Reliving

Wednesday
A year ago I was welcoming  two of my girls home from school.  They were just transitioning into school from homeschooling.  It was a new adventure, one of my many things to watch and listen to, making sure we navigated in a healthy, wholesome way.  I would have looked at the clock and thought of Phoebe getting on the bus with her team, her team, she was one of the captains.  They were heading north of Boston for a game, if I recall correctly, a game I wouldn't get to ...just too far away.  She might have called me, she often did "what's for dinner?, will you make sure I have clean socks for tomorrow?  do we have any poster board?"  just regular checking in questions she'd have ....and excuse to call.
I remember making dinner, standing at the counter, later than we normally eat for some reason.  It was nearly seven.  The toys dropped, I heard a book slam down "Phoebe's home" someone yelled and three bodies raced down the stairs out to the driveway to greet their big sister.  The chatter was constant, Mary Claire reporting her life that day and details of everyone else's she'd observed or heard about.  "Mike, the mailman has a cold, he didn't give us any gum today," she might have said to Phoebe.  "Gums only for Saturdays," I can hear Phoebe telling her, like she had reminded her so many times.  Our mailman is  wonderful.  He has a bucket of gum in his truck. Early on we established between us and him that Saturday would be gum day.  Only Saturday.  Our kids would yell everyday "Is it Saturday?" as he drove by.  Phoebe had loved that, thought it was so cute ...and remembered as a young child the great anticipation of a simple piece of gum.  They all crowded through the door, Phoebe dropping her soccer bag and cleats on the front steps.  She had walked into the kitchen, and I looked up to a big smile, a happy, happy girl.  She went on to tell me about her game ...the best game ever ...even though they lost.
Thursday
She brought popcorn to school.  She'd asked me to make a lot of it "everybody loves it" she'd said.  She was driving herself that day in her dad's cadillac, "the cadoo" we called it.  There was a funny story behind getting that car.  One of our kids biggest challenges are our family's cars.  We have a fifteen passenger van, my minivan and this third car, the cadillac, which Phoebe hated at first ...but grew to love.  She'd left that morning like every other.  I had headed into work that day, talked to a friend about the challenges of life.  A shelf outside an apartment always had one picture of Padre Pio, this day, there were four of him.  I called my friend back wondering what he had in store for us .."whatever it is, its a doozy!"  We had laughed.  I would see one of my patients, prepare her for a weekend get-a-way.  I'd asked her where she was going.  It was the tenth anniversary of her daughter's death.  I told her I was so sorry, must be the hardest thing a mother could ever experience.  She'd nodded "yes, it is."  "How do you survive it?" I'd asked her.  "You just do, and yet you never really do," she'd answered.  I gave her a hug.  I closed her door, not knowing what I was walking towards, how God was taking these tiny moments to prepare me for the biggest moment of my life. 
I move to another patient, an old friend of my mothers.  Last time I saw her she'd told me it would be her anniversary, the first one she was living alone.  Her husband had died that spring.  Something prompted me to take a silver thimble of my mothers, wrap it  and bring it to her.  This woman loved needlework.  I handed to her and said I thought my  mother just wanted her to know she was thinking of her.  Tears had rolled down her cheek.  Was my mother making herself known for her friend, or for me, and what was to come ...the greeting of her granddaughter  in just two short days? 
That night would be hectic, a pasta dinner at the middle school, a meeting, pick-ups/drop offs.  There was the usual tension and chaos of meeting all the demands.  Phoebe had to do a pick up she didn't want to.  I remember a heated discussion reminding  her that she was, in fact, driving one of our cars ...we were allowing her to use it ...it wasn't hers.  Part of using it was participating in the family needs, in this case picking someone up.  She was mad.  Once we were all home people were still edgy ...it had been a busy week ...we needed Friday to come.  I had said goodnight, went to bed discouraged over my kids ingratitude ...and then stared long and hard at my own.  How could I expect my kids to live a life of gratitude when I so clearly and loudly didn't live it myself?  I remember that ...drifting off out of sorts  We'd had days like this before, it didn't stand out, no red flags waved ...nothing seemed different.
I remember this ...and I wish I could turn back the clock and walk differently, use different words, lie down next to my teenage daughter rather than retreat to my own bed disheartened.  Who knows what could have made the difference? 
Tonight I will go again to the pasta dinner at the middle school ...and I will smile for my kids.  Likely though I will be in my own little world remembering the phone calls, seeing Phoebe that night, and going to bed so discouraged, not knowing I would awaken to a beautiful day full of hope and promise ...our last day.
God writes a story far different than our own.  We could spend hours on drafts and rewrites ...but really, He tells it best.  Phoebe's story here is finished, but mine is not ....and moment by moment, filled with questions and doubt, I choose to believe He wrote Phoebe's story best ...and He's doing the same with mine.
Friends walk these days with me, I am blessed for the one's who've reached out ...noticed.  Yes, these are hard days, but rather than see them approaching the final day of gloom and despair ...I see them approaching a day when Phoebe burst into a life far beyond what we know.  For very good reason, I have absolute assurance my girl is with her Creator ...where she always belonged.

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