It's been a long September

Those that know me best and even read this blog regularly know that I dread September. While I was starting this post that Counting Crows song, Long December, kept replaying in my mind. Because I feel that way about September. I mean 2010's September couldn't drag out more if it added 5 more days to the end of it.
Right now I sit in that deep grief that sometimes can't even be felt. Of course, I've experienced this before but I had forgotten the feeling until it came upon me again. The days, weeks and even months after my mom's death are a blur. I can barely remember her funeral service. It's because I was chest deep in pain and loss. I always vividly remember being right beside her as she took her last breath and it being an intimate moment that was given by God as a gift among the heartache. September is never the month to celebrate her life, it just doesn't seem right. But it does always bring me an awareness of the brevity of life and an urgency to love and live while I can.
Last year when I wrote this post I never could have imagined that almost to the day I would be letting go again. The last 4-6 weeks have that blur effect. The days just run together in a string of lasts. The last time Gamo came to Greenwood, the last time she saw the girls, the last thing she sewed for me, the last time she was well enough to walk without my help, the last time we had a conversation, the last time she drank and ate, the last time.... I was able to be there for a lot of last but she waited until I was gone for her last breath.
Today I'm feeling drained and numb from her loss. She meant so much to me and my girls. She was truly a one-of-a-kind. She can't be confused with someone else because she was just that different. A bright yellow in the middle of gray. The hardest part of a loss is finding a new normal. So much of my daily life included her. There are literally 15 times during the day that I want to pick up the phone and call about something the girls did. Or talk about getting the fabric for the annual dress making we do in the fall for B. I was looking forward to week long visits in Memphis to ward off my homesickness. But I will get by and find a new normal. The loss never fades but the hurt does dull with time.
The Matriarchs of my family are gone and now I must step up. I hope that I get the best of the both of them.

From the moment Lydia was born Gamo kept saying, "She doesn't even look like a newborn! She's exceptional!" Only from the mouth of a Grandmother...

Mother's Day and Lydia's Baby Dedication. She prided herself on looking young and was on cloud nine when people mistook her for my mother. "You don't look old enough to be her Grandmother!". "Oh, I'm actually a Great-Grandmother!"

Always so proud of Kara. She told Kara she was #1 just like she had always been.

Christmas at Uncle Terry's, 2009
Gamo and Bethany on her 1st Halloween. She and Bethany shared a very special relationship. Gamo stayed with us so much during Joey's intern year. She was there for all of Bethany's milestones.

Peace eluded from Gamo when she came home on Hospice. A quality I had never really seen her hold. She had come to terms with her illness and with her faith. A life-long journey of seeking out God and God being faithful in showing himself to her. I will rest in seeing the fruit of Peace in her discovery of the truth of God's word. The gift that I will treasure among this sorrow.

"But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you look for him with all your heart, and with all your soul." Deuteronomy 4:29