faith life and helping me head home ...to God, as I journey through this life.  I would say that what I have in friendship is truly extraordinary.
I mention this because as I implore the Blessed Mother to reveal herself to me, she has gently tilted my head to see her.  Not in person, of course, but through my friends.  It's as if they all got together and orchestrated this great play where the timing is seamless and the words are perfected.  But its not, its just the authenticity of real friendship.  Last night I was granted an opportunity to pray before the tabernacle, alone, while my children were occupied in beautiful ways.  Before Him, I offered the prayers for a happy death from the 1962 missal.  It filled me with a peace and assurance that settled some of my fears and doubts.  At least I could know that in God's timelessness, He heard me and received my precious girl, wrapping her in love.  Of course, no answers were given, no great understanding of how this tremendous cross was deemed appropriate for this fragile mother.  But some consolation rested on me.  It was all made possible through friends.
One thing I try to do when I talk to people, particularly those dear to me, is to look them in the eyes.  I don't always succeed.  I notice it too when others do that with me ...and my friends do.  After I prayed, I was waiting in my car for the return of my children and another long-time friend I don't get to spend much time with pulled up.  We're both raising large families, live in different towns.  But we share a common mission ...to get our children to heaven.  And she loved Phoebe.  She joined me in my car and we shared about five minutes together.  I can't remember the words we shared, but I do remember her gaze ...most especially her heart ...that held my pain for me for just a bit.  It's been like that. And that's what I mean, I guess, when it seems they have together orchestrated their time with and for me.  Every so often, at just the right time, someone steps in and carries my pain for me ...for just a bit.  The relief is tremendous ...just enough to keep on.
A friend calls and just lets me talk, she listens so well.  She's known me a long, long time and never judges.  I think in some ways we see the world differently, but we've loved each other completely for decades ...and she is here, and I am so glad.
Another sends a text just about every night as I head to bed.  Her eyes red from so many tears and such agony that dreadful day, she met me at the hospital as I said goodbye to my girl.  She came shortly after another dear one who stood with me as I gazed upon my daughter, and listened as I sang a sweet song of "Gentle Woman" to Phoebe.  Phoebe and I share a really funny story about that song ...a beautiful song.  One day we met a man at a Grotto and he approached us to tell us he thought the melody to that song was all wrong. He sang the words to his own melody (which was horribly chaotic!).  Politely we moved away and burst into laughter and agreed that a finer melody couldn't be found for this beautiful song.  So as I sang to her in its appropriate melody, it was bittersweet, and I wonder if Phoebe was sending me a simple memory to ease my own suffering. But this friend stood by and watched me say goodbye.
Friends whose hearts are broken nearly as much as mine ...who loved my daughter like their own, welcomed her into their hearts and homes, kindled the friendship with their own children.  Years of love layered upon love.  To see their hearts broken too saddens me so much.
There are others who deserve notice.  Over time I hope to tell everyone how grateful I am for all they have done ...for the weight they have carried for me.
I know too that my husband and kids observe this remarkable group of women ministering to all of us.
"I don't know what we would have done without your friendships."  My husband has said many times.
Nor do I dear man, nor do I.
I have been kept afloat, my gaze on eternity kept affixed, the promise of hope nourished by the Church Militant here on earth, my beloved friends.
How could I ever be grateful enough?  To be the sister God calls all of us to be is the only answer I know.

Saturday

It is a glorious Saturday, much like the one two weeks ago when Phoebe died.  How can exquisite beauty and extraordinary pain coexist?  In our salvation story!  There is always the promise of hope.
Each day brings something new in any number of ways.  We get to "begin again!" in each moment, each day.  I'll begin today with the smiles of my children (thank you God!) and Mass for Phoebe.  The day will unfold from there and I'll see how I get to spend my day with Phoebe.
One thing that sears through me now is that my mothering of her has not ended ...it has only changed.  I can talk to her and love her, most especially I can pray for her.  All day, my sweet girl, all day!  And she can join me in prayer for her siblings ...  How can joy not be found there?

The Order of Things

Dawn broke through again ...another day granted.  Another day to be lived as fully as we can.  We are all trying, and as I read more about surviving suicide, I learn, it is in that struggle of trying that we will survive.  So the fight is on!  For those who know me personally, you know I am a fighter, a survivor.  But I DO NOT want to fight this fight.  But, I will ...so encourage me, pray without ceasing for me.  I must be that example to my kids.  We MUST go on.  So how?  Order.  All things must be ordered to God.  Their is a big picture here ...there is eternity.  Our lives here are but a blink when held up to eternity.

One thing my husband has said to the kids when something has bothered them, someone is mean, or something is particularly hard, (with an Irish brogue)  "oh, its just a faht in the wind."  It always evokes giggles, but more ...it puts things in perspective.  Certainly, our loss pales all those silly, mundane bits of day to day that so often bog us down.  But if we can be simple, we can know that this truly is but a blink.  And we will share in Phoebe's presence again.

Yesterday was a horrible day as the sun fell in the sky.  Open nerve endings, despair descended ...and my mantra ...the Memorare began full storm, followed by pleas to St. Michael.   Worry plagued me, for my kids, my daughter, so scarred by what she witnessed.  Pleading Him to spare her, erase the memory, fill her mind with the laughing sister that would tease and encourage her.  Let Phoebe live on strong and sure in her mind and heart.  Please don't let a moment's choice lead the images in her mind.  Can God at least do that for me?  I believe He can.  Pray to St. Thomas Aquinas to remove those images, replace them with memories that will heal her heart and soul. 

The prayers help.  So many are being offered.  Without them, without the thousands upon thousands of Masses and prayers being offered ...we would not be holding on.  But we are ...finger by finger.  The confidence of all the prayers said and offered for Phoebe assure me that she is where she belongs ...with God, her Creator.  He restores order.  He restored Phoebe to the right order of things.  That order looks different now than it did two weeks ago.  But not all that much, really. Which seems odd. 

As I revisit the days, weeks, months, though I find no signs or indications that Phoebe was on a path to this one, horribly impulsive choice, I do see where He was preparing us.  I don't find much comfort in that, but I see.  What I see mostly is how there are so many lies about life out there for all of us, but especially our kids.  Everything is okay ...behavior, drugs, sex, profanity, immodesty. "Oh, kids will be kids.  Everyone does it!"  Baloney,  not everyone does it, not everyone, not every child reduces themselves (without knowing) to the most base behavior.  And guess who's telling them everyone does it ..not a big deal?  The grownups ...parents ...the people in charge.  We'll have so much to answer for.
For so many of us, many of my friends we talk about this ...the struggle to raise our children, free from the burdens and pull of the culture.  We strive to raise them as God wants us to ...as He has prescribed, and yet every step of the way ...we are mocked and undermined.  Phoebe spoke of this; it caused great confusion for her.  Our own priests mock, dismiss what we offer and expect from our kids.  They laugh at us as we carry on with our ENORMOUS (more than three) amounts of children in tow.  They pray for an end to global warming and giggle through the consecration.  That is DISorder, not order.  These are specific things Phoebe spoke of that threw her off track.  She could not reconcile these things.  We live in a place and time that has lost its way ...and Phoebe lost her way ...for a moment.  How can so many of these priests have so much more wisdom than Christ himself?  Why do I know more about our faith and treasures of the Church than them?  And by the way,  we had to fight to learn it.  We'd ask questions "Oh, that's the old Church."  No it's not.  There is no "old" Church.  There is His Church ...only.  "We" are not Church.  The Church is Christs living gift to us, a treasure chest that will keep us close.  If someone gives you a gift, do you say "I am gift?" No!  You say thank you and you treat the giver and the gift properly.  If the gift is a hat, do you use it as a sock?  No!  The Church is our gift from Christ.  How can we know our place before God if He is constantly reduced to a sensitive new age guy who plays the tambourine?  To be fair, there are many, many reverent priests who we have been blessed to know.  But they are so radically different from most that they seem to have been blessed with a completely different vocation.  Thank God they have been put in my family's path so we can hold on.

God cannot be checked in with occasionally. Well, actually, one could do that, many do ...call upon Him only in need, maybe on Sunday.  It hasn't been like that in this home for a very long time.  Christ has been our center, and we have imperfectly placed Him, chosen Him as our core.  I choose over and over to keep Him there.  He will protect and restore us.  He will protect and restore my precious children. And I beg, spare them the lies, the deceit....He has held my daughters hand and led her home.  Please God, may you ultimately bring all my children home to You ....but I beg, do not allow this way again ....EVER!!!  And please, please, may it be after my own passing.

In His service ...always.

Nonsense

How do you live day to day in nonsense?  I'm told that when something like this happens, tapes get played over and over in our heads.  Some slight change that day might have altered the course of history.  But, that is lost.  "Don't do that to yourself!"  they tell me.  Don't do what?  ...ask for a second chance; wonder if I had just done one slight thing differently ...forced her to eat breakfast, told her I was excited for our trip to visit her ideal college the next day.  "Get ready, pack your bags ...we're gonna leave early Pheeb!"  Could those words have made a difference.  Could I have rushed to her as she walked up our driveway, hugged her and told her she was beautiful.  What if I reminded her that nothing would cost her our love?  What if ...what if...what if?
I know life happened as designed and allowed by God ...I even accept it.  But I don't want it.  I want it to be different.  I want us to be whole.  I want nine of us sleeping under our roof.
This makes no sense to me.  I cannot connect the dots.  A + B = C.  Not in this case where A + B = Z.


I keep saying the Memorare:

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession, was left forsaken.  Inspired with this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother, to thee I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful.  O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy clemency hear and answer me.  Amen

It helps.  Yet, I feel like the child with their mother who says "I'll be right there ...just a moment." And the mother gets distracted and forgets to come.  Maybe she has and if she hadn't I wouldn't even be able to speak or stand ...take care of my other kids.  But what I want is the warmth and assurance of her arms, her mantle around me.  I want to KNOW she is here with me.  I want to FEEL her presence.  I want to FEEL Phoebe's presence.  Perhaps that too much to ask ...but hasn't He asked for enough?
I know the answer to that.  He asks for everything ...and I give it to Him, not because I want to, but because it is the only right thing to do.  And in the fleeting moments when I know through and through that He holds all of what He has given me in His possession, I find peace.  I feel all of it wrapped in eternity, and I feel all of us together.  It lasts only seconds ... from time to time.  But for now, it must be enough.

Wishing

I remember when I was little trying to recreate, re-live the anticipation and excitement of Christmas morning.  One of my brothers and one sister would set things up as we had found them in our race to see what had been left for us under the tree.  We'd go back upstairs and race back down ...but, it was never the same.  You just can't go back. 
I want to go back now.  I want to check on Phoebe at 6:45AM, tell her coffee is on while I tug her feet.  "Hey Pheeb, you awake."  She would be cocooned in her down comforter, head to toe, and she would begin to move, arching her back, just as babies do.  That was all.  I never had to rewake her.  Just now is the time she would come into the kitchen, mill about.  I can't recreate that, I can't go back in time and enjoy those moments of sending her off for her day.  That hurts.  It was really a very simple ritual, but one I really treasured ...even before now.  There was something so peaceful about that each day for me.

So now, I'm convinced that the best way to embrace and live that again is to keenly and deliberately give thanks for the chance to have my morning ritual with my six other children and my husband.  The little nuances of each one, their particularities of morning life is something for me to behold.  Some ease into their day quietly, while others have numerous bumps along the way with missing shoes, not the right deli meat.  Each is sent off with their morning offering and guardian angel prayer, armored I hope.  That too was a ritual with Phoebe.  The past couple of years she wouldn't join me, growing angry, so I would say it quietly for her ...but then, I could, again, say it out loud.  Anger had softened.  Her words would not join mine, but at the end she would say "Amen."  I believe.  Yes Phoebe, I believe too.

Another Day

Another day is passing.  It is the dinner hour.  Phoebe had a game today, one I had planned to go to.  She promised me she would slide tackle someone.  I almost went anyway, but something held me back.  It's only day ten, so what do I really expect.  Most of the day I'm okay ...so much to do, lots of distractions. Around 4 though, the day gets thick and gloomy.  I feel like I am trying to swim through molasses.  I just have to believe that it won't always be this way.  I say the Memorare over and over, begging the Blessed Mother to come to me in my hour of need.  I beg her to swaddle me.  Around 9 it starts to lift and an incredible exhaustion overtakes me.  Thank God for sleep.

  I believe in the Gospel message.  I believe in the Resurrection.  I believe. I believe. I believe.  But I don't feel.  I don't feel the promise, and I want to so badly.  Maybe I never will.  But I choose over and over to believe that His promise is true ...is all Truth.  I have to, for my kids, my husband.  They deserve a life lived with richness and vitality and gratitude.  Pray for me to persevere, to hold on and to give thanks even if I don't know what I am thanking Him for.  I know Phoebe is okay ...more than that.  But those of us left ache. 
Friends come by, offer words, food, hugs ...anything.  It helps, it really does.  I am so thankful for the care, the tenderness ...the distraction.  I am so grateful to hear my kids laugh ...full and hearty.  Tonight, one of my daughters was singing in a funny voice, thinking her dad was walking in, but it was an adult  friend.  She was so embarrassed and laughed from the depths of her belly.  I stood by the laundry listening, feeling so blessed that laughter still has a place here ...a glimmer that we will go on.  We will be different, but it can still be good.  I don't know how, but it can still be good.  Someday ...soon, I hope and trust.

Heading Home

   Another day behind me.  I wish I could jettison to a year, awaken and say, ah yes, we have made it through.  But God gave me this cross to carry and I join my heart to His on the road to Calvary.

  Part of the title may seem a bit cryptic.  Some of you know me well enough to know just what I mean.
But, let me be really clear.  Home is heaven, the place where ultimately I will be with Phoebe once again.
When I get there, it will be pure love.  I will be home, with my spectacular daughter, but most especially with my Creator ...with Christ.  He is the whole reason for everything.  I believe that totally, and though, in this awfulness, I don't understand His wisdom, I trust His wisdom.  That's not always easy, and there will be plenty of hard days ahead, but it is what I know and choose.
  I miss Phoebe.  Two nights ago we had dinner for the first time since she died.  We sat around the table as a family, less one.  I stared at the seat she guarded with gusto and determination.  No one, I mean NO ONE could dare take that seat across from me, at the right hand of Dad.  But now, others can sit there.  I didn't make it through dinner.  I felt woozy ...it wasn't right.  We gathered again last night ...and I made it through.  Tonight, who knows?
  Last night we went to a support group for parents who've lost a child.  It was good!  I wanted to hear that in a short while the pain goes away.  What I heard was that it doesn't go away, it just gets softer.  People are changed, not worse, just different.  I don't know what to expect.  I just have to "be" for now.  I just have to love those around me for now.  But there are some certainties too.  God loves me, my husband loves me and I love him, I have great kids that deserve a full rich life, lived in the faith, and I have the most wonderful generous friends one could ever ask for.  Lots of people who have similar experiences can't say the same.
   And so today, the gift of another day, the gift of an abundant life.  So many reasons to be grateful.  I'll forge ahead.  

Begin Again

Phoebe died on Saturday, October 9, 2010.  She has been waked and buried and her body rests under a beautiful oak tree where she can swing and play.  But for us, we must go forward, we must live our lives.  Today, we began.  Back to school, regular routines, washing, cleaning, sorting, folding ...the little things of our day.

We have lots of questions, always will.  But this I know, Phoebe was well loved ...and she loved back and sadly, for a few brief moments she lost her way.  Phoebe ended her own life and it is that terrible choice that will haunt me.  I know Phoebe, she would not do something like that to herself or those around her.  For a few moments, Phoebe forgot about God.  But in the end His victory saved her.  Of that I have no doubt.

I think a blog could help others know her, know how serious and precarious the life of a teenage girl truly is.  I have lots of things to say, and this may be the place ...lots of things about mothering, family, our culture.  Maybe in the end, this will just be my soapbox.  Oh well! 

Maybe I'll blog 20 times a day, maybe only once a month.  I have no set schedule. 

Join me, cry with me, laugh with me ...along this path I never would have chosen ...but Thy Will Be Done.