The Day Between

 Today is March 8 - the day between.

On March 7, 2016, I got the unexpected phonecall that Dad was not responsive and couldn't be woken. And then the journey of grief, loss, and sudden, unexpected change. Having had 2 parents for 39 years felt normal and familiar, even if it wasn't the best relationship or easy. I had never not had both parents. And so began a new kind of life, and learning. I learned what death means in a new, real, heart-rending way. 

Fast forward to 2022, March 9. We got the call March 8 that Mom was unconscious and would likely not survive the night. We got in the car with a few kids and drove through the night to Arkansas to try to get there to say goodbye to her unconscious body. We wanted to be with Cathy in that lonely, fearful, painful time. Two hours before we would arrive, Mom breathed her last. It was around 7 in the morning when Cathy called to say Mom had been taken home to glory.

And so in every year since I have found March 8 to be the day between. The day between remembering Dad and remembering Mom. 

So here I am today, reflecting on what it was to have parents, and what it is to be without them. 

It makes me feel old now. I'm 48 and have had 3 years with no parents. I am the oldest generation of my family line now, along with my sister and brother. Last year we said goodbye to Sam's Mom in February, so we are both in a new season - parentless and our kids, grandparentless. 

I've often wished I could find a couple older than us by a few decades who want to step in to grandparent my younger kids. I feel particularly spoiled that I got to know all four of my grandparents even if only a little while I was growing up. I was 14 when Grandfather Crutchfield died. At Christmas we took time to go visit the gravesite where his shell was entrusted to the earth back in 1991. I remember Dad getting that phonecall late one night and the guttural sobs coming from inside their bedroom. I had never heard Dad cry like that. To lose a father, and be so far away in Hong Kong, must have struck him deeply with the grief that can only touch a son who loved and missed his Dad.

My Grandfather Crutchfield was a remarkable man. He had spent his entire career doing business in the citrus industry, as President of the Florida Citrus Commission. He had special dealings with governments and large entities, including Disney, providing much of their citrus. I was four or five when one of those deals went through and we got to go to Disney for free because he had special privileges. That was in 1981. 

So on this day between, I recall the gifts of heritage, and remember some of the struggles. More and more I need to make sense of what it was to be parented, to have grandparents, and now to continue to parent even when it is tiresome and stressful.

I'll be honest (what other way is there to be?!) - I had some very difficult experiences growing up. There were so many very disturbing and troubling times navigating becoming a self - a person in my own right. Mistakes were made. I suffered.

And now I parent and have memories that haunt and yearn to uncover memories that will heal. I find healing a surprising journey. I thought it would be impossible for my soul to heal. I suspended judgement as to weather it is possible to heal one's soul. And now I find there are times, moments, occasions, when a settled calm takes up residence in me where only angst, fear, bitterness and despair resided before. This opens the door to hope, and I pray the Lord will gently bring the gentle breeze of healing love to warm the darkest corners of my heart and breathe new life in me.

I have no particular point in writing this. Simply to reflect. To remember. To welcome, and to hope.

Thank you for sharing in my journey. I'm grateful to write, to ponder, to muse, and to share these thoughts with you.