A year Without her

Catherine Bazin Oliver left me without warning Wednesday morning July 11, 2018, Mother left this life. The circumstances are troubling, but the separation is poignantly distracting still. I wrote an article after her death. In part, it reads:

​I did not know that death was possible until Mother died July 11, 2018, a Wednesday morning between 10 am and 10:30 am. I know, it sounds so foolish to read that. My Uncle Charles and cousin Charlton died when I was 12. My grandmother died when I was 13. My Cousin JL died when I was 14. My good friend Bebe died when I was 18. The list goes on of loved ones I have lost giving me proof that lives exist and then extinguish. Death has a way of giving a different experience each time it happens to us, to me.
Mother was like God. She has always existed. With her life, I knew the continuity of life even if all other people around me died. It sounds absurd to think about when so many people lose their mothers. It was not a rational belief. Mother is life until she was not. How could life continue when Mother is not actively in it--physically experiencing it somewhere? She does not have to be near me. Knowing that I could call her or see her was enough for me to hope for another tomorrow.
I spent most of my adult life trying to get away from her. I wanted so much to have a separation from her. Now, there is no physical way to contact her anymore. The separation is utterly guaranteed. My life is not taken for granted anymore. My wife can die! She is a mother also. Life is truly precious.
I no longer doubt that I can die. I know it is an inevitability and not just a possibility.

To read the complete Article: The Day Mother Died

I want to be sad here in the present, a yearl later. I cannot keep that feeling. She is in heaven. I miss here dearly. I miss her smile. I miss her touch. I miss her laugh and her singing. Truthfully, I missed those things before she died because she suffered from vascular dementia. God spared us from the gradual complete disappearance of all that made her, her. As she lived, I saw her mourn her personality leave a bit at a time. During her lucid times she recalled some of her demented behavior apologizing in sorrow. Her choices hurt so many because none of us knew she suffered from dementia for years. 

In God's grace, her final days were spent in full knowledge of her health concerns and all could be forgiven. The last conversation that we had was before we both retired for bed. She said goodnight and I said it to her. That was our mortal goodbye.

Moroni Perspective
Following a tremendous battle with a nation of his foes, Moroni recorded, "My father also was killed by them, and I even remain alone to write the sad tale of the destruction of my people. But behold, they are gone, and I fulfil the commandment of my father. And whether they will slay me, I know not."

Mother told me on many occasion to take care of my family a do the right thing by them. It encouraged me during dark time to have her support, from which I never or will ever stray.

"Therefore," Moroni etched in gold ladened plates, "I will write and hide up the records in the earth; and whither I go it mattereth not. Behold, my father hath made this record, and he hath written the intent thereof. And behold, I would write it also if I had room upon the plates, but I have not; and ore I have none, for I am alone. My father hath been slain in battle, and all my kinsfolk, and I have not friends nor whither to go; and how long the Lord will suffer that I may live I know not." (Mormon 8:3-5)

In the midst of his grief, Moroni kept the faith of his father. He lost all! Like him, I could keep the faith and continue in the face of grief. Moroni saw me, and included his experiences with grief that I might also know that life can continue following the uproarious billowing emotional circumstances. What has Moroni seen of you?

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