Memorial Day, 2014

 Bike ride to Elle's grave for a picnic of fried chicken and gatorade.

Getty got ahold of the camera, so...

Mia loved our pose, "SO awkward!"

So we tried again. Rob's hair looks like he's about to be translated.

Getty requested the following series:

Shave ice for dessert 

 The Colossus, aka THE CHONCHO

So, Memorial Day was a fun family day, as was Easter before it, but these days now also carry solemn overtones.  

It's been over two years now since Elle's death, and I've been thinking about where I am now as opposed to where I was two years ago. 

I remember those first several months after Elle's death fluctuating between feeling numb and feeling horrified. That period of time was sacred in many ways. I remember feeling like Heavenly Father was very near, and I felt His compassion for me.   

In my prayers, I felt a strong assurance that I could ask for any help or compensation I needed, and the Lord would grant it. And He did. 

After a few months, the numbness began to wear off. For more than a year afterward, for most of every day I felt heartbroken. I had heard of people dying of "broken heart syndrome," and I wondered how my heart was still beating. And I remember wishing it would stop. 

I think at the end of that first year I realized that a much larger part of me than I would have guessed was wrapped up in my relationship with Elle. It's true that when she died, a part of me died. And I felt like it was the best part. It was the part of me that was unreserved in my affection with no fear of rejection. I was never a better mother than I was to her. I was older and more experienced. I took great satisfaction in her. I'd seen our other kids grow older too quickly, so I didn't take her for granted. I wasn't critical; I just stood in awe of her. I saw humor in her tantrums and personality in her feistiness. I was grateful just to be a part of her life, let alone play a major role. I was eager to help her and comfort her and readily sacrifice for her. Through her eyes, I was as good a person as I've ever been. That was the part of me that died. Our other kids knew my flaws.

Within six months of losing our 6th child, our 1st was moving overseas to college. I was not an integral part of her daily life anymore either, and I wouldn't be from then on. Ever since Elle was born, if only one of the six kids was out of the house or gone for the day, keeping track of the remaining five seemed like a breeze. A constant four felt quiet. Empty. Just not right.

At the same time, I remember life being chaotic that first year. We had only vestiges of a routine. So many visitors and friends in and out and activities as we all tried to fill the void. 

After more than 18 months, I made a decision to stop replaying the accident, the hospital stay, and her death over and over in my mind.

By the second year, I felt we had found a new normal, and life started to settle down. It felt like the first step of a long and sober journey called "the rest of my life." I was fatalistic and believed life was to be endured rather than enjoyed. When I read about Hezekiah in the Old Testament begging for his life to be prolonged, all I could think was "Why?"

I read Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning." 

Through that second year, though, I began to find longer intervals of relief. The depth of grief remained but the weight lifted. I felt my energy and my interest in life begin to spark.

Most recently, on a day in late May as I drove home alone from running errands, I prayed aloud, like I often do. 

I thought about each of our kids. Each one far exceeds any expectation I had for my future children.  

I talked to Heavenly Father about Rob and how proud I am of him. We have shared many trials and blessings. I am so happy to be where we are in our lives together. 

I thanked Heavenly Father for things like my bike. I can ride with Megan and talk about all that we have in common—kids, husbands, YW callings, family. 

Elle would have been graduating from Kindergarten and heading to 1st grade. Even though I made the transition two years early, I'm grateful to be catching up to my old life in that our kids would all be in full-time school by this Fall. 

Finally, I told Heavenly Father how grateful I am to have had Elle in my life. That I would never trade trials, because if Elle's life span was appointed (and I believe it was) I would choose to have her in my life for any length of time, no matter what the cost. 

Memorial Day, 2010

On this Memorial Day, 2014, I can see progress, and that gives me hope.