My Joshua's Mama
Four missed calls. I had four missed calls by the time I had cut up the peach and scooped the ice cream and returned to my perch on the sofa. Four missed calls. I checked the call log and smiled in smug satisfaction to myself to see that they were all from Josh. Even though we had been texting each other for the past couple of hours, he still needed to call me. It's so nice, I thought to myself as I pressed the call button, it's so nice to know that he misses me as much as I miss him. Enough that he called me four times. He answered his phone with a choked "Hi Baby" and immediately I knew something was wrong and every horrible thing that could ever happen to Josh flashed through my mind, sending my heart to my throat and my stomach to the floor. Oh God, no. "Kale just called," he sobbed, "My mom passed away." What? Of all the things that I've ever worried about, I never planned for this. Oh God.
I cannot even begin to interrupt this pain and sorrow that has engulfed Josh, this hurt that has been pressed onto my heart. This feeling of loss is so heavy it overwhelms me and threatens to drown me. It is my own grief but it is his grief too, and the heaviest part is the knowledge that I cannot take his grief from him, that I cannot ease the sorrow of his own heart. There is no band-aid, there is no ice-pack, there is no cast, there is no hug, there is no kiss, there is absolutely nothing that I can do to make him feel better. If ever there was a time when I understood what it means to be helpless, this is that time. When all I want to do is everything, I am forced to do nothing. Josh is in San Diego, all alone, sitting in the Costco parking lot, with his world upside down and I am sitting in the living room in Bremerton, a bowl of cut up peaches swimming in melted ice cream next to me, completely and utterly helpless. I immediately get on the computer, looking for the next flight from San Diego to Seattle. There are none. So helpless. I call every airline directly and they have nothing. No flights available. So helpless. I cry but I cannot cry too much because I don't want Josh to have to comfort me when I need to comfort him. So helpless. He calls me in-between calls to his brothers, his sisters, his father, and work. He cries and I am desperate to comfort him. So helpless.
I will never forgive myself for those four missed calls.
Josh and I met on April 5, 2009 at Sunday morning meeting in Waimea, Hawaii. After meeting, I also met his mother, Lisa. Of course, at the time, I didn't know that I was meeting the mother of the man I would soon be hoping to marry, otherwise I'm sure I would have had a lot more to say to her then a polite "nice to meet you". It wasn't until 3 years later, this last May, that I was able to return to the Big Island with Josh. This trip was so incredibly special for so many reason: time with the Campbell family, the nieces' hula drama, Mitch's graduation, getting to see Kale again, and finally getting to spend time with Josh's mom.
For so long I had been painting a picture of Josh's mom in my head, filling in the lines and colors from the array of stories and pictures that Josh and his siblings would share. But more then their words, I learned so much about Mom from them just being them, the amazing children that she had raised. I watched Josh's sisters, DoRe' and Keala, raising their own beautiful children and I could see Mom's love and care that had been instilled in them. I learned of Mom's kindness in the way her boys always strived to include everybody, making everyone always feel loved and welcomed. Kale's choice to go into nursing, to take care of people the way his mom was always taking care of everyone. How quick Noah is to smile, laugh, and giggle. How incredibly selfless Joshua is. These are all beautiful echos of their mother sounding out in her children. Every time I point out how selfless Josh is, anytime I try to compliment him on how he is such an amazing, thoughtful, kind person who is so willing to help anyone and everyone without hesitation, his response has always been to say, "I think I get that from my mom." He always has given her credit for so much and even though I hadn't gotten to know her directly, I had grown to love her because of my love and appreciation for Josh and his family.
During that week in May, as I got to spend some time with Mom, I got to know her better and came to love her all the more. I learned her contagious laugh, her knowing eyebrow raise, the gentle touch of her hand, her endless energy, and her kind embrace. When we said goodbye, it was in the parking lot in front of Starbucks where she was eating lunch before she headed back to the other side of the island where she was living. We hugged tightly and as I pulled away, she had tears in her eyes as she thanked me for loving her son. It was the greatest thing anyone has ever thanked me for and I was overwhelmed. The only thing that there was for me to say was the only thing that I have ever wanted to tell her, "Well... Thank YOU for raising such an amazing man."
I will forever hold that moment in my heart, that precious treasure, that gift from God. Because for as long as I have loved Josh, I have dreamt of our wedding day, but not of the dress or the cake. No, what I dreamt of was being able to thank his family for helping him to become the incredible man that he is. I practiced in my head, wrote in my heart, the words that I would say to his parents, to his mom, thanking her for raising the man of my dreams. Thanking her for all of his kindness, his compassion, his tenderness, his understanding, his love, his grace, his faith, his strength, everything. I wanted to thank her for all she did to help Joshua become everything that he is. And so, on that day, when I thanked Mom for raising such an amazing man, I almost regretted those words because now they wouldn't be as special when I said them to her on our wedding day. "I shouldn't have said that yet," I thought to myself foolishly. But now, now I feel like it's as if she knew, as if somehow I knew, or maybe it was God prompting us to say what was in our heart of hearts; whatever it was, I am so grateful that those were my last words to Mom. And even though she won't be at our wedding, (if we ever get married, God willing), I still got the chance to tell her how incredibly thankful I am for her and the son she raised, and that is the greatest comfort to me.
A couple of weeks after we had visited the Big Island, Josh and I received a letter from Mom. Since Josh was in San Diego, I read it to him over the phone, not knowing that this was the last communication we would ever have with his mom. I wrote her back, just making small talk and thanking her for the time we got to spend together. With the letter, I sent her one of the Instax photos I had taken of her and the boys from the walk that we all went on together. After learning of her death, I wasn't sure if I had mailed the letter in time for her to get it but when Josh and his brothers visited her home to collect her things, he found the picture next to her bed and a post card to me that she had started writing in response. Again, I cannot even put into words the comfort this gives me. I am grateful that my last words to her were those of thankfulness and love, so glad that she had that photograph of her with her sons to hold onto, so touched that she was taking the time to write me back. Josh was sweet enough to save the card and give it to me. I keep it in my Bible. Josh keeps the photo in his wallet. When he showed it to me again, he said, "I will never again complain when you want to take a picture." Oh how I wish that this was not a lesson he had to learn this way.
I got to be with Josh the week of his mom's service. And even though it was so nice to be able to be with Josh in the time of preparation, I was again overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness. As Josh and his siblings made arrangements for their mother's service, I felt like the in-laws and I are were orbiting around the edges, trying to stay out of the way while hoping to be as helpful as possible. But we could not do anything but the dishes, entertain the children, and wait for something to be asked of us. But somehow that just doesn't seem enough.
This entire experience has been so awe inspiring. The outpouring of love to Josh and his family has been one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed. The kindness and generosity of all their friends and extended family is just absolutely beautiful and to say that they have been wrapped in prayers of love and comfort would be a complete understatement. I hope each and every person who prayed for them, who thought of them, who extended a hand or a hug, who offered their condolences and their help, I hope they know how much that helped, comforted and meant to Josh and his family.
The service itself was absolutely perfect. It was simple and beautiful and embodied everything that I've come to know Mom as: filled with aloha, laughter, a few tears, and lots and lots of hugs. The hall where the service was held was one big room with high ceilings and lots of windows and doors to let in the lovely Waimea light. There was a low stage at the front of the room, the edge lined with large green leaves and flowers. In the very center was a small table covered in a white linen, where Mom's gorgeous wooden urn sat next to a portrait of her from high school and another more recent picture. There was a large orchid placed next to her, a maile leaf lei and a tuberose lei placed by the pictures. Then the area around the table was slowly filled with leis upon leis as family and friends arrived for the service, it was so lovely and smelled incredible. I wish I had the words to better describe it and do it justice, but my attention was so centered on Josh, that honestly, I didn't take in much else. I was there for him, my energy was focused on making sure he was okay. It wasn't that he needed me to be there for him... but I needed to be there for him.
A few hours after the service, was spreading of Mom's ashes. A catamaran was charted to take us out to sea at 5pm. Almost all of Mom's family that had been at the service and a few close friends were all able to go, myself included. It was a gorgeous evening, the ocean was calm, the sky was clear. On the way out, we were suddenly joined by a small pod of dolphins! First just a couple and then maybe six or seven! The swam directly in front of our boat, guiding us out to the ocean. Everybody was in complete awe. The captain was amazed as we all were, he said it was extremely rare to see dolphins at this time of day, they normally are headed out to deeper waters to feed! It was... magical. They were only with us for just a few minutes but it was enough I think, for everyone to feel like Mom was getting in one last laugh, on last kiss, one last sweet hug goodbye.
When it was time to spread the ashes, the boat stopped and lowered a large set of stairs off the back for us to use. Papa led everyone in singing "Aloha 'oe" and Josh carried Mom down into the water. We all grabbed a handful of flowers and tossed them into the water with a kiss as Josh began to pour out the ashes. "Goodbye Mama!" Keala called out, "We love you!" The ashes swirled into the water, mixing with the flowers, and were carried away on the current and out into the deep. It was absolutely one of the most poignant moments I've ever been apart of (thank you for letting me be a part of it) and I will cherish it for the rest of my life.
Josh comes home tomorrow. Home from home to home, home from Hawaii, home to here, to Washington. To me. I don't know what I'm going to do, what I should say, how I should act. I'm not really sure how all this is supposed to go, or how one is supposed to go on at all after their mother dies. All I know is that I will go on with Josh and do all I can to help him carry on. And with the grace of God, we all go on, carrying the ones we love with us, honoring their legacy as we continue to live and as we continue to love them. All ways.
*I apologize if this blog post is a little choppy, I've been writing it for the past three weeks. A little in Washington, a little in Hawaii, some then and some now. It's been part of my process in dealing with Mom's passing. I hope that it's okay.*
I cannot even begin to interrupt this pain and sorrow that has engulfed Josh, this hurt that has been pressed onto my heart. This feeling of loss is so heavy it overwhelms me and threatens to drown me. It is my own grief but it is his grief too, and the heaviest part is the knowledge that I cannot take his grief from him, that I cannot ease the sorrow of his own heart. There is no band-aid, there is no ice-pack, there is no cast, there is no hug, there is no kiss, there is absolutely nothing that I can do to make him feel better. If ever there was a time when I understood what it means to be helpless, this is that time. When all I want to do is everything, I am forced to do nothing. Josh is in San Diego, all alone, sitting in the Costco parking lot, with his world upside down and I am sitting in the living room in Bremerton, a bowl of cut up peaches swimming in melted ice cream next to me, completely and utterly helpless. I immediately get on the computer, looking for the next flight from San Diego to Seattle. There are none. So helpless. I call every airline directly and they have nothing. No flights available. So helpless. I cry but I cannot cry too much because I don't want Josh to have to comfort me when I need to comfort him. So helpless. He calls me in-between calls to his brothers, his sisters, his father, and work. He cries and I am desperate to comfort him. So helpless.
I will never forgive myself for those four missed calls.
Josh and I met on April 5, 2009 at Sunday morning meeting in Waimea, Hawaii. After meeting, I also met his mother, Lisa. Of course, at the time, I didn't know that I was meeting the mother of the man I would soon be hoping to marry, otherwise I'm sure I would have had a lot more to say to her then a polite "nice to meet you". It wasn't until 3 years later, this last May, that I was able to return to the Big Island with Josh. This trip was so incredibly special for so many reason: time with the Campbell family, the nieces' hula drama, Mitch's graduation, getting to see Kale again, and finally getting to spend time with Josh's mom.
For so long I had been painting a picture of Josh's mom in my head, filling in the lines and colors from the array of stories and pictures that Josh and his siblings would share. But more then their words, I learned so much about Mom from them just being them, the amazing children that she had raised. I watched Josh's sisters, DoRe' and Keala, raising their own beautiful children and I could see Mom's love and care that had been instilled in them. I learned of Mom's kindness in the way her boys always strived to include everybody, making everyone always feel loved and welcomed. Kale's choice to go into nursing, to take care of people the way his mom was always taking care of everyone. How quick Noah is to smile, laugh, and giggle. How incredibly selfless Joshua is. These are all beautiful echos of their mother sounding out in her children. Every time I point out how selfless Josh is, anytime I try to compliment him on how he is such an amazing, thoughtful, kind person who is so willing to help anyone and everyone without hesitation, his response has always been to say, "I think I get that from my mom." He always has given her credit for so much and even though I hadn't gotten to know her directly, I had grown to love her because of my love and appreciation for Josh and his family.
During that week in May, as I got to spend some time with Mom, I got to know her better and came to love her all the more. I learned her contagious laugh, her knowing eyebrow raise, the gentle touch of her hand, her endless energy, and her kind embrace. When we said goodbye, it was in the parking lot in front of Starbucks where she was eating lunch before she headed back to the other side of the island where she was living. We hugged tightly and as I pulled away, she had tears in her eyes as she thanked me for loving her son. It was the greatest thing anyone has ever thanked me for and I was overwhelmed. The only thing that there was for me to say was the only thing that I have ever wanted to tell her, "Well... Thank YOU for raising such an amazing man."
I will forever hold that moment in my heart, that precious treasure, that gift from God. Because for as long as I have loved Josh, I have dreamt of our wedding day, but not of the dress or the cake. No, what I dreamt of was being able to thank his family for helping him to become the incredible man that he is. I practiced in my head, wrote in my heart, the words that I would say to his parents, to his mom, thanking her for raising the man of my dreams. Thanking her for all of his kindness, his compassion, his tenderness, his understanding, his love, his grace, his faith, his strength, everything. I wanted to thank her for all she did to help Joshua become everything that he is. And so, on that day, when I thanked Mom for raising such an amazing man, I almost regretted those words because now they wouldn't be as special when I said them to her on our wedding day. "I shouldn't have said that yet," I thought to myself foolishly. But now, now I feel like it's as if she knew, as if somehow I knew, or maybe it was God prompting us to say what was in our heart of hearts; whatever it was, I am so grateful that those were my last words to Mom. And even though she won't be at our wedding, (if we ever get married, God willing), I still got the chance to tell her how incredibly thankful I am for her and the son she raised, and that is the greatest comfort to me.
This entire experience has been so awe inspiring. The outpouring of love to Josh and his family has been one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed. The kindness and generosity of all their friends and extended family is just absolutely beautiful and to say that they have been wrapped in prayers of love and comfort would be a complete understatement. I hope each and every person who prayed for them, who thought of them, who extended a hand or a hug, who offered their condolences and their help, I hope they know how much that helped, comforted and meant to Josh and his family.
The service itself was absolutely perfect. It was simple and beautiful and embodied everything that I've come to know Mom as: filled with aloha, laughter, a few tears, and lots and lots of hugs. The hall where the service was held was one big room with high ceilings and lots of windows and doors to let in the lovely Waimea light. There was a low stage at the front of the room, the edge lined with large green leaves and flowers. In the very center was a small table covered in a white linen, where Mom's gorgeous wooden urn sat next to a portrait of her from high school and another more recent picture. There was a large orchid placed next to her, a maile leaf lei and a tuberose lei placed by the pictures. Then the area around the table was slowly filled with leis upon leis as family and friends arrived for the service, it was so lovely and smelled incredible. I wish I had the words to better describe it and do it justice, but my attention was so centered on Josh, that honestly, I didn't take in much else. I was there for him, my energy was focused on making sure he was okay. It wasn't that he needed me to be there for him... but I needed to be there for him.
A few hours after the service, was spreading of Mom's ashes. A catamaran was charted to take us out to sea at 5pm. Almost all of Mom's family that had been at the service and a few close friends were all able to go, myself included. It was a gorgeous evening, the ocean was calm, the sky was clear. On the way out, we were suddenly joined by a small pod of dolphins! First just a couple and then maybe six or seven! The swam directly in front of our boat, guiding us out to the ocean. Everybody was in complete awe. The captain was amazed as we all were, he said it was extremely rare to see dolphins at this time of day, they normally are headed out to deeper waters to feed! It was... magical. They were only with us for just a few minutes but it was enough I think, for everyone to feel like Mom was getting in one last laugh, on last kiss, one last sweet hug goodbye.
When it was time to spread the ashes, the boat stopped and lowered a large set of stairs off the back for us to use. Papa led everyone in singing "Aloha 'oe" and Josh carried Mom down into the water. We all grabbed a handful of flowers and tossed them into the water with a kiss as Josh began to pour out the ashes. "Goodbye Mama!" Keala called out, "We love you!" The ashes swirled into the water, mixing with the flowers, and were carried away on the current and out into the deep. It was absolutely one of the most poignant moments I've ever been apart of (thank you for letting me be a part of it) and I will cherish it for the rest of my life.
Josh comes home tomorrow. Home from home to home, home from Hawaii, home to here, to Washington. To me. I don't know what I'm going to do, what I should say, how I should act. I'm not really sure how all this is supposed to go, or how one is supposed to go on at all after their mother dies. All I know is that I will go on with Josh and do all I can to help him carry on. And with the grace of God, we all go on, carrying the ones we love with us, honoring their legacy as we continue to live and as we continue to love them. All ways.
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| The back of the letter that Mom sent Josh and I. |
*I apologize if this blog post is a little choppy, I've been writing it for the past three weeks. A little in Washington, a little in Hawaii, some then and some now. It's been part of my process in dealing with Mom's passing. I hope that it's okay.*
Dear Bethany. Thank you for your post. I have been thinking of their family (and you) for the last weeks. We had the sudden loss of Jims brother a year and a half a go and words cannot describe the feeling of loss and of shock of losing someone suddenly. Prayers for you all.
ReplyDeleteBethany, I love that you write from your heart.
ReplyDeleteThat was beautifully written, Bethany. Even if you didn't feel like you were doing something significant to help, you were there standing by and supporting Josh and his family. Sometimes a presence speaks louder than words or actions. I'm sure your presence was very much felt and appreciated. Love & Hugs to you & Josh!
ReplyDelete