Another goodbye

Each first has its own personality, its own challenge.  Early this morning, before the patterns of our day began ...I drove to the place where Phoebe's body rests.  Alone, I stood there talking to her, crying, remembering her, loving her ...my oldest daughter.  I told her this was my time with her, but the rest of the day had to be for her sisters and brothers ...that its time to move on as best I can.  I have to give my heart to the living, and that includes even Phoebe, living in her new way.  Tomorrow marks seven months ...still early on in the processing of losing her, I know that.  But today, it had to have more joy than sorrow ...for her sisters, her brothers ...for me and her dad.
I could see her smile and nod ...my spitfire girl.  "Go mom, you should, go ...do that for you,"  I see her swoosh me away with her hands, as she had done many times.  Its that same wrestle moms have leaving their kids.  Some of us remember the first time we ran to the store for a stick of butter, milk ...leaving them alone for ten minutes, maybe less.  Would they survive?  What would happen while we were gone?  What if a crazy person with a gun broke in and kidnapped all of them?  ...all for a stick of butter.  Remember how hard and gut wrenching that was.  We laugh now, but those firsts were so hard.  Waiting at the bottom of the slide, no adult at the top as they totter so high above ...what if they fall off, hit their head, die ...while I'm here for catching them ...what if they never make it to the bottom.  And they do ...make it!  All those first times ...how much they drained from us.  Knowing we must hold on and protect ...and yet let go so they learn to live.  The fine balance is an art form us mothers learn ...finding a comfort zone, finding our way too.
This was my first time I told Phoebe and myself that the joy had to come first.  It didn't feel right in the morning, but tonight, I am certain it is.  The more I do this, choose the joy ...even when I don't feel like it, the more joy will become the fabric of my life, our lives ...even Phoebe's.  It's a big step for me ...a hard one.
Just moments after her death, I forced myself to trust God ...choosing to even when horror raced through me, betrayal, disbelief that a God, supposedly all loving, would allow such a nightmare. I kept choosing to trust ...when it felt completely contrary.  I have done that now for seven months, and it is no longer a choice ...it just is.  I trust God ...in all things ...even the hard things that tear me apart, dismember my soul.  I trust God.  So I know if I reach for something impossible, ridiculous even in a worldly way, and it is right and good, it will one day become part of me.  Trusting God is part of me ...most times.  So too, if I practice choosing joy over the sorrow, rather than the joy and the sorrow, as I have been doing ...then the joy will become the fabric of my life far, far more than the sorrow.  It will take time, but it will  happen ...if I keep choosing.
Phoebe twinkled her way into my life today ...joyfully!  I left her today asking her to hug the Blessed Mother for me, beg her to watch over and protect my kids. Mass concluded with a May procession to crown the Blessed Mother in the garden ...a tradition during the month of May, Mary's month. Today, it was a gift and a gentle reminder that Our Lady, Mother of Most Pure Love, radiates in my life, answers when I call, watches over my Phoebe. 
It was a good 'first'.  A 'right' first Mothers' Day ...as right as it could ever be.  Still knowing, that in God's design and generosity Phoebe was still with me and us, leading us all to brighter days.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen.