Today marks 6 years since we said see you in Heaven to my sweet mama. Its really hard to believe that its been that long, and yet as I sit at my dinner table every night, I’m reminded of all of the life that has happened since Mama went to be with Jesus. There is a loud, wonderful, creative, loving, confident almost 6 year old who sits across the table. She talks as if she has a million and one word quota to meet each day. Her zeal for life and for learning (and teaching us all the things) is unmatched by anyone I’ve ever met. She is something incredibly special; a gift from Jesus at the very time we needed her most. Then, there is an almost one year old little boy, who's life is one that we fought hard to get and very much needed. Again, a gift from Jesus at just the time we needed it.
Those gifts, my children, don’t make missing my mom any easier, but they do offer daily reminders of God’s faithfulness in times of great sorrow. They have been proof that joy is abundant in Jesus, and that no amount of grief, or trials, or hardships can dampen the light coming from our ultimate (and only true) source of joy.
As I write this, I’m reminded that my son is 11 months old and that as much as I try to be on top of documenting those things… hes a second/third child and life is hectic. 11 months old. It feels like it is impossible for him to have been alive for that long (thanks to a global pandemic and a year’s worth of isolation from all of the community and support that makes life fun) and yet his place in this little tribe of ours is solidified and perfect, and there is nothing that could make his life feel like its been any less than forever in this family unit. He is the happiest little man you’ve ever met. He smiles almost 100% of the time. Even when he’s whining - because he refuses to talk - he has a grin on his face. Where I describe Audrey as zealous for life, I think Harry Beau is much more content to just take it all in. Though he has a mean curious streak and a slight death wish as he gets into and under all the things all the time.
Watching my kids grow up and knowing that my mama will never know them is the hardest part of facing this day each year. I tell them stories about her and if you’ve ever met Audrey, you know that her eyes were plucked straight out of my mom’s face and her heart and joy in life are directly from the Vicki Vincent genes. In many ways, my kids will know her. Not in the way that I had imagined and hoped, but they will know her. It makes me more protective of her memory, but I don’t regret that in the slightest. Her memory is worthy of protecting and my kids deserve to know who she was even though they can’t know who she is.
In just a couple short weeks, my living kiddos will celebrate their birthdays. 6 and 1. It will never get easier to not see my mama on that day. It will never be ok that my children can’t call up their Grammy and chat about their life and their friends and their school and whatever else crosses their mind. But it will always be ok because God will sustain. He has showered our little family with jewels that shine in even the darkest caves of grief, because they reflect even the tiniest fragments of light and cast glimmers of hope that are often times blinding. What an amazing God we have, that preordained all of this story - knowing the deep dark parts of it would need Audrey Nole and Harry Beau. Sometimes its healing to know that my mama gets to be Grammy in heaven; that George Mason is being loved on by the best of the best. Even when I don’t understand all that heaven means, I know that there is purpose in her death and his. And all the hard stuff that has become crucial parts of our story weren’t mistakes.
People often say that God won’t give you more than you can handle. But the reality is that He has given us so much more than we could have ever handled, on our own anyway. Yet, despite the heaviest weight of the loss of a mother and a son, our family still lives and still smiles and still believes in a God who is faithful. We have lived through the proof of his faithfulness. It isn’t just words on a page in our bibles, but actual lived experience. I wish that things looked different. I wish that instead of acknowledging 6 years without my mama today, that we were gearing up to celebrate 40 years of marriage for my parents on Sunday. But instead, we rest in the peace that death did not win in my mama’s story - Jesus defeated death so that she could be made new and whole on this day 6 years ago. That cancer wasn’t the defining aspect of her story, but her identity as an adopted daughter of the Holy God of the universe. It is my prayer, on this day and every other, that God would continue to show Himself to my kids and myself. That we would all see His wonderful persistence in holding onto His kids. That no matter what the day throws at us, we would remember that his mercies are new every morning.
The last picture that I have with my mama sits in a frame on my vanity. Her and I are laughing about something and my belly is about to burst with Audrey Nole. It hurts a whole hell of a lot to know that they were so close to being able to snuggle one another, but I will forever be thankful for the time that I got to spend with her in those last few months of my pregnancy and her life. I don’t know that I will ever truly love Utah, but I will always be grateful for the way in which God brought us here to be with her in those final months. The memories made will be cherished forever.
So to all the people out there who have lost of a mother, or father, or child… God loves you so incredibly deeply. Take solace in that. Rejoice in that. Cry in those big strong arms, and then laugh as the joy creeps in and slowly lightens the darkness. “But You, O Lord, are a shield for me, my glory, the One who lifts up my head. I cried to the Lord with my voice, and He heard me from His holy hill.” - Psalm 3:3-4
