A Better Place

"You're in a better place," I've heard a thousand times

And at least a thousand times, I've rejoiced for you

But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry

Is how long must I wait to be with you

I close my eyes, and I see your face

If home's where my heart is, then I'm out of place

Lord,
won't you give me strength to make it through somehow?

I've never been more homesick than now.

Help me Lord, 'cause I don't understand your ways

The reason why, I wonder if I'll ever know

But even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same

'Cause I'm still here, so far away from home.

In Christ, there are no goodbyes

In Christ, there is no end

So I'll hold onto Jesus, with all that I have

To see you again

This month has just been...indescribably awful for me and my family.  Nine days apart we have lost two precious aunts/sisters.  Nine days.  We only laid Jamie to rest on Wednesday, and now Saturday night we learned that we've lost Julie.  For those of you who are unaware, confused, or suddenly concerned, Jamie (Steadman) Baird and Julie Ann (Smith) Morton are not related.  Steadman loved ones, be calm.  The beloved Aunt Julie I lost is not my wonderful Aunt Julie (Steadman) Lyman.  So I am grateful at least that my own, not-so-little family is the only one struggling through the loss of both of these incredible women.  Each is a daughter of one of my mother's fathers, but thankfully each side of my mother's family only has to struggle through the loss of one beautiful spirit.  The 16 of us are not quite so fortunate, though my siblings' spouses and my brothers' children were never so blessed as to meet Julie, at least not in this life.

My Aunt Jamie suddenly and unexpectedly left this mortal life early September 11th.  I drew some warped measure of comfort from the knowledge that we lost her on a day when the entire nation felt or remembered similar pains.  She had suffered horrible health problems for the last decade or so, but somehow none of us thought she would go.  It was a total shock.  We'd had many scares, & I think we all just believed she was determined to live no matter how hard it was for her.  She was 46, and left behind Zachary (18), Courtney (16), Blake (28), his wife Brittany, and their little Bentley who adored his grandma beyond words.  At the time of Jamie's passing Brittany was pregnant and all of us, especially "Blue Grandma" Jamie, were so excited for this new baby.  The stress and pain of losing Jamie caused Brittany to miscarry, and we were all doubly heartbroken for their compounded suffering.  It seemed too much to bear, and we all struggled under the weight of the loss of such a bright light in our lives.  At her funeral her bishop cried as he told us all of how her incredible nursing skills saved the life of his son who was born dead 19 years ago.  She liked or enthusiastically, lovingly commented on virtually every facebook post, doting on her great-nieces and great-nephews from a state away.  It hurts indescribably to think that I've lost such an amazing, passionate cheerleader.

Cheerleader...hahaha.  How funny that I thought of that word to describe Aunt Jamie when Aunt Julie was a cheerleader for most of the time we were blessed to be regular pen pals.  Julie's 33rd birthday would have been this Tuesday, and she leaves behind her eternal companion Matt and five little children.  Abigail Faith turned 11 last month, and between her and little Grayson who had his first birthday in June are Bridger, Porter, & Tate.  When Julie was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma about two months ago everyone was shocked & devastated but rallied around her.  Though we knew it was stage 4, it seemed that somehow she would beat it.  Miracles kept happening.  She was upbeat & determined.  New treatments kept popping up specially geared towards her type of cancer and her unique genetics, treatments for which few people could qualify.  Stage 4 is what it is, but when things start falling into place you somehow begin to have hope, even against the odds.

Julie's unique relationship with my family, & our lack of a relationship with her father made for so many less memories than I wish we had, though I don't think it's ever possible to feel that you have enough of those when you lose someone you love.  She visited us a couple of times, and we did our best to make time to visit her when we would come down to Utah.  In between those times we were pen pals via snail mail and email, though I dearly loved our letters as hers were always vivacious, multi-colored and wonderful.  When her family moved to Nevada our contact fell to Facebook but like my Aunt Jamie, Julie was always ready with a quick "like" to remind us that though crazy busy with five children, she still loved us and stayed up to date.  She even liked our posts memorializing Jamie even though they never met, because the pain of people she loved was always her pain as well.

This feels like much too much for our family.  The loss of Jamie, Blake & Brittany's baby, & now Julie is overwhelming.  To put it mildly, we feel a bit crushed.  Jamie's viewing & funeral were bittersweet but beautiful experiences as we were able to reconnect & mourn together, united as a family.  We will not be so fortunate in mourning Julie.  We know that our names will not be listed among the survivors, & no one at the funeral is likely to say "I'm so sorry you lost your sister/aunt.  That must be so hard" because honestly, very few people will know who we are.  Her father will certainly not make sure that we are included & likely would not even approach us, though past experience says he would probably at least shake our hands if we approached him.  The likelihood that attending Julie's funeral would be scarring rather than healing means that while we will pray about this decision, hard, we likely will not be going.  That, in & of itself, is devastating.

I could go on forever with loving thoughts & memories about these women, but there is a secondary reason for the title of this post.  It is me.  When my dad had a heart attack on my brother's birthday and my brother's wife left him and my dad was hospitalized again five times in six weeks and my car was stolen and my cousin died (pretty sure there was even more I'm forgetting at the moment but you get the idea I'm sure), I.  LOST.  IT.  I have been an addict for virtually as long as I can remember, but that year I went CRAZY.  I spiraled lower than I had ever fathomed possible.  I did things that make me physically ill, & that until I went to rehab I wholeheartedly believed no one could know without condemning me to the lowest depths of hell.

This month is beginning to feel terrifyingly similar to that time in my life.  As a very close friend said, "It's created [uncertainty] about who is still around and for how long".  I need my support system.  Desperately.  I need the people I love.  The only thing that I fear more than losing them is letting them down, but obviously I'm trying to work through that since that fuels addiction better than anything I know.  But through it all, there's been a sense of.....peace?  This is my life now.  I am sober.  I will stay sober.  I will never give up on myself again.  I will never believe that one moment of escape is worth losing everything.  I have always feared that I would, that something could come that would rip this growth from my soul & I would be lost & alone again.  As deeply as my heart is shattered now, that has not happened.  I have felt (& still feel) devastated, & convinced that I will never stop crying.  But I have not felt one moment's temptation to return to that life.  I am here.  And I will stay.