Last weekend I scanned this photo and was struck once again by the look on your face. You will probably recognize it immediately. It was taken at your Mother's funeral. You were twenty-seven or twenty-eight but you look so much younger. Although you were taller than most women you look so small beside Danny. I'll never forget how you reacted when you found out your Mother was gone. You were on the phone in your bedroom crying. Seeing you cry made Joshie and I cry too. Even as you grieved you comforted us and told us you were alright but you weren't alright. When someone you love dies, it feels like a part of you dies with them. A part impossible to resurrect. I know a part of you died along with your Mother. I know, because a part of me died with you.
Looking at you in this photo is like looking in a mirror. My face has adopted the same drawn, tired expression that results from the interal feelings you experience.
Often I feel as though my soul was sucked, without warning, into a dark vacuum. Instead of being an open space void of any matter, this vacuum is populated by a forest of thorns. Remember the scene in Sleeping Beauty where Prince Phillip is trying to cut his way through a forest of thorn bushes to the castle? That's the best imagery I can think of. Although it's possible to emerge from the vacuum, one must carefully manuever through the thorn bushes. This is a tedious process that requires great care. One must be on their guard at all times to prevent additional hurt and pain. One never knows how long the journey will take because starting at the beginning its impossible to see the end. I am not sure if my analogy makes sense but that's exactly how I feel and I think you probably felt it too. I am only sorry I was not able to offer you the comfort you needed then. The comfort that my friends have offered me.
I think the reason I am sharing these thoughts with you today is due to an experience I had this morning at work. A man approached the desk and smiling said something like, "Amber, it's good to have you back." Assuming he knew the reason for my absence I thanked him. Then, to my shock, he asked, "How is your mother doing?" Instead of asking me a simple question, it seemed like he had delivered a swift kick to my stomach. I just looked at him dumbfounded until I quietly replied, "My mother passed away. That is why I was gone for so long." He apologized and then went on and on about how we were best friends and yada-yada. All I could say was, "I don't want to talk about it." I know he wasn't to blame but, in that moment, it was all I could do to contain myself. Since your passing I have experienced these random flashes of intense anger and frustration. Everyone says, thank goodness, this is normal but I still feel guilty anyway.
When others stole moments to offer their condolences throughout the day I couldn't fight the tears. I don't even know why I try. It's useless. I don't want to be angry Mom. I just want to feel peace. Please help me not to be angry or bitter about loosing you.
After work Joshie called to say they were going to Rupp Arena tonight to watch UK play Georgia. I'd like to think you would be cheering for Georgia, especially to annoy Dad.

I am not sure where to begin. I guess the first thing I want to say is I love you. I hope you know that. I love you and miss you. Since you passed away nothing has been the same. I have experienced sadness and pain unlike anything I ever imagined. During the past year I have read several books about loss and grief and I thought I understood but I was wrong. My soul feels like it has been rent, pulled apart to be strewn about; vulnerable to the entire world. Shawna describes it as being hit by a bus. Although you are lying face down on the pavement and in need of help, everyone around you passes and acts as though nothing has happened. In other words, although my life has stopped the rest of the world continues, taking little notice, if any, of what happened. Sometimes this realization deepens the sorrow I feel because there are so many who should have known you but didn't. The fact that I did, and that you were my Mother, causes me to wonder. Were you perfect? No. Did you struggle? Yes. You were human but you were also one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.

I have been scanning every picture we have of you since the funeral and as I look at your photos I can't help but wonder at your beauty. You had perfect features. A perfect nose, perfect teeth, perfect hair and eyes. I wish I resembled you more. During lunch at Bananas, Lauren said, "You are such a bitch. You are just like your Mom. You have perfect hair." I love her. She has been so good for Josh and your passing has only strengthened their marriage because Lauren knows exactly what Josh is experiencing. She can anticipate his needs in ways other women would not be capable of. She also spoke at your funeral. She talked about how much you loved Patricia Cornwell and how much we would miss playing games with you; especially Balderdash.

Joshie also spoke. Mom, you would have been so proud. He was terrific. He shared the story about the He-Man cake you bought him for his birthday. I had forgotten all about it but he remembered.

Joshie also selected the music for your viewing and funeral service. You should see the playlist. Not your typical music but music we believe you would enjoy. I added some of your favorites, "Fly Me to the Moon," "Spirit in the Sky," and "Moon River" before he completed the list.I forgot "Walk On," though. Sorry. I hope, somehow, you were able to hear it too. I know you would have liked that.

After Patriarch Marchant spoke about the Plan of Salvation, we asked him to conduct, Dad spoke. He was so good. I think you would have been impressed. I wasn't sure how Dad would take it but he's taking it pretty hard. He loved you much more, I believe, than any of us ever realized. He finished the poem he promised to write you. It's five pages long. He's mailing it to me. I will post it later, with his permission, of course.

Although I flew home on Thursday and had two days to prepare something, I couldn't prepare anything. I just couldn't put anything down on paper. I selected photos for your slideshow, I picked out flower arrangements, I dressed you and did your makeup and hair. Well... actually Stephanie and Kristi initially dressed you and then I helped a bit later. I think you would have loved your outfit. We got your a Pendleton skirt in the Stewart tartan, white hose, and an off-white caul-neck sweater. I decided to leave your CTR ring on your finger. I already have a matching one so it doesn't matter. Ralph said I might want it for my little girl but I told him I didn't have one and there were many other things I could pass on, should I have children one day. It's your ring and you should keep it, especially if you were wearing it when you passed.

Kelly helped me do your makeup and hair. She flew in from Utah at a moment's notice, along with Desiree. I couldn't believe Stephanie, Kelly and Desiree were able to come. It was so nice having all my close friends near me. Kate and Rae drove down from Virginia and all five of us girls, Steph, Rae, Kate, Kelly and I stayed at the Bishop's house. I used your favorite Cameo Shrimp for your lips and I curled your hair in loose ringlets. It looked really good. Stephanie painted your fingernails bright pink, the same color we'd use for our toes in the summertime.

Although I had a difficult time focusing on things I did manage to speak during the service. I read the Primary hymn, "Mother, I Love You," and shared the story about the Stripling Warriors. I spoke about your testimony and how you did not doubt. I am so grateful for all the time we spent together; long discussions on our evening walks which continued on the porch swing where we sat in our nightgowns watching the cars pass and the fireflies flash. The frogs would croak in the nearby pond while inside we could hear Joshie playing music or video games. We talked about everything. Sometimes the conversations were casual, sometimes they ended in anger or tears. However, in retrospect I am so thankful for your patience and devotion. The attention you paid me even when you were tired or had better things to do. I will miss those long, summer evenings and our conversations. I will miss you.

I will also miss coming home and having you still tuck me in. I loved that. I loved how you would sit on the edge of my bed and we would talk briefly before you would walk across the hall to your room, leaving my door cracked just a bit. I miss screaming your name, "MOM," down the hall while you were tucking Joshie just to annoy you. I also loved how you would find the cat and bring her into my room so she would sleep with me. It scares me to think about my future children. If they are anything like I was I am not sure I can make it but one thing is for sure. Since you passed my desires to be a wife and mother have become absolute. I want a family more than anything. I want to share all the positive things I learned from you with my children. I want them to know how wonderful their Grandma Kidd was. I want them to know the best things about you and to live good lives because you tried to teach Joshie and I to do so. I am not sure if or when I will have a family but Linda says when Allison was born she saw Roger in her granddaughter. I hope I feel the same way. I hope there will be traces of you in my children and if so, I can't wait to meet them. I believe that will bring me more comfort than I can imagine now.

Today Jacqueline said something I found interesting and Shawna mentioned the same thing. They both said that you will be able to help me. That you will lead me to my future husband. That you will prepare my children. I sincerely hope so but please, please be generous with the husband. You always teased that I would marry the biggest dork ever. You may be right but please lead me to a dork I am attracted to and can live with. Someone who will be devoted, honest and loving. As for preparing my children...please don't give away all your secrets.

I find it ironic that you always remarked I was fortunate because I would have a mother who could be there on my wedding day and help me with babies. You were wrong, Mom. I won't have that but I have been blessed with women in my life who have offered their help when I need it. In a way, they will be my surrogate mothers to help in ways you won't be capable of but I hope and trust you will be near and will help when possible. I can't wait until the day I feel you near me. People say it takes time and I understand that. I know now that I have to trust you are with Heavenly Father and you are safe. The first time I was alone after the funeral for more than ten minutes I offered a prayer asking God to take care of you. A distinct thought came into my mind at that time. Kristi told me I had to write it down so I could remember it later. The thought was, "She was my daughter long before she was your mother." Of course, my tears fell even harder. It was something I already knew but my pain is still so raw I have a hard time fighting the tears.

In the meantime I have been listening to a lot of Anne Murray. I heard "Band of Gold" on Saturday and started car dancing like we used to do whenever we would hear it on the radio. I was brave until half-way through and then I broke down. I couldn't help myself. I miss you and I hate that I will never belt the lyrics with you again. I hope you can feel that.

I am not sure how often I will write but I have so much to tell you. Linda says she writes Roger first thing every morning. I am not sure I can do that but I will do my best to write often. I love you Mom. I love you, I love you, I do and I can't wait to see you again. To have your arms thrown around me and listen to you squeal with excitement while you sway me back and forth. I can't wait for you to call me Sissy again. I long to understand so many things about you and how you died. Dad says there are some things we may never know. I think he may be right. And it really doesn't matter. Like Sister Orton says the only thing that matters is living a righteous life so we can be with our families forever. So I am going to do my best. I'm not perfect and I will stumble along the way, but I will be better than I was before. I must. The promise of seeing you again, whole and complete is reward enough.

Goodnight Mom. It's past my bedtime but I love you and will write again soon. If you are able please be near me and Joshie and Dad. We need you.

Love-
Sissy

I was watching Brothers & Sisters tonight. For those of you who haven't seen that show, I find it hilarious. There was, of course, an affair between two of the characters (not related, it should be noted, after all this isn't HBO). The girl involved was single and, as she was leaving her job and the man in question behind, the older female character offered the advice, "Use this chance to find something all your own."

I thought it was sound advice. When it comes to men, we need to take the time to define our own relationships with them, make sure that there is a space for us and that the shape of the space fits the shape of our souls.

Trying to fit into a mold will never work. And sometimes we explore the shape of the hole and find that we'd mostly fit, that it's just about right. But, like Goldilocks, we need to move down the line until it's just right.

And that's all I have to say about that.

This weekend I was reminded of the wonderful power of family connections. As I'm sure most of you know by now, Amber's Mom passed away. She may write a post on that later, she may not. I spent, as did Rae, Kate and Kelly, the weekend with her in Kentucky. While it was not the best reason for a trip, it was the perfect time for one. I needed my friends and, for that moment, they needed me.

Sunday morning brought a trip to Dad's house for breakfast. Loving chatter, biscuits, gravy, bacon and laughter--the best menu one can have in a situation like that. I sat in the rocker beside the kitchen for a bit when we got there just listening. Never have I been to a family event like this where I don't end up loving the family I'm with and appreciating my own. Amber has talked to me about her family for ages, done impressions of their accents (which are spot on!) and told me stories relating some of their quirks. It was amazing to see those in action!

Later in the day we had a quiet church meeting with just us girls. I haven't ever been to a better sacrament. When we were there Kate said (and sorry if I misquote you!), "It's always surprising to me that so much love can come from death."

When I looked around the room at the strong, beautiful women who I'm lucky to call friends, then later at the amazing children Janice has left as a legacy talking to and comforting each other, at the family and church members who opened their homes and ovens and even to a random salesperson at a jewelry counter I'm simply amazed at the love in the world. So often our challenges in life involve feeling isolate or unimportant. Frequently we fall into the trap of thinking our life has one meaning. We're just wrong.

Despite what you may be able to see now, you're an important thread in the web of life. People would notice if you were gone, they would mourn.

Amber and I slept in the same bed all weekend. We talked and cried and laughed wondering all the while about the big picture, why this happened, what it really all means. I wish I had more answers. The objective, even with it's harsh edges, can be key to understanding any experience and in this case the objective is hard to find outside the final truth of death. Like the love that Kate mentioned, there's eternal life as well. Not only just for Janice's soul but here on Earth. I look at her daughters and son thinking of all the beautiful lessons she taught them, how her devoted hands formed their lives and I know she'll never be really gone. It's appropriate that her legacy will be passed through the spoken stories of her children to their children and onward. As long as we remember them and hold them near I don't think we ever really "lose" one we love. Just the ability to hug them as readily.

Luckily, we have friends. And as I remembered this weekend, when you have friends there is never a shortage of proxy hugs available.

So, tonight I've decided that two videos will always fit my relationships. Here they are for you to enjoy and analyze.

I have a paper I've been writing for month. Or that I've been the opposite of writing for months. But every time I sit down to write it occurs to me that I have to make a bibliography. So I stand up again so go watch re-runs of Shark.

Why, oh why, is this necessary?

Please, my educated friends, let's hear if there are any good arguments for inane citations.