Grief Revisited

(My mom at the Oregon Coast, July 2009)

I was driving my boys home from a day at the beach when it happened. A song came on the radio that reminded me of my little sister and suddenly my chest tightened in that old familiar way it does as a fresh wave of grief hit me. As I struggled to breathe tears poured down my cheeks as I let my mind take me back to the day my world was forever changed.

It was Saturday evening and Randy and I had just dropped off the boys at our neighbor's house so we could go on a date. We decided to try out a sushi-go-round. I dared Randy to try every unidentifiable dish that passed by on the conveyor belt. If he liked it, then I'd try a bite. After we had eaten all the raw fish our stomachs could handle, we headed to the grocery store for milk before going to a cafe for cheesecake. As we waited in line to purchase our groceries I said to Randy, "Let's forget the cheesecake and just go home." Randy looked at me with raised eyebrows. I have never turned down an opportunity for cheesecake.

We got home and walked in the door to the sound of the phone ringing. Randy took the boys upstairs for baths while I raced to answer the phone. I quickly glanced at the caller ID and saw it was my older sister Laura calling. I picked up the phone before calculating the 16-hour time difference.

"Hey Sis! What's up?" I said cheerfully.

Before she could respond my mind raced as I realized that it was middle of the night for her.

"Oh never mind. I'll call back. I thought you knew, "she mumbled in the same instant that I realized something must be horribly wrong because it was about 3:00 in the morning.

"What happened? What's wrong?" I said frantically as I heard her crying on the other end. Laura never cries.

"Just call Mom and Dad."

"No! Just tell me. Tell me what happened!" I was yelling at her now. I couldn't handle the suspense of not knowing. I dragged it out of her.

"It's Lindsey. She was running. . . and she collapsed. They did CPR but it was too late. She died."

It took a few seconds for me to realize the screaming I was hearing was coming from me.

I remember so many details about the next few days. One minute I was fine and the next minute I was crying so hard my contacts fell out. I couldn't eat and I couldn't sleep. I kept calling home for updates because I couldn't accept that everything was so final. I kept expecting someone to say Linz had been revived or something. I remember sitting on the airplane, surrounded by sleeping passengers. I just stared into space, unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes fresh tears would flow. I knew I had to get home. I knew things would get better if I could just be home. I remember seeing my parents at the airport and as I gave my mom an extra long hug I was surprised we didn't shed any tears. Apparently they were all dried up for once. And that's when I first realized we would make it through. That somewhere, deep inside us was the strength to do the impossible.

Today is Mother's Day. I don't feel like celebrating. Tomorrow is the 2-year anniversary of Lindsey's death. Friday is my mom's birthday. Saturday I leave Okinawa for the last time.

I will be glad when this week is over.

But I'm gonna dig down deep and find the strength inside me to make it through.

Just like my mom did two years ago.