After losing you, Luke, there are some things that normal people just don't have to think about..
Having to explain to your cousin Amanda (who's only 5) why I wear a necklace with your name on it around my neck and why I have a baby Luke Skywalker tattoo on my chest..."What does that mean?"
That's hard to explain in 5-year-old vocabulary.
Having to word an obituary for your Grandmother...where we include her two living grandchildren and you, who she's meeting before us in heaven...
Realizing that you will meet your Grandmother, wherever you are, before you get to meet me and your Dad. In a way I'm relieved--There's someone there to take care of you--that knew you in this world and that world. But I'm a bit jealous, too.
I hate thinking about how your Grandmother will never know any more of our children if we have them. That's it. She only knew you, and you're gone too.
Jeff's Mom passed away Tuesday, March 19 in her sleep. She was 77 years old and not in the greatest of health, but there were no signs that she'd go so soon or so quickly.
No one's ever prepared for death, really. The news...when I got it, hurt so much. Here we go again, I thought. But Jeff's own MOTHER? I can't say I know how he feels...but just thinking about losing my Mom...kills me inside. She was my mother-in-law, and it still kills me inside.
We've had enough hurt these past six months. Two bodies with no signs of life. Two trips to mortuaries. Two funeral services to arrange and attend. Two huge losses.
And then there's the aftermath. Because the trauma and finality of death isn't enough to comprehend--The finality of losing someone you love beyond words turns into piles of paperwork and processes and forms to be filed.
I'm ready for things to just be better. They have to get better, right?