P.S....I love you!
I sat there silently sobbing, trying to think of
how to make this dark feeling leave our home. I was rehearsing the events of
the day— trying to understand why everyone seemed to be taking their emotions
out on each other—when my sister, Ali, came walking in and plopped down next to
me. She was crying as well. Apparently negative emotions were in the air for
her too. She said, “I broke up with Will. … He doesn’t deserve to have a broken
girlfriend who has no idea how to love him back.” She threw her arms around me
and we both cried like little babies.
I thought about what she had just said because it
rang true to my own heart. I was broken . . . there was no doubt about it. I
couldn’t imagine being where she was and trying to love a man at that time in
her life. We sat there for a while, just sobbing and feeling sorry for ourselves,
and for each other. Our lives were stuck! She had been there right along side
of me through it all . . . and the aftermath of our tragedy was not leaving us
feeling much hope for our futures. Our roles in the story were not the same . .
. but the pain in our hearts was intertwined. I could feel her pain as she laid
her head on my shoulder, and I could almost feel her lift some of my pain from
off my back.
Thank goodness for Tiffanie on days like this. She had been the one that just got
kicked in the face, and yet she was out there taking care of the kids while I
sat in my closet crying with my sister . . . another one of those sweet moments
I will never forget. We felt as if our despair was so deep that we would never
be able to rise above it, and our pain felt as though we were the only ones in
the world who had ever hurt like this. There were not many times when I shared
my safe haven spot in my closet . . . but that day, I had a shoulder to
cry on and I got to provide a shoulder for my sister to cry on as well. Without
my family, I don’t know where I would be today. They have brought me much
of the beauty that I’ve found again in this world. They have been the rock I
have relied on . . . when my foundation was crumbling. We had many good times
shared with Emmett, but they they have also made many new memories with me,
which I will never forget.
Well, that day, the kids kept talking about how
excited they were not to have school on Monday because it was Memorial Day. I
had decided to just pretend that Memorial Day didn’t matter to me this year. There
was no way I was going to take that drive again to Emmett’s grave. I hadn’t
recovered from the trauma of the first time we had been there, and I was
determined to just have a little memorial service at home with the kids. It
didn’t make any sense to drive all that way . . . and it wasn’t like he would even
know of all the effort it would take. Our house felt broken. There was so much
contention stirring around in it that its atmosphere felt thick and dark. The
last thing we needed was to drag all of our broken selves far away to put
flowers on Emmett’s grave.
Tiff and I sat silently folding laundry, while the
kids were spread throughout the house. All of the sudden, an impression came to
my mind. I looked at Tiffanie and said, “We have to go. I need you to put all
these outfits in a suitcase and find swimming suits for all the kids. I’m calling
Heather and Frank (some of Emmett’s and my best friends) to find us a hotel. We
have to go put something on Emmett’s grave this weekend. The kids need to be
there again . . . and I need to see it. That’s the answer to the darkness in
the house today. We need to leave as soon as our bags are packed.”
Within one hour, our bags were loaded into the car
and we were on our way to Logan. It was interesting to be making the trek we
had made just a few short months before. I still don’t have much of a
recollection of that day. I had been in such a daze, and I still have no idea of
how my car and all the babies inside it ever made it . . . knowing we were
driving there to put Emmett’s body into the ground.
This time was different. We had come out of our
state of shock, but the thought of visiting the gravesite still left a bad
taste in my mouth. The heaviness I thought would leave me as we drove away from
home, seemed to linger. The reality of going to see Emmett’s grave made my
heart hurt. I tried to deny the fact that he was dead . . . and the thought
that Memorial Day would always be a day when I had to think of him being gone,
was a difficult one. I wasn’t okay
with the idea that we would have to stand there alone, putting flowers on his
grave. It just didn’t seem right . . . but for some reason, I longed to be
there. Somewhere inside of me, I thought maybe he would be there waiting for us
. . . or I would at least feel his presence.
We talked about life the whole way there; what life
was like before, what it had become, and what I really wanted it to be again
someday. I talked a lot about the memories I had of Logan and what a great time
it had been for us there. I thought of all our barbecues with our friends. I
reminisced about the summers spent at our apartment complex with everyone
laughing and watching our kids have the time of their lives on a cheap
playground set. Everything had been so simple, so wholesome, and so good.
Every memory seemed bright and uplifting, and almost perfect in my
mind.
I was excited to be in that little town again, and
somewhere inside of me, I began to think that maybe we should move there. Looking
back now, I know that I was just trying to run away from everything at home. I
truly believed that by moving back to Logan, it would somehow bring me back to
life. I felt that if I lived there, I would be filled with all of the good
memories of the fun years Emmett and I had shared there. As we drove, I actually
started making plans to find a home and move the kids to the town where Emmett
and I first fell in love and began our family.
In the movie Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, there is a part where the main
character, Flint, sprays his invention called ‘Spray on Shoes’ onto his feet
and then realizes he’s never going to be able to take it off again. He
describes his frustration, “I wanted to run away that day . . . but you can’t run away from your own feet!”
I would have to say there have been many moments in
the last few years, when I have felt that same feeling of being trapped like
Flint describes. Driving to Logan that day was one of those moments. I felt
that if I moved to another city, back to a town that had brought me a lot of
joy . . . maybe my circumstances would change, maybe all my pain would
disappear. What I know now—but didn’t realize then—is that you cannot run away
from your own feet! Changing your environment might make a difference for a
time, but, if you don’t fix what’s wrong inside, eventually it will all feel
the same.
When we got to the hotel that night, I realized
that the next day was Sunday. We wouldn’t have time to buy any flowers, go to
church and then get up to Bear Lake to the grave in the timeframe we had
planned. So, after the kids were all in bed, I decided to run to Walmart to
pick up some flowers. Easy, right?
However, as I stood near the Walmart entrance
staring at all the flower arrangements—as if they were covered in spider webs—I
couldn’t even bring myself to touch them. I knew if I actually picked one out, it
would mean that all of this was real . . .
and that I would actually have to drive my children to their father’s
grave and decorate it. If I picked out a flower wreath that said ‘DADDY’ on it
. . . it really meant their dad was gone. I wasn’t ready to face that reality .
. . so I just stood there and didn’t move.
I have no idea how long I had remained frozen there,
with subtle tears flowing down my cheeks, when a young man walked over to me
and grabbed my arm. “Hey,” he said, “I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful you
are and I was wondering what you’re doing just standing here?” I glanced my
eyes his way without moving my body . . . thinking, ‘this poor shmuck has no
idea what he just got himself into.’ I wiped my face and said, “Well actually,
I am trying to talk myself into picking out a flower wreath so my kids can go
decorate their dad’s grave tomorrow for Memorial Day.” He half smiled, and said
. . . “Ha ha, that’s funny . . . you got me. … Wait, are you serious? … I am so
sorry . . . how did he die?” Another deep breath. Poor kid, he was asking for
it! “Well, actually, he was murdered . . . so, we done yet?”
I guess this guy had no filter . . . or maybe he
actually liked being in this awkward situation with me, because he persisted.
“Like, why, how . . . what happened? Did you know the other person? … Do they
know why? Do you mind talking about it . . . I just . . . I don’t know what to
say . . . ” Apparently, in his mind, not knowing what to say meant to keep
right on talking. Since I could tell I wasn’t going to get rid of him easily, I
just spilled out the entire sordid story. For a few minutes, I just let it all
out! It felt good to get it out of my head, but weird to be telling it to a
complete stranger.
He stared at me as if I were a ghost. “Wait, are
you really serious? Are you making this up or . . . is there something wrong
with you?... This isn’t a funny joke.” I didn’t know whether to laugh and tell
him he’d just been punked, or to continue talking. “I am sorry to say I am
serious . . . and it sucks . . . and I am scared . . . and I don’t want to do
any of it. Now, will you PLEASE leave so I can finish what I’m doing here?” He
started to walk away. Finally I could go back to feeling sorry for myself and
wondering how to physically pick up a bouquet . . . or any other arrangement .
. . off the shelf.
Again, I just stood there staring, when all of the
sudden, he was back. “Hey . . . I believe you and I am so, so sorry . . . but I
can’t walk away from you without knowing if I could see you again. … Can I have
your phone number?”
I think it took me about two minutes to comprehend
what he had just asked, and to really know what to do. I blankly glared his way.
“After all that . . . really? Why the heck would you want my number? I just told
you about my crazy life . . . and that I have five kids and that I’m widow of
someone who was murdered! He was shot because he was cheating on me. … I have a
murder trial to go to in the next year or so . . . so why on earth would you
want to ever talk to me again? What the HELL would you do with my phone number?”
He waited a minute and smiled and said very softly, “Well, you seem like an
amazing person, an awesome mom, and like I said before I heard your story, I
think you are beautiful.”
So without a second thought, I gave him my number! After
he left, I grabbed a flower wreath and went through the checkout without any
more hesitation . . . not another minute of wallowing in my pain, or wondering
how I’d get through tomorrow’s events.
I don’t know why I gave him my number, but it
actually felt good to think that someone could see any beauty in me after hearing
the truth about my past. I walked out of the store, a little wigged out that I
had just told my story and given my phone number to a complete stranger . . . while
picking out flowers for my dead husband’s grave! I felt almost ashamed that I had
allowed myself to say those numbers out loud . . . and that for a moment, I had
stopped thinking about Emmett.
I had parked in the middle of nowhere, so the walk back
to my car was like being on a rollercoaster of excited panic and pathetic panic
. . . alternating mode. One second, I felt like a giddy little high school girl
who had just been asked out to prom . . . and the next second, I felt like I had
just walked into my house at three a.m. and gotten caught by my Mom when I was
way past curfew. I was overwhelmed with the excitement and the fear that I had
done something wrong. I finally reached the car and opened up the back to lay
down the flower wreath. I hadn’t paid much attention to which wreath I had actually
grabbed. It was beautiful, but it was also ugly. I almost felt as if it were
looking down on me for what I had just done. I slammed the trunk shut, so as
not to see it any longer, then opened the door on the driver’s side and plunked
down into the seat. My head fell onto the steering wheel, and the tears fell
onto my lap.
I felt ashamed that instead of focusing on choosing
the perfect flowers for Emmett’s grave, I had been distracted by this man asking
questions about my tragedy and asking for my phone number. I couldn’t move—I
was just as frozen as I had been while first looking at the flowers. Despair
set into my mind. Then as plain as day, I heard Emmett’s voice—as real as if he
were sitting in the passenger seat—saying: “I just wanted you to know that
you’re beautiful.”
I lifted my head and turned toward his voice. No,
it was just me in the car. I could feel him, but I couldn’t see anyone
sitting next to me. I sat there in the silence, trying to soak in the
moment. I knew it wouldn’t last long . . . but it was perfect. I could feel him
pleading with me, “You can do this, you have to do this for them. You are an
incredible mother and you are going to make an amazing wife for someone else
one day.” Instantly, I felt free from the torment I had allowed to creep
into my mind.
In that moment, I knew Emmett wanted me to give
that boy my number. He was not ashamed that I had felt reassurance from the
admiration of another man. In fact, he
had sent him there to help me see that I was
lovable. Emmett knew I wasn’t going to snap out of my pain as I stood there—all
alone—picking out flowers. No, I needed help! The flowers didn’t mean anything
to Emmett, they were not important. What he cared about in that moment, was ME.
… He wanted me to let go of the pain and move forward in that moment when I had
been frozen in time.
I needed that day more than I will ever know. It
was a humbling conversation that made me realize that I still had value; and
even though Emmett had not used his last days to see my value . . . I was still
me. I was still desirable, and someday I was going to be capable of loving
again. I may have felt broken on every level of the word . . . but I was
beautiful and I was lovable just the way I was . . . crazy past and all. I
could be adored, and desired, and I could make someone happy again. I deserved
to know that I was good enough. The role I played in my past life was one I
could be proud of. It was a role I played with patience, love and
strength. It was a role I played with power. It was a role I played with
humility. I was not perfect, but I had given it my all. I was all I had . . .
and it was enough. I was so grateful to know that Emmett could see that in me
now . . . and he was able to remind me that I needed to find it in myself
again.
That was a tender mercy for me. It was the day I
realized that I not only could love again . . . but that I was lovable. I could
be enough. And even though I was feeling like a broken shell of a person, I was
still desirable and capable of someday learning how to be me again.
Every single person who has ever lived needs to
know that he or she has value. Even those of us who spend months, or years,
pretending that our feelings of inadequacy don’t affect us need to feel that we
have value . . . because those feelings of inadequacy do impact us. None of us
want to question our value and worth; we all want to feel special and
important. We all want to feel loved. Sometimes, others are sent to remind us of
how great we are . . . but sometimes, there are moments when we have to stand
alone and seek it within ourselves.
Don’t ever let a moment pass when you see someone’s
beauty and you don’t take the chance to tell them. If you feel someone’s worth
. . . let them know how it has impacted you. They may be frozen . . . trying to
remember what it is inside of them that makes life worth living. Even if you
never hear it about yourself, take time to show those whom you love that you
believe in them. You might just save a soul; you might just be the gift of
love sent from God to remind them of His love for them.
In those moments when you feel like you are trapped
in your own shoes . . . remember that no matter how hard you try to run, you
will still be you. Embrace the fact that you don’t have to change everything
about yourself to live the life you have always wanted. You will never abandon
your own skin . . . so learn to see its worth. We all have good inside of us
and all around us; Heavenly Father wants us to not only see it, but feel it. He
wants us to remember to love ourselves.
There are reminders of His love and mercy all
around you: the tiny voices that call out your name, the arms that reach for
you, the questions asked that only you can answer, the tears shed that only you
can wipe, the smiles that are smiled, the heads lying on your shoulder, the dog
waiting at the door for you, the neighbor who waves every time you pass by, the
old man at the restaurant who always comes to ask how your day is going and refills
your drink, a breathtaking sunset, a little humming bird at your window, a
gentle kiss, or a hand to hold. Even the tiniest flower is sent to beautify
your environment.
Beautiful things surround you . . . but you might
be missing them because all you see is the darkness trying to destroy beauty. In
all the beauties of the earth are tiny little messages of love hidden inside. God
created earth’s beauty just for you. He sent you to the family you are in . . .
because mortality will be hard and you will need each other . . . but also
because He wants you to experience the joy that only the members of your family
have to offer. He has blessed you with the body you have, because only it could
house your perfect spirit . . . no other body ever created could do that job
for you. He has sent you to earth to live in every moment, and to magnify your
days. He wants you to see your worth and the role you were sent to play amidst
the beauty that surrounds you every minute of every day.
Look for the wonders of the earth; seek for the
goodness of the land. Climb to the top of a mountain just to hear the silence;
sail out in the waters just to see their splendor. Fly through the air and enjoy
the view; watch for the majestic scenery when you drive through a mountain
pass. There is grand magnificence waiting for you.
But . . . don’t express gratitude just for the majestic
beauty He has created for you . . . because most often, the more subtle
beauties in front of you right now are often overlooked. Don’t miss your baby’s
first smile because you are out seeking to climb Mount Everest. Don’t sail away
your days seeking for the grand magnificence of the earth . . . while the
beautiful relationships you possess wait at home for you to see THEM. Let the
little things be enough . . . and express gratitude for them every minute of
every hour, for they are the beauty with which God has blessed you. Hold dear
the wonders that surround you right now. If you have come to a place where
others’ love for you seems to have disappeared . . . show them a little more
love, while you patiently wait for theirs to shine through once again. Just
because you are in a place where you cannot see or feel love doesn’t mean it is
not there waiting for you. Pray for the gift to feel . . . beg for the
gift to see.
Heavenly Father knows your heart; He sees your
pain. It is through Him that we can find peace, even in our loneliest times
when we stare out at beautiful flowers but are surrounded by darkness. When
the darkness surrounds you . . . and screams to you over and over that you are
not enough . . . don’t give up on yourself. Don’t let the darkness win. Watch
for the tender mercies that God is trying to send just for you. Sometimes
Christ doesn’t have anything more for us than a shoulder in our closet to cry
on, or a boy at Walmart to distract us from our pain and remind us that we are
enough. Maybe in some moments, it won’t be another person sent to express His
love. Maybe it will come through a feeling deep inside your soul, a tender calmness
to let you know that He believes in you. He loves you, and you are enough for
HIM.
There are reminders everywhere . . . little messages
that reassure you . . . that Christ is
whispering just for you:
“P.S . . . I love you!”
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