Five Balloons
Death can be scary. As a child, I remember my mom and dad often telling me
to "fear nothing but God Himself." Death being one of the things I
shouldn't fear. It makes sense. Why give much thought at all to something that
is completely out of your control? But, as I stepped over the wet damp grass
toward Uncle Lorens Roper's grave on Wednesday morning, a wonderful man who
lived a full 98-year life, I thought about all of this (and more) in that 30
feet I crossed.
I'll never forget the first trip Kyle and I took away from Jaxon. He was a little over a year old and we needed (okay wanted) to travel to Las Vegas for a relative's wedding. I was frozen by the idea of having to write a will. It made me think of awful things that I wasn't ready to think about. I remember my mom urging me to write anything, something, should anything happen to us. The night before we left, I found a pen and piece of notebook paper, sat down and balled my eyes out for an hour and a half while I lived my worst nightmare. When I was done, I folded it up and shoved it into the desk drawer and walked away. Let's just say when I got back from Vegas (surviving, obviously) my first mission was to the office room - I ripped it up. Of course later I came to my senses and we actually put together a more professional will. It was easier the second time. But, now that I'm a parent, I've realized death has become scary again. Something I hadn't been ready to face with my growing 6 and 3 year old staring up at me every day with their curious big blue eyes. But I know that thinking is wrong. As Uncle Lorens was laid to rest in Syracuse, Nebraska, an honorable World War II veteran, shotguns sounded to "Taps" from trumpets. A man in an Army uniform bent down and handed the folded American flag to Lorens' niece and saluted her (a very strong and patient salute). There was a long pause as they stared at each other. I think it was that peaceful and surreal moment that changed things for me.
Or maybe it was this one. There was something about Easter this year for me that wasn't only about the usual bunnies and eggs. It was building in me at Lorens' funeral and I didn't know why. While standing at Easter service singing songs a few days later, I began to think about some things I hadn't thought about in awhile. I began to think about my two wonderful children, my rainbow babies, and how I adore them. But I also began to think about the three I lost in between Jaxon and Norah. For many reasons, which I won't go into (however many of you who have had a miscarriage know exactly what I mean) I had pushed a lot of my thoughts around that time in my life aside. Buried it deep and simply moved on. I think I thought I could just move past it all. And I had. But, we were singing and my mind just drifted....just far enough out of reach. For the first time in a very long time, I thought about all of it. It was just God and me having an open door policy or something. I thought about the elation of finding out we were pregnant. Each time. And the pain and utter devastation of the nightmare that was happening. Each time. I remember thinking about the lady handing out balloons at church that day and that I wanted to ask for, not 2, but 5 balloons to release outside as a family after service. Would that be alright? Would she question me? It's not like she knew me. Would she need "proof of child?" Obviously not, but it felt strange to ask. We never did anything special to commemorate the losses. No lanturn fest or butterfly burial. I think we just wanted to move on and not think about it. And we were fine with that actually. But for some reason I was thinking about it now. I kept trying to distract myself, but my mind kept tugging back. I asked for five balloons.
Let's just say things occurred more beautifully in my mind. I imagined we’d walk outside, find a quiet area, one of us would magically come up with something amazing and memorable to speak in that moment of remembrance, we’d release the balloons one-by-one staring at them until they became tiny dots in the sky…and we’d kiss. Instead, I’m not sure what to do at all. We walk outside, our kids are whining because they’re hungry, there are large groups of people surrounding us as we try to make our way to the car. The kids didn’t want to release their balloons of course, so after packaging them up in the car, minus two balloons, Kyle and I awkwardly stand in the loud parking lot as cars pass by us wondering what we’re doing. We mumble something quickly that doesn’t quite feel right, release them all together at once, only to see that they get stuck in the tree branches above us, plinking their way toward the tree tops. Unsure of what just happened, we decide this moment has expired and we turn and head toward the car. There's a laugh in there somewhere. However I cried a hard cry.
I don’t think I knew until now what the past week was stitching together for me – from the peace and quiet aura that settled in me at an old man’s funeral to recalling the emotions around drafting our first will to the rising feelings I was suddenly having surrounding a few yellow balloons that creeped into my happy Sunday. Where did all that come from? Why was I giving this so much pause? So here's what I've come to understand much better. Death isn’t scary...maybe death is healing. A time for healing for those left behind….and healing for those who have passed into a life everlasting. And whenever that healing occurs, it's important.
I feel pretty good about that.
***
Speaking of life, we have many things to celebrate, and I wanted to share some of life’s special moments from our family over the past few months. A few updates. Jaxon is now 6 ½, Norah 3 ½. Jaxon loves Kindergarten at Bennet Elementary, math, pokemon, Minecraft, drawing mazes, playing soccer, T-Ball and hockey. Norah is still at Christ Schools pre-school and enjoys art, coloring, cooking, swimming and we may soon enter her in gymnastics. Kyle and I enjoyed a little time away in Play del Carmel, Mexico, in February with friends. We are loving the country life in Bennet and are soaking up every moment of this great life. Come out and visit us sometime. We probably already have a wine glass waiting for you.
I'll never forget the first trip Kyle and I took away from Jaxon. He was a little over a year old and we needed (okay wanted) to travel to Las Vegas for a relative's wedding. I was frozen by the idea of having to write a will. It made me think of awful things that I wasn't ready to think about. I remember my mom urging me to write anything, something, should anything happen to us. The night before we left, I found a pen and piece of notebook paper, sat down and balled my eyes out for an hour and a half while I lived my worst nightmare. When I was done, I folded it up and shoved it into the desk drawer and walked away. Let's just say when I got back from Vegas (surviving, obviously) my first mission was to the office room - I ripped it up. Of course later I came to my senses and we actually put together a more professional will. It was easier the second time. But, now that I'm a parent, I've realized death has become scary again. Something I hadn't been ready to face with my growing 6 and 3 year old staring up at me every day with their curious big blue eyes. But I know that thinking is wrong. As Uncle Lorens was laid to rest in Syracuse, Nebraska, an honorable World War II veteran, shotguns sounded to "Taps" from trumpets. A man in an Army uniform bent down and handed the folded American flag to Lorens' niece and saluted her (a very strong and patient salute). There was a long pause as they stared at each other. I think it was that peaceful and surreal moment that changed things for me.
Or maybe it was this one. There was something about Easter this year for me that wasn't only about the usual bunnies and eggs. It was building in me at Lorens' funeral and I didn't know why. While standing at Easter service singing songs a few days later, I began to think about some things I hadn't thought about in awhile. I began to think about my two wonderful children, my rainbow babies, and how I adore them. But I also began to think about the three I lost in between Jaxon and Norah. For many reasons, which I won't go into (however many of you who have had a miscarriage know exactly what I mean) I had pushed a lot of my thoughts around that time in my life aside. Buried it deep and simply moved on. I think I thought I could just move past it all. And I had. But, we were singing and my mind just drifted....just far enough out of reach. For the first time in a very long time, I thought about all of it. It was just God and me having an open door policy or something. I thought about the elation of finding out we were pregnant. Each time. And the pain and utter devastation of the nightmare that was happening. Each time. I remember thinking about the lady handing out balloons at church that day and that I wanted to ask for, not 2, but 5 balloons to release outside as a family after service. Would that be alright? Would she question me? It's not like she knew me. Would she need "proof of child?" Obviously not, but it felt strange to ask. We never did anything special to commemorate the losses. No lanturn fest or butterfly burial. I think we just wanted to move on and not think about it. And we were fine with that actually. But for some reason I was thinking about it now. I kept trying to distract myself, but my mind kept tugging back. I asked for five balloons.
Let's just say things occurred more beautifully in my mind. I imagined we’d walk outside, find a quiet area, one of us would magically come up with something amazing and memorable to speak in that moment of remembrance, we’d release the balloons one-by-one staring at them until they became tiny dots in the sky…and we’d kiss. Instead, I’m not sure what to do at all. We walk outside, our kids are whining because they’re hungry, there are large groups of people surrounding us as we try to make our way to the car. The kids didn’t want to release their balloons of course, so after packaging them up in the car, minus two balloons, Kyle and I awkwardly stand in the loud parking lot as cars pass by us wondering what we’re doing. We mumble something quickly that doesn’t quite feel right, release them all together at once, only to see that they get stuck in the tree branches above us, plinking their way toward the tree tops. Unsure of what just happened, we decide this moment has expired and we turn and head toward the car. There's a laugh in there somewhere. However I cried a hard cry.
I don’t think I knew until now what the past week was stitching together for me – from the peace and quiet aura that settled in me at an old man’s funeral to recalling the emotions around drafting our first will to the rising feelings I was suddenly having surrounding a few yellow balloons that creeped into my happy Sunday. Where did all that come from? Why was I giving this so much pause? So here's what I've come to understand much better. Death isn’t scary...maybe death is healing. A time for healing for those left behind….and healing for those who have passed into a life everlasting. And whenever that healing occurs, it's important.
I feel pretty good about that.
***
Speaking of life, we have many things to celebrate, and I wanted to share some of life’s special moments from our family over the past few months. A few updates. Jaxon is now 6 ½, Norah 3 ½. Jaxon loves Kindergarten at Bennet Elementary, math, pokemon, Minecraft, drawing mazes, playing soccer, T-Ball and hockey. Norah is still at Christ Schools pre-school and enjoys art, coloring, cooking, swimming and we may soon enter her in gymnastics. Kyle and I enjoyed a little time away in Play del Carmel, Mexico, in February with friends. We are loving the country life in Bennet and are soaking up every moment of this great life. Come out and visit us sometime. We probably already have a wine glass waiting for you.
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| Billy Joel concert! #datenight |
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| Barr Family Easter |
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| Bruss Family Easter |
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| Bennet Park Easter Egg Hunt. Jaxon with his buddies from Kindergarten. |
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| Friends who vacation together...such fun times in Play del Carmen. |
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| Ahhh (deep sigh). #ValentinImperial |
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| I love this picture! Captures life. Captures chaos. Captures being a kid. |
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