We just celebrated another Easter, and it was particularly special this year because it was Kaylee's first. (Not that she noticed at just 9 weeks old.)

It was a beautiful Easter with Chris' parents here at our house, lovely Charleston springtime weather, green buds and pink flowers sprouting everywhere you turned. Together we cooked and ate a delicious meal - all my Easter favorites: ham, banana pudding, macaroni salad. We delighted in Kaylee's soft coos and even her unrestrained cries. Kaylee grinned up at her G'ma and G'pa, studying their faces and smiling as their voices became more familiar through the weekend. My heart inflated with love at the mercy of our God and the sight Chris' parents discovering their new roles as grandparents, beaming with Kaylee in their arms. As a family, the five of us took a walk through the woods and into a field of white lillies. The sky above us was a mixture of Tarheel blue and stormy grey, as if the sunny and rainy weather were competing for the same space.

A similar struggle took place in my heart. Love and joy were at the forefront, but my soul ached for my own parents. Today is Monday and I am tired from stuffing down the sadness. That familiar, bitter concoction of sorrow and anger kept sliding its way back to me during the weekend.

When I grew up, Mom and Dad loved Easter, and it was very well celebrated in our house every year. My sister and I woke up to purple and pink Easter baskets (mine a little bigger than hers) sitting on the kitchen table stuffed with Milky Ways, Chocolate bunnies, and usually a stuffed animal or Barbie doll. Beside these baskets were others filled with colorful eggs we had dyed together the week before. After a big breakfast we would put on our new brightly colored and freshly starched Easter clothes - new dresses for us girls and a bright sky blue or yellow shirt for Dad. Then we would head to church. The old hymns and sermon were familiar that day, relaying the joy of salvation found in Jesus' empty tomb and pierced hands. As I got older, the day began much earlier with a pre-dawn trip to the beach for a sunrise service.

I know it is up to me to continue these traditions that are so dear. As my daughter grows up, I will uphold the customs my parents gave to me, as well as those my husband grew up with. I look forward to watching Kaylee run through the yard searching for Easter eggs, squealing in delight with each colorful egg she uncovers. I love Easter as my parents did. To me, Easter feels like a New Year as my sins are washed away in Jesus' blood and God is evident in the dawn of spring and the celebration of the rising of our Lord. On Easter, as I do every day, I will remember my parents and thank them for their teachings of faith and extra special traditions. But what will I do to lessen the pain of them not being here with us? Several times for just a fleeting second or two this weekend I felt the urge to go to my room and tear up, feeling sorry for myself and my sweet baby girl because for every joyful moment in my life, I am rocked with a feeling of loss and longing for my parents. I'm haunted by what is missing for my daughter. How can it be that this beautiful child will never know the love and warmth of my parents? That I will never buy Milky Ways and a purple Easter basket together with my mom and then sneak them in the house while Mom distracts Kaylee. I have to find a way to feel and know my mother is with me for myself and for my sweet Kaylee. I don't want to feel sorry for us ever. Is there a way to experience pure fulfillment like I remember before my parents were gone?

Lord, as I am reminded of your unwavering love proven by the sacrifice you gave to us, please teach me to not feel the burden of missing Mom and Dad every time something happy takes place in our lives. Please help me to soak in sweet memories and feel pure, bright joy that is never tinted with the

Goodbye... for now

Oh, dear, I'm getting sleepy, but that means tonight you get the raw truth. forgive me for grammatical errors. I have these intense thoughts on my mind and need to get them out.

The day Dad died I never expected it. Yes, he'd been sick but i didn't think he'd die that night. I thought I was coming to give him a hug of encouragement, to see him get better. i got there late that evening, gave him a hug, and asked the nurse why he was so cold. "Because he's on dialysis, his blood is not in his body, but is in the machine" the oriental nurse with black hair and blue scrubs said. I believed her whole-heartedly.

not that she lied to me, but with all means, looking back, i believe he was dead.

The next morning my sister and I both took the time to straighten our hair and stop at Hardees to get egg and cheese biscuits. that's how clueless we were. When we marched into the hospital with our biscuits and sweet teas, we never expected the news we'd get hit with.

The young doctor walked in and casually relayed the news to the entire family. We thought dialysis would help. But he was just so sick. He got progressively worse overnight and the dialysis machine couldn't keep up. At this point, there's nothing we can do. 

We can leave him on the machines, but just know that there will come a point soon when the heart pump will stop because his blood pressure is dropping so rapidly that eventually he will not even have enough of a pulse to keep his heart pump going. 

Okay, so the thing that was surgically implanted to keep him alive would soon not have enough juice to keep him breathing.

We kept him on the machines to give the rest of the family time to get in and say their goodbyes. At 1:00 that afternoon we surrounded his bed and the doctors cut the machines. Time to say goodbye.

I fully believe he was already gone. I have many, many times wondered if he was there when I arrived at the hospital the night before, when he was already so cold, with purple feet, or if even then he had a Heavenly view of my sister and me standing around his earthly body. Maybe he had the view but he wasn't even looking because he was overtaken by the joy and beauty of Heaven.

I imagine he saw his dad first. I think Pa greeted him at the gate with a "what are you doin herrrre?" and a grin. Then maybe grandpa pittman floated over and said, "come on, how 'bout let's show you around"

I think my mom said, "Greg. what are you doing here alREADY?" Dad turned around, gave her a huge smile and they hugged for a long time. i think after a while of hugging Mom said, "look Greg, here He is..."

Dad turned and saw Jesus.

I think at that time Dad fell to his knees and wept tears of joy and regret simultaneously. regret for his sins on earth, and joy because Jesus slashed through the sins and evil of the world one-by-one with a sword made of His blood. Jesus held out a hand to Dad, and Dad saw the holes in Jesus' hands. He said, "they are real. YOU are real. and i love you! I'm fin'lly home, baby!" I think then Dad took Jesus' hand and stood, and with immense joy and eagerness Dad let Jesus lead him to face God the Father.

I think today Dad is very busy in Heaven. I think his role is something of a social worker (not in a worldly sense though because there's no wrong up there), and he moves about the enormous space quickly, earnestly praising God and making everyone there laugh and remember their purpose is fulfilled. I think every evening Dad runs with the children in Heaven, coaching them and playing sports without tiring. Around noon he helps my Pa construct the mansion he builds. You see, Mom told me once that the Bible says in Heaven we all have a job and a purpose which helps fulfill our Lord's master plan of Heaven on Earth. In Mark Jesus says, "Come, go with me to my Father's house. He prepares a place for you in Heaven." So Mom believed Pa was working on God's holy mansion for the rest of us here on Earth. Now i think Dad pops in and helps whenever he feels like it. But he doesn't grow weary in the sun, and his muscles never ache. I think he fishes in the mornings and every once in a while I think he goes to the quietest pond to reflect on the love he has for his Savior and to peek in on my sister and me. I don't think he misses us at all because his heart is so full of love and peace, and he spends his days serving the Lord and others. he finally has all he could ever desire.

Although I hope my time on Earth is long so that I can serve others and see my own family grow, I so look forward to the day I meet my mom and dad in Heaven and let them show me around!

What Made Mom Her ~ Things I love and miss

The gentle way she moved her hands. the way her right hand lay across her thigh when she drove. her body hair was so fine and blonde she didn't shave above the knees, and you couldn't tell. she didn't even have to tweeze her eyebrows.(i didn't get that trait!) the way she lay her hands on the steering wheel - in the middle, not on the grip part. the way a little bit of spit formed in the corners of her mouth when she got excited and talked a lot. her laugh, which really wasn't often, but more of a m, m,mmm - really a forced laugh because she didn't find humor in funny movies or jokes. she really only laughed when someone actually said or did something happy and worth noticing. the way her bangs fell across her forehead. how she teased her hair at the crown. the face she made when she was cutting vegetables, kind of a frown. she always wore those white stretchy pants on weekends full of chores at home. i swear i remember those things from when i was four or five, and she was still wearing them when i graduated college. those brown sandals and bright-colored 3/4 sleeved sweaters she wore when we lived in chapel hill. how she was always running late. before work, church, everywhere! one year she and i were late to my own birthday party at the skating rink. all my friends were there skating laps when we got there. embarrassing :) the way she doodled in church, stopping only to sing, pray, or to take notes in the margins of her Bible. she also let me trace her hands and try on her wedding rings while we sat in church. oh, and she and i would play squares in church, and she would draw letters with dots and i would connect them. how she always wanted to talk about the movie we just watched as soon as we left the theater. how her lips would poke out and mush up when she cried. how blue, blue, blue her eyes were, especially during her last days at hospice. how she would rub her head slowly when she was bald from chemo. how she wore beautiful silky scarves and sharp hats that matched her power suits every day to work when she was going through chemo. how she wouldn't let anyone feel sorry for, nor would she ask for help during chemo. how she opted to do chemo every 2 weeks instead of the recommended 3 so she could get finished quicker - and she still made it into the law firm every day, refusing to give up. although when she got home in evenings, she often went straight to bed without eating. the way she called me kelly welly, especially to gently wake me in the mornings. one of my last text messages from her says kelly welly? she was just downstairs when she sent it, but never wanted to holler. in fact, she bought an intercom system for the house when i was in middle school so that we could communicate with a touch of a button instead of yelling down the hall. she liked quiet. she would not answer me if i ever yelled, until i calmly walked up to her and spoke quietly. she'd say "smart sound!" when she wanted the TV volume turned down. "hey babe" when she answered my phone calls. we spoke every day, normally 2 or 3 times the last year she was alive. the way she sat on my bed every night of my life from babyhood til i started college. we'd talk about our day, what happened at school, say prayers, and goodnights. the way she always said "you better hug your mama" when i wasn't hugging her back tight enough. the night i slammed my finger in the car door and she explained to me it was okay to say "pain in the neck" (which i'd learned from gran) but what you never ever say is "pain in the ass". the way she smiled with her eyes. how she loved to stay up til early morning talking during holidays or when i visited. walking through the woods gathering berries, pine cones, and other neat pieces of nature to make our christmas wreath every year. the way she gently rubbed our black lab lady's body and said softly through tears, "she's still warm" on the day we returned home from a funeral and found lady not breathing in the backyard. (lady died of cancer at 4 years old.) the night she called me into her bedroom and asked me "how would you like to have a little brother or sister?" can't remember my reaction but i remember her big grin and response "well, i think you're gonna have one" i remember she had horrible heartburn the rest of the pregnancy, otherwise no problems. how she put me in dance and modeling, taking me to classes, paying for photo shoots and an agent - i wonder if she dreamed of me hitting it big. i was told i was too short to ever make it in that business, but she always believed in me. the way she would come in my room in mornings to pull me out of bed when i'd been hitting snooze for too long, and she would end up lying down beside me and falling asleep herself. (hey, i get my bad morning habits honest) the way Dad bought her estee lauder youth dew nearly every christmas, and she did not like it so she had bottles of it lined up in the cabinet. when she took me to get my ears pierced at the mall for my birthday. how she refused to allow me to shave my legs even though most of the girls in my grade were. then the night before i left for disney world on a 3 day trip with the school, she brought home a razor and shaving cream and said i could let one of the girls show me how when we got to the hotel. how she wrote to me on cards and left them on my pillow for me to find. how she let me pick the paint colors for my bedroom and paint the walls myself whenever we moved. i still remember my 2 favorite colors - martha stewart's eidelweiss and ralph lauren's surfboard yellow. how she would sing songs from the sound of music. how she never ever ever farted out loud. and never cursed except for when she was in labor and when she was dying of cancer. the way she did for other people without ever saying a word about it. the ways she studied the bible, deeply, thoughtfully, through precept studies. she woke up at 4 a.m. and read the bible for an hour or two every morning. then she'd go back to sleep until she had to get up for work. she did this almost every night. her snacks, and meals for that matter - toast with peanut butter topped with nilla wafers, banana sandwiches with mayonnaise, tomato sandwiches, quiche, macaroni and cheese with a can of tuna in it...

Big Love with Velvet Ears

Dad adoringly called him "Chesta tha Molesta!" And he will molest you - that is, once you pet his head he will inch closer and closer, nudge your hand and put his head in your lap, staring you in the eyes, begging you to keep rubbing. Doooooonnn't stttoooop, he seems to say.

We lost him more than once. He is notorious for jumping out of the truck and disappearing. Sad to say, a few times Dad got to where he was going, got out the truck and walked around to let Chester out, but the dog was gone. After retracing his route, and stopping in every gas station along the way to see if anyone had spotted a happy yellow lab, he always found him. You would think Dad would not take him on any more truck rides but ohhhh no. Chester wouldn't have it that way, and Dad wanted to do about anything to keep Chester happy. Dad had a saying "When the tailgate drops, the bull$#!t stops." If Dad even went near his truck while Chester was in the yard, the dog was immediately by his side, ready to bound into the back. And anytime Dad dropped the tailgate, Chester would fly up into the bed of the truck. Every time Dad accidentally left the tailgate down, Chester would stay right in that truckbed - even overnight. He just didn't want to get left.

One time I was visiting Mom at her office for lunch and she got a call from Dad. She sounded aggravated, and when she hung up her face went mushy like she was going to cry. "Dad lost Chester," she said. "The best dog we've ever had." I got up and drove to Mom and Dad's as quickly as I could, printed some fliers and my sister and I posted them all across the three towns Dad had passed through until he realized Chester was missing. Dad, Ashley and I split up and hollered for Chester all around the county. We spent all day in the 100 degree weather looking for him. We were all thinking in the back of our minds it was just too hot for the poor feller, but we never gave up hope. We kept getting leads. Somebody had spotted him at a gas station, another behind the tire store. People kept remembering the wagging tail and neon green collar. Finally, right at dark, my cell phone rang. Dad was on the line saying "I got him! I got him!" Back at the rendezvous point (hehe), I found Dad at his truck all smiles and laughter with a relieved but thirsty Chester. He had wandered up onto the porch of an elderly man, who had walked outside and enjoyed Chester's company by his rocking chair all afternoon. A trip to town and the man got wind of a family out looking for a big yellow lab. The man tracked down Dad's phone number and soon Chester was home.

That night, Chester stretched out on the floor while the four of us - Mom, Dad, Ashley and I stretched out with him and took turns rubbing his belly.

Chester lives with me now and brings me a lot of comfort. He is a (large) piece of Mom and Dad I have still living. I still love to lie down and rub his belly in the quiet evenings, to feel those velvet soft ears when he nudges me for a head rub.

Living through Lyrics

Sometimes a single line from a song can take us back to an exact time in our life and allow us to relive it over and over without forgetting a detail. While these songs take me to a tough time, they are somehow soothing to listen to. I'm relieved they allow me to remember those details of the roughest times because reliving those moments also keeps the memory of those we lost alive.

Chris Tomlin's "I Will Rise"  We played this at Mom's funeral as the lyrics reflect scripture in Isaiah explaining the freedom, wholeness, and peace we'll experience in Heaven. As her illness spread and her earthly body deteriorated, she anticipated Heaven like a child waiting for Christmas.

There's a peace I've come to know 
Though my heart and flesh may fail 
There's an anchor for my soul 
I can say "It is well" 

Jesus has overcome 
And the grave is overwhelmed 
The victory is won 
He is risen from the dead 

[Chorus:] 
And I will rise when He calls my name 
No more sorrow, no more pain 
I will rise on eagles' wings 
Before my God fall on my knees 
And rise 
I will rise 

There's a day that's drawing near 
When this darkness breaks to light 
And the shadows disappear 
And my faith shall be my eyes 

Jesus has overcome 
And the grave is overwhelmed 
The victory is won 
He is risen from the dead 

[Chorus:] 
And I will rise when He calls my name 
No more sorrow, no more pain 
I will rise on eagles' wings 
Before my God fall on my knees 
And rise 
I will rise 

And I hear the voice of many angels sing, 
"Worthy is the Lamb" 
And I hear the cry of every longing heart, 
"Worthy is the Lamb" 
[x2]

[Chorus:] 
And I will rise when He calls my name 
No more sorrow, no more pain 
I will rise on eagles' wings 
Before my God fall on my knees 
And rise 
I will rise

Luke Bryan's "Drink a Beer"  This particular verse hits home hard (like I drove through a brick wall the first time I heard it. I almost pulled over for crying so hard.) and takes me right back to the day my mother died in hospice. I drove myself back to my parent's house alone, a zombie in the car. I was numb, tired, heavy, and completely lost. I'd been taking care of her all day and night for months and she'd been my closest comrade my whole life. When I got back to the house, I didn't know what to do. Her box of Nilla Wafers still sat in the cabinet, and I felt we shouldn't eat them. Her tissues were in the trash, and I hesitated to dump them out. Her lip prints were on the glass of Mountain Dew by her chair and I didn't want to wash it. The oxygen tanks and adaptive equipment glared at me and turned my stomach. I didn't want to change anything, for these remnants of her would be gone forever, but I didn't want to be still either. I felt a strong urge to stay busy, keep moving, but I  felt too exhausted.  I wanted to sleep so badly, but couldn't settle long enough to close my eyes. The silence of the house echoed in my head. My amazing husband (then fiance) sensed my state of unnerve and immediately kicked into gear. He lured me onto my parent's dock and forced me to climb onto a jet ski. He took me for a ride across the lake that was smooth like glass that evening. The sky was remarkable - orange and blue. It was the most spectacular day in June and as I absorbed nature I began to feel again. There was a literal tingle in my arms and a physical ache in my chest. Mom would have been out on that dock with a glass of sweet muscadine wine marveling at the breathtaking sky. I couldn't shake the feelings of doom and fear. Wouldn't life be too long without having my mom here to enjoy it with me? How would I ever smile again without wishing I could see her smile too? Would every happy occasion be shadowed by the grief of not sharing it with Mom? These lyrics of Luke Bryan's song take me back to that beautiful, excruciating evening on the water. I wrapped my arms around my fiance and squeezed him so tight as he gassed the jet ski and we flew across the lake. Tears poured from my eyes so thick and heavy I wondered how I could still have any left. We rode faster and faster on the jet ski and the tears flew off my face into the lake behind me. The speed, the weightlessness over the water, that orange sky and my tense arms so tight around the man I loved, it all allowed me to feel something when I'd been so numb. I wondered if I would ever again be truly happy. When I thought of Mom my chest locked up and I sobbed at the relief of her not being in pain, but the loss of her not being here with us. The rush of mixed emotion and trying to absorb it all - these lyrics take me back there.

Funny how the good ones go
Too soon, but the good Lord knows
The reasons why, I guess

Sometimes the greater plan
Is kinda hard to understand
Right now it don't make sense
I can't make it all make sense

So I'm gonna sit right here
On the edge of this pier
Watch the sunset disappear
And drink a beer

So long my friend
Until we meet again
I'll remember you
And all the times that we used to...

... sit right here on the edge of this pier
And watch the sunset disappear

And drink a beer 

Dani and Lizzy's "Dancing in the Sky" - Listen to it Here. Her voice is so beautiful, and her lyrics are too. Perfect description of the hopes I have for my parents in Heaven.

"Dancing in the Sky" lyrics

What does it look like in Heaven
Is it peaceful? Is it free like they say
Does the sun shine bright forever
Have your fears and your pain gone away

Here on earth it feels like everything good is missing, since you left
Here on earth everything's different, there's an emptiness

Oh, I hope you're dancing in the sky
And I hope you're singing in the angels' choir
I hope the angels know what they have
I'll bet it's so nice up in Heaven since you arrived

Now tell me, what do you do up in heaven
Are your days filled with love and light
Is there music? Is there art and invention
Tell me are you happy? Are you more alive

'Cause here on earth it feels like everything good is missing, since you left
And here on earth everything's different, there's an emptiness

Oh, I hope you're dancing in the sky
And I hope you're singing in the angels' choir
And I hope the angels know what they have
I'll bet it's so nice up in Heaven since you arrived, since you arrived

Consider the Ravens

Look at the ravens. They don't plant or harvest or store food in barns, for God feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than any birds! - Luke 12:24

Cardinal in my icey backyard

Enough said.

Remembering Dad

Remember the first Thanksgiving after Mom died and you and Ashley came to the tiny beach house Chris and I rented and we cooked a Thanksgiving meal for four? And you put a Cornish hen inside the turkey when I wasn’t looking and when you pulled the cooked turkey out of the oven and started pulling that stuffing out and said “Hey, what’s this?” just as I was standing beside you stirring the sweet tea. You pulled that little Cornish hen out of there on that black plastic spoon and said, “ It's a baby turkey.” I said “What? Woah, we got two for one, we got two for one!” I was so excited at the oddity! You were grinning great big and then you started laughing and then Ashley opened up the fridge and said “the turkey is what, Kelly?” as she pulled out an egg. “Preg-nant.” I realized then how stupid I’d been (blame it on lack of sleep) and Chris was recording the whole thing on his camera and I’d been fooled. I was so embarrassed. The four of us laughed so hard our eyes watered and bellies ached. You got me good, Dad. Thanks for making us laugh, even when I know you were aching for Mom so much. I know you’re pulling the same stunts up in Heaven. Love you.