Time heals all wounds... well, almost

This week is going to be full of busy work, messy house, and big hugemungous extended family campout with all my siblings and their children.  Annual days of chaos and campfire.  Awesome.  And I have so much to do.

But I came to work this morning earlier than usual and took just a moment to think.  Seven years ago this very week, the scene was much different.  My family was planning a family campout not far from where we will be going this year.  And no one wanted to go.

Seven years ago, my mother was close to dying.  I stood vigil with my siblings in the August heat and the roaming blackouts while my mother slowly, steadily prepared to make her final journey.  But being the stubborn woman that she was, she insisted that my siblings actually go camping because, "I am never going to die with people here staring at me."  I think, secretly, she wanted to give her family the opportunity to have one last gift - the gift of being in a beautiful place during a time of sadness.

But I was so selfish and I could not go with them.  I had been helping my mother for nearly a year and it was hard to break away from that calling.  My sister, Jodi, was there and together were able to be there for my mother.  My mom was so independent, she would not allow us to do much for her, but we did what she would let us do.

Time seemed to slow down that week.  Life came to a standstill and the days of summer just crawled by while we listened to my mother breathe, cough, struggle.   We were so blessed that in the early morning on August 5th, she passed on with the home quiet and the day just breaking.  Dustin bravely drove his ailing vehicle (that was ruined permanently by the trip) to tell the family at the campground.  I will forever have a sad soul the first week of August remembering my mother and losing my best friend.