She’s not here.

​Living somewhere Aubrey has never lived is always so hard on my heart. 

Is she here at all? No. 

I know where she is and who she is with and that gives me peace. 

But, somehow—whether it’s sound thinking or not—knowing her little feet walked through, her sweet head laid down and her perfect laughter filled a space changes it. The memory of her is etched into that place forever. 

When our house burned down, it immediately hit me that I would never again live where she lived. 

All those places are gone from me. 

While new homes are fresh and beautiful and we are grateful for them, they do not hold our past lives that filled the walls. 

Can we make new memories in new spaces? Yes, of course. They’ll be magical, just like the living souls we are blessed to still have all around us. 

But she—my beloved first-born daughter—will never be here. 

So, I mourn that loss. I accept that truth. I breathe in the present and the new life (and place) God has provided us.  I wait for my eternity with Him…and her. 

Forever in that place where so much LOVE is waiting. Heaven. HOME. 

​One Last School Year

​

School is starting back. It happens every year. Everyone is running around trying to prepare. Clothes and supplies are bought and backpacks are loaded up. Teachers are met. Schedules are handed out. 

Seniors are painting their parking spaces. I don’t know when this became a thing, but they do it at our high school. It’s cute and fun and so very “last year of high school”. 

Senior parents are already exhausted and they’re all wondering how time flew by so fast. How did they get here? Their babies are in their final year of school. It’s wild. 

Then there are those of us who didn’t get there at all. Those whose children didn’t get to move on from grade-to-grade. My  daughter will always be a kindergartener. Forever six. Never a new school year. We will never get to experience her senior year. 

It’s bittersweet seeing all of your kids move on in life…her old classmates. Watching them grow and change so much through the years. But there is never a time we don’t think “what would Aub be like at this age?” Or “Would Aubrey be into that?”  

I have to selfishly admit I’m glad this school era is ending.  I won’t have to do the math, trying to figure out what grade my girl would be in this year. No more dances or sports or school-related things she’s not here for. I know the wondering and  “what if” parts of my grief will never end. But I have to believe the next “post-school” stage will be different. Hopefully a tiny bit easier on my heart. 

I am a parent of two boys—men—who are going through life, with families of their own. Grand babies!! A Mama of two 8-year-old girls who are not helping time slow down! And a mother who lost her oldest daughter far too early. 

Believe me. I’ve been through it. 

All I know to tell you is to enjoy all the stages in your lives. While I pray your kids will live long and full lives, I assure you it never slows down. They never stop growing up too fast. One minute they’re driving you crazy and eating all your food. The next, they’re married and having kids of their own. 

It’s hard. 

It’s beautiful. 

It’s life. 

One day, this will all be just a memory. 

Make it a good one. 

LOVE💜

Up in Flames

It’s been one month—today—since we stood and watched our house 

burn to the ground.

March 19 had been a typical Sunday. The girls just finished their popcorn and movie night, as was their Sunday night tradition. Before getting on their pajamas for bed, they were wrestling and playing around with AJ.

I can still hear them all laughing. 

I heard a sound outside and went to see what silly antics Tyler was up to, since he loves to play jokes like that. I saw a light through the back door. As I got closer, I realized it was moving. It wasn’t a light at all. It was fire and it was crawling quickly across the wall outside our back door. I screamed for AJ to come fast. 

All that happened after that is a blur. Children running away, the 911 call, my frantic husband running through the fire that was quickly devouring our home. 

I see visions of it every night when I try to go to sleep. They wake me up multiple times a night. 

Except this was an actual nightmare. 

Watching your house burn down is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The place you were brought to from the hospital. The home your life happened in. Four generations of my family lived their lives inside those brick walls. My parents, my siblings, all five of my children and my grandson LIVED life there. Every part of over 43 years! 

It was the only home my girls have ever known. The one true home and safe place my boys (and I) ever had.  

What happened to that house was nothing short of a death for all

of us. All we could do was watch, helplessly, as it left us. The angry, relentless  flames lit up the night sky. 

Our family and neighbors stood with us. The firefighters stayed and fought the flames through the night. We huddled together in shock and sadness. All any of us could do was thank God we were alive and together. 

I know without a shadow of a doubt God protected us that night. The fire started and spread right above us without any knowledge it was even there. Just minutes later things and things would have been totally different. 

So many little miracles. 

So. Much. God!

We are grateful for life. We are thankful for LOVE and family, hospitality and community. People are amazing. I have a lot more faith in humanity than I did before this. People I have never met, some I have always known and others we barely knew have showed up for us in ways we can never repay or thank properly. I’m in awe. 

Still, we mourn this incredible loss. All the good that has and will come doesn’t make all the hurt go away. It softens some of the blows it but it’s still there. 

The history of my family was in that house. Heirlooms. The bed my great grandparents slept in—which was also Aubrey’s—gone. All of her things I saved no longer exist.

(One of the few items we found in the rubble, Aubrey’s ballet shoes)

Antique furniture, rugs, china saved from generations. Every Christmas ornament, music box and stocking.  Hundreds of books my siblings and my children read (and were saving for their children). 

(Books in the playroom)

Home movies. Art. Pictures. Childrens’ Artwork. Every keepsake. Bibles. Toys. Lovies.  Clothing. (It probably seems silly but it takes years to build a wardrobe and can’t easily be replaced. Not to mention, things cost far more now than they ever did before.)

You never know how many little things you have or what they mean until they’re ripped away from you. 

I realize all of that is material. They were special, they were important and they were ours…

but still just things. 

Family can’t be bought. 

Life can’t be replaced. 

But neither can that home. 

There is a lot of humility required, being in this position. Pride has to take a back seat. We are depending on others and that’s not easy for us. We spent our lives building up what we had and now we are starting over from scratch. The list of things we have needed on a daily basis is long, although “need” is a loose term here. They’re just comforts really. We have generous family who has put a temporary roof over our head. We have clothes on our backs from donations (and because my crazy grown child and husband ran through heavy smoke and saved some of ours). 

God has provided so much, in so many ways, and I believe He will continue to provide for our family. 

I always considered myself a sympathetic person. I felt deeply for those in need. I gave where I could, when I could. After this I’ll never again see someone dealing with this kind of loss the same.  I pray this changes me forever so that I can give more. 

Do more. 

Be more. 

This is just another bump in the road on our path to Heaven. 

Through life’s tests, we are to be strengthened and draw closer to God. To lead others to Him. Without Him, we are nothing and have absolutely nothing. 

My prayer is that you take away the same things from our story that we have. 

Nothing  on earth is forever. 

Things ARE really just things. 

God is great. ALL the time. 

LOVE💜

It’s not fair

 It’s not fair

 

For days, I’ve had words swimming in my head. I wanted to write a blog post today. A post to Aubrey on what would’ve been her 17th birthday. 

It would’ve told her everything that is happening in our lives. Everything   we are experiencing here, without her. Everything I see happening with the kids her age she never got to fully grow up with. So many things. 

When someone you love dies, you’re left with a whole lot of “what ifs” and “if onlys”.  All the good news is followed by the all too familiar deep sigh. The hole that person filled remains empty. The void is huge and it just doesn’t go away. 

It all seems so unfair. 

That’s what I knew I was going to write about, falling asleep

last night. When I woke up this morning, none of that was still in my head. None of my whiny, sad thoughts woke up with me. The thing that stuck out to me was “it really isn’t fair.”

It’s not fair that God choose me (us) to have Aubrey. 

It’s not fair that I got to love her so very much in her life and will forever more. 

It’s not fair that while so many struggle to have one child, I got not only her but her four siblings. 

I never deserved her. Not for a minute. 

I never deserved Jesus, God’s forgiveness, salvation or an eternity in Heaven. 

And yet, God blessed me—and all of us—with that promise. 

All we have to do is accept Him and eternal life is ours. 

It wasn’t fair for Jesus, God’s only son, to hang on that cross because WE were sinners. But He did. And they’re waiting for us to live forever with them. 

It’s okay to be sad and feel all

the big feelings. We are only human. 

I will always miss my girl. I haven’t had one single day in 11 years I haven’t deeply missed her and had multiple hard moments. But that’s because I love her so much. The happiness from having Aubrey here will always outweigh the sadness of losing her. 

Our separation is not forever. Heaven is waiting on this Mama to be with her baby. 

At the end of the day, let’s all remember why we are here. 

LOVE BIG!! Share Jesus with others. Be a light. Live life as an example that helps make Heaven crowded. Live like Aubrey Laine lived. 

I want to see you all there. 

Happy Birthday, Buggy. Soon and very soon. 💜

3,652 Days

Today marks ten years since she has been gone.

Ten years. 

An entire decade. 

It feels like it’s been just a few months but also 100 years. 

There were some very dark times in the beginning where I didn’t think it was possible to survive another day without her. I honestly didn’t even want to. 

Trying to navigate in a world without Aubrey seemed impossible. Figuring out how to balance the feelings of joy her brothers’ lives brought and the cruel pain of her death. 

Every laugh was followed with a sigh. Every fun new life moment the boys had was a reminder of all we would never see her experience. 

It was a perpetual tug-of-war. 

It still is. 

As time moved along, the gaping hole

in my heart began to change. Instead of the raw, rough edges, it softened a bit. All the love and life and people that came along attached to that hole and slowly started to fill it in a little. 

It’s still there, but, it’s now a perfectly-formed, Aubrey shaped gap. Not quite as deep and not so dangerously jagged. Nothing can fill it fully, this side of Heaven. Simply put, it’s there—inside of me—because she isn’t here, beside me. 

I will never, ever not want Aub with me. But the more time that passes, the more I can tolerate her absence. The less foreign it becomes. 

I know without a doubt where she is now and who she is with. I know that she’ll be right there in Heaven whenever it’s my time to leave this world. 

That gives me much needed peace. 

Sometimes I wonder why we get so caught up on milestone years. 

1st, 10th, 25th Birthdays, anniversaries and angel-versaries. 

Some are important celebrations of a life still being lived. They can all be as much misery-inducing as they are accomplishments of survival.  I catch myself all the time saying “I can’t believe it’s been ____ years since ____ happened”. 

But really, what does it even matter?

Every moment of every day means as much as that major year marker will. They all count. It takes 365 days to make up one year (sometimes 366). 

You have to either trudge or glide through them all. 

Every weekend had its week. 

Every year had it’s months. 

They’re all just building blocks to a lifetime. 

My child has been gone for 3,652 days. By Gods grace alone, I have survived every single one of them. Some flew by and some dragged on feeling like there was no end in sight. But I woke up and fell asleep for every one of them. Many days, I failed miserable as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend. Luckily, the next day always came so I could aim to be better. 

One day, there will be no more tomorrows. 

No more chances. 

No more YOU.  

When someone comments about how  long you’ve been gone, make sure they want to add just how much you’ve been missed. 

LOVE💜

Sweet Sixteen

Today, my Aubrey Laine would have been Sixteen. It doesn’t seem possible that sixteen years have come and gone since that magical moment she was born. 

The way time both crawls and flies by is hard to comprehend. 

Long days and fast years, I guess. 

My boys are 22 and nearly 20. The girls are 6-1/2. While their lives have flown by, too, it feels different. I suppose when you see someone age, daily, it’s not really a surprise when they do. 

Not having Aub here changes the perspective. While she would have been here celebrating birthdays and milestones, she’s celebrating the perfection of eternity in Heaven. It’s hard to really know what that means and be completely heartbroken at the same time. 

If you would have asked me, in the beginning of this walk with grief, what today would be like, I wouldn’t have believed it. I couldn’t fathom surviving 10 birthdays without Aubrey. Most days were a struggle to get out of bed. While it hasn’t been easy, God has steadily provided me with peace and strength even bigger than the pain. While some moments threatened to kill me, they all passed. Sometimes, I think I’m just a shell of who I was before. In some ways, I’m better, because I can see things in a different light. In a lot of ways, I think I’m just permanently damaged. What I know for sure is it will all be okay. 

Bottom line, this is life. My grief, my pain, my problems are small in the big picture. When you think of this short life on earth vs an eternity in Heaven, it’s just a tiny moment. 

We all have pain and struggles. We all have joy and blessings bigger than we could ever deserve. As long as we look to God for everything, we will survive. When we are down, allow Him to carry the load. When we are up, don’t forget the one who got you there. Be kind to people. No one has a perfect life. Likewise, one is too far down for God to help them back up. 

Be the very best person you can be and when you can’t, let God in. The Bible tells us, He can do all things. Not just the big ones. ALL THINGS!! Let Him all the way in and lead others to Him. We have one job in life and that’s it. 

Make Heaven crowded (but I promise….there’s enough room.)

Aubrey did that. Her entire being was full of joy, LOVE, laughter and light. Everyone that saw her saw His light. She was beyond her years in so many ways and now I know why. God created her and miraculously gave her to me. Her life had a greater purpose and I am so grateful to have had a front row seat. 

I will never pretend I don’t hurt. Grief is with me everyday. I choose to not let that consume me. I try very hard to let that hurt serve its purpose and to step just beyond the pain. I know that the greatest joy lives there. 

Happy Sweet Sixteen, Buggy. I am grateful for every second I had you here. Soon and very soon, baby. 💜

50%

 Grief is the worst. It’s demanding, irritating, ruthless.  It knows no boundaries. It butts into your life. Interrupting perfectly wonderful moments. It steals happiness, holidays, personalities and lives. 

While most days get easier and major episodes of sorrow become farther between, grief never leaves. 

Sometimes it feels like it stalks you, just waiting for the moment to take you down. 

And it does. 

It comes hard. It hits you where it really hurts. Exposing the feelings you try so hard to push down and the parts you try in vain to cover up. It rips your deepest wounds right open, exposing them to what feels like pure acid. Reality is that acid. It comes in right when you feel like youre doing okay. It exposes the façade that you’ve figured out how to navigate this life. 

It’s a reminder that you’re still gone. 

I know that they say the more you loved, the more you grieve. I believe it. 

I try to take all my love for you and wrap it around the sadness and bitterness. I try to make it cover it up so that everything concerning you is good and feels happy and light. 

But I just miss you so much. I want you here with me so badly. I’m so sorry for that pain often taking away from the eternal happiness that your life brought and your memory will always be. 

How is this the 10th Christmas without you? Where did all this time go?

I know. 

It goes by both so fast and so slow it leaves me in a state of constant whiplash. I’m exhausted. 

The highs and lows of life just keep rolling. 

I’m glad they do though. Without those highs and joys and all the love, what would this life even be?

I’m homeschooling your sisters and we’ve been working on fractions. The other day I stared at a circle that was 50% shaded in. I realized that circle is just like my heart…both 1/2 empty and 1/2 full. I sometimes feel so lost without you here, that no matter how many wonderful blessings God sends my way, my “cup” seems to top off at 50%. That has to also mean, as strong and dark as things feel, it can’t drain me more than that 50%. 

I think that’s ok. After almost a decade, I have to stop trying so hard to fight it all. The grief waves just come. Some are stronger than others. Sometimes it seems like I’ll never get back to shore. Other days, I don’t realize my toes are even wet. I guess when I look at it like that, it’s all just a day at the beach. 

You always said “even a rainy day at the beach is better than no day at the beach”, right?

Every day that passes is one closer to Heaven. There’s a constant internal battle between wanting to rush there to you as fast as possible but, somehow, also not wanting to miss a thing here. 

Your sisters aren’t even close to being babies anymore. Your brothers will soon have babies of their own. Wow…you’ll have nieces and nephews. Aunt Aub. You would have been amazing as a big sister and aunt. 

I wish more than anything you were here for it all but I also know that you are right there in Heaven. My time to be with you is coming. 

By Gods grace, we are going to be okay here. 

Soon and very soon, Buggy Girl. 

Mama LOVES you.