Ten Years!

 

Today marks ten years since Lynn has been gone from us.  As we reminisce about her, the image above is atypical: a rare somber moment facing down Jacob wearing his characteristic grin.  Most often, she was grinning right back at them as they shared the same quirky sense of humor.  On this day when Jacob has only fuzzy direct memory of his mom, this feels like the right way to regard her.  She is never far from him.

Lauren has to a moment too.  I blame Lynn's genes for Lauren's allergy and asthma challenges.  For all of the times that Lauren has been out of breath, the memory and force of her mom's influence has remained to blow with her.  She is never far from Lauren.

And now I get one.  From our engagement photos, I don't think I really comprehended just how young Lynn was.  And we all know... she never would quite grow up.  She remained young and joyful.  She is never far from me.

I've found myself recently retelling my experience the night before Lynn died.  I awoke in the middle of the night with a sob.  In the next moment, a sudden profound peace washed over me.  I lay in bed only a few minutes before her mom knocked on the door to tell me that something had changed and that I should come be with her.  She died later that morning.  It was an Easter Sunday.

This year, Easter Sunday falls on my 49th birthday.

When I related my experience in this blog shortly after Lynn's passing, few of those reading knew that I had undergone an inner faith throughout the preceding years.  Lynn knew; those it was challenging for us, we shared a deep love.  She expressed only confidence that Lauren and Jacob would be okay with me parenting alone.  I am grateful for that.

I have never taken for granted how difficult it has been for some of those closest to me, Lynn's family most of all, to support me despite my decisions regarding my religious affiliation.  I am sad to think that my religious stance may have contributed to when distances have opened.  I accept the connection to others' grief and hold no grudges though perhaps some regret to wonder whether I could have done it all differently to spare some pain.

But now I am back in that moment when maybe some part of her that is connected to me touched my consciousness.  There are other moments that I've never left: like when I cleared away all of the medical supplies and other items in the room in which she lay barely responsive.  I realized that I was creating a peaceful sanctuary in which she would pass.  I still remember the music that played as I performed the service and wept.

Though I am not inclined to view these experiences through a religious lens, they remain sacred to me and spiritually anchor me.  I can think back nearly thirty years to when my mother died in a car accident while I was away on my church mission.  More moments that I have never left.

About ten years after my mom died, I came alive again from the glow of Lynn's joyous living.  Ten beautiful years with her that end with some pain with bittersweet reminders of how lucky I had been.  Then ten more years adjusting to life without her.  A life that always has been filled with love.  Loss.  Grief.  Renewal.  Moving forward but never on.  Always remaining in moments that have shaped and formed me.  One breath away from a sob and another heartbeat from a deep peaceful serenity that tells me that all is okay even when it all looks to an outside observer to be falling apart.  I've never quite left those moments; though I have changed several times over in response to loss, transformations in religion, faith, spirituality; I remain in some sense the child just starting adulthood who lost a mother.  The father losing a wife whose death was ironic compared to how much she lived in too short of a life.  And now the middle-aged guy who has found love again.  Well... that last story doesn't belong in Lynn's blog.

Ten years after Lynn passing, I wanted to remind that something truly spiritually foundational happened as her life was slipping away.  We remain always connected.  And while I am more prone to these bouts of deep reflection (and possibly rambling, sorry) I will also go out with some of Lynn's best friends tonight and laugh in the afterglow of her wonderful life that remains connected to me no matter what transpires in my life from here on out.

We love and miss your immediate presence today, Lynn!