I guess the wedding went fine, my daughter looked happy, but I just remember looking back at a dear friend's face as she walked up the aisle and seeing in his eyes what I was feeling and wished that I could show on my face. I had my pasted on smile and made it through til I got in the truck after cleaning up. ... then the weight of it all pressed down on my heart and I cried all the way home. I saw all the pretty things and ceremony and thought about how unimportant all of it is. All the trappings of tradition, how worldly and full of fluff it all is... and how I'm sure that my daughter thought that somehow it would all make her feel better. One day she'll wake up and realize that it didn't fix anything.... and she'll still be empty inside. Hopefully one day she'll realize what brings true happiness and what will truly fill that void inside... that only sitting at the feet of the Savior and humbling herself to really listen... and learning what he has to give to us, searching for the meaning in all of his teachings, realizing our dependence on him and how much he truly loves us.... knowing that only by accepting and living all the principles he's taught can we find true happiness and understand what love really is.

What I'm feeling now is a whole and totally new type of grief that feels as though it is pressing against every part of my skin. I feel as if the air itself is heavy... I've felt better after funerals.... I was told once that grief hollows out the heart to make room for more love.... if that is the case, I guess there's not much room for my lungs in there now, and maybe that would explain why my heart hurts so much. I know some of you intimately know this feeling and that in time it will find it's place in my heart and mind and settle in beside my grief for Mark, and beside the grief for my son that tried to heal a horrid childhood with drugs, and a daughter in law that has ruined her life and relationships with drugs, and beside my grief for another son, a good son that chose not to serve a mission, beside my wishes that I could still pick up the phone and talk with my parents.... Some day it will fade to a dull ache that will be tolerable... but for now it rises and falls at unexpected moments and cascades out of my eyes at inconvenient times... so, please don't be nice or ask me how I am.... but instead tell me to "buck up" and keep moving, so I can go on to the next day and the next.... until, in time, through the love of the Savior, I can laugh again.... and really mean it.

I love you with all my heart and truly appreciate your friendship and constant support. You know who you are...

Thank you for being there and being able to listen with your heart.

- Linda

Random Mark memories

I remember one day leaving work early to take Sarah to the doctor for an earache and calling Mark from the hallway outside the doctor's office to let him know that Sarah needed an antibiotic, and that by the time I got it from the pharmacy, I wouldn't get home in time to see him. He was taking Nick and Jay to a "father & son campout" with the scout troop at church. They were leaving at a certain time to meet the rest of the troop at the church. I remember feeling really bummed out saying goodbye on the phone. That would be the first night we had spent apart from one another since we had been married... and I wouldn't even get the chance to kiss him goodbye.

Kissing hello and goodbye had become a special "thing" with us. Even when we would run into one another in the hallway at church, he would always kiss me goodbye before he left me to go do the next thing. If we were in a class at church together and he got called out to do something, he'd always make a point of kissing me goodbye. He liked kissing. Just little quick affectionate pecks. But those pecks made a girl feel like she was the most important thing in the world to him... and I think that maybe I was.

After waiting for the prescription and driving home to an empty condo, Sarah (probably about 3 years old) and I made out way down the dim stairwell to our front door. There, taped to the front door was a piece of paper with the words "open slowly" written on it in Mark's printing. Grinning, I opened the door slowly, half expecting something to fall on us or jump out at us. Nothing. Everything appeared to be perfectly normal. I fed Sarah, gave her the medicine, and put her to bed. Then, as I headed to my bedroom to get ready for bed, I noticed another paper like the one on the front door, only on my bedroom door. It said, "Open Slower". Again, grinning, I opened the door ever so slowly and carefully, looking for something to fall or jump out. Still, nothing. My bedroom looked the way I had left it that morning. Then, as I finally gave up and headed for the bathroom, I discovered another sign on the bathroom door. This one said, "Open slowest". Ah, I thought, this must be where Mark has left a gag for me. So, ever so carefully, a centimeter at a time, I pulled the door open with fingertips, ready to jump away at the first sign of movement.... and, nothing fell, nothing jumped, nothing moved. But, one look inside the bathroom explained it all... our giant wall sized mirror over the bathroom sink was covered with pieces of paper. Each one taped like before, but each one had a different message in Mark's handwriting. "I love you!", "I already miss you..", "I wish I were here.", "I wish you were with me", "You're too far away", and on and on. The one in the center of them all said, "Lift here to see what I miss most!". As I lifted the paper, behind it I found my own reflection. I knew I was loved. I still know that I'm loved. And, I still have all those pieces of paper..... every one. :)

Mark Memories...

So many memories.... where to start?... Perhaps it's best to start at the beginning:
Quite some time ago, I found myself in life living in a 3 bedroom apartment in Sandy Springs with 3 boys, one female toddler, a job as a secretary with Dillard Paper and a paycheck that didn't quite cover all the bills. I was driving an old wreck of a Toyota that looked as though it would give up and die in the middle of the road just any moment. There was this sweet older man in the warehouse that would bring his tools and his ducktape and patch it back together on a regular basis and refused to let me pay him a dime. He would shake his head and tell me that the Lord provides for women trying to raise their children alone. He told me to worry about taking care of "them babies" and the Lord would take care of me. Then he'd give ol' Betsy a pat and amble off toward the warehouse smiling all the way. Somehow that car kept together until after I married Mark before it finally gave up the ghost and died in a Krystal parking lot.

I remember looking at my check each week, wondering how I'd pay my mortgage, car insurance, gas, food, lights, etc. out of such a tiny bit. Time after time I would pray about the things that we needed and they would miraculously come into our lives. Sometimes thru a friend or neighbor, but sometimes thru complete strangers. I remember feeling closer to my Heavenly Father during that time than any other time of my life. Everytime I would begin to feel frightened or lonely, I could talk to Him and feel his arms around me, comforting and loving me until I felt strong again.
My oldest, Andy, had gone to live with his Dad (a long story for another time) and Jay (about 12) and Nick (about 9) had to be latchkey kids and "keep" themselves until I got off work (around 5pm), picked up Sarah (2) and drove thru traffic to get home. Some of the things they got into..... oh golly, I could tell you stories! .... (* Just a word to the wise: When your kids get grown, don't ever get them started by asking "by the way, what REALLY happened that time when..." be cause, once they get started, you'll get story after story. All the things that they did that you had no idea that happened.... and you'll wish you were blissfully ignorant again!! WAY more than you EVER wanted to know!!!!) Arrrrrrgggghhhh! Some things I would've been happier NOT knowing! lol .....

Once upon a time....

Yeah, I know. Lame title for a blog, but just couldn't resist. So, here goes..... Once upon a time there was this little girl who loved words. She loved to say words, lots of words, long words, short words, words with pictures, words with music, all types of words. She loved to read words, and sing words, and she especially liked to write words. Words were pictures, words were stories, words were colors and feelings and .... and ..... everything!!! So, the little girl spoke LOTS and lots of words. She read LOTS and LOTS of words. She sang lots and lots of words! And then, she wrote lots and lots and LOTS of words!!!

But, then the little girl grew up and she had less time to play with her words. .... but she found ways to slip them into her life. She whispered them to her babies, she sang them to her toddlers, tucked them into her children's beds at night, she yelled them at her teenagers, left trails of them for her adult children to find and use if they might, and whispered them with kisses into her grandbabies necks. And, on occaision, offered them ever so carefully to an adult child, who with children of their own, would ask for those words, listen, and cherish them as never before.

Now, the little girl was no longer a girl, but a mother and grandmother, and her words had been given away all her life. She thought for a time that perhaps she had used them all up, but then one day, a friend introduced her to this newfangled thingy called a blog..... and somehow, I get this feeling that all those words that were tucked, and sung, and whispered, and yelled, and offered had managed to sneak back inside her head! And they are all hopping around in there, a little older, a little lighter, and just waiting for the opportunity to find a spot on this computer screen to linger and perhaps make someone think, or laugh, or just make someone want to play with some words of their own.....