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I overheard my daughter tell someone that every decision she and her family make is because of and centered around Kitty Rose and her death. At the time, I thought that was a bit exaggerated … Really? Every decision? Ever since, I have been mulling over Mandy’s statement and its meaning, not only for her and her family, but also for me personally and for the extended family. Just yesterday, I had that ‘aha’ moment – I think I finally understand.
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 Today marks the sixth anniversary of the accident that caused Kitty's death. It has been at the forefront of my thoughts since the start of the new year. This is the first time that the days of the week coincide with that dreadful week six years ago. At this time, on Friday, January 18, 2013, I was on my way to the hospital in Waconia. Beginning right now and over the next week, I will recall and relive every moment with no less pain.
November: the month we traditionally remember our deceased loved ones. Yes, September and October raced past me more quickly than in years past and we're on the brink of celebrating Thanksgiving. I have not visited my blog page since mid-August, but I certainly have not forgotten nor needed to be reminded of my precious granddaughter. Quite the opposite - my little Kitty has been on my mind and part of my daily life more than ever! As we approach the holiday and remember our beloved dead, I have much for which to be thankful.
Recently, I was asked to participate in a special grief session designed specifically for grandparents. The invitation came verbally several months ago in a very vague 'would you be willing to ...' manner. Until about one week before the session, I didn't have a clear grasp on either my role or what to expect. When I learned that I was to 'provide a nugget … something newly bereaved grandparents could take away to give them ideas for coping', I dug deep.
 The beauty in growth: a seed is planted and we patiently wait for it to sprout, for the stem to grow tall, buds to emerge and - eventually - there are colorful, fragrant blooms. We are proud of our planting and take delight in the flowers. They make us happy and give us comfort.
 At church last week, we sang Psalm 139, verse 14: 'I am Wonderfully Made'. Our pastor followed up with a homily that delved into the message of the psalm, giving me not just the typical Sunday explanation of the readings, but also reassuring validation of what Kitty's death means to me and to my family.
Within a month after Kitty died, I understood how incredibly special this baby was - that she came into our family with the purpose of mending us. It only took nine months for her to fulfill her life's mission, God's plan for her. The Dasher had a sleepover at grandma and papa's house this past weekend, but I didn't realize during the planning that Kitty would be part of the fun, too!
This past weekend was a Kitty Rose weekend for our family: time spent in memory of her and conscious awareness that she is always in our hearts.
Saturday morning, we joined with 47 other bereaved families for the Children's Hospitals of Minnesota annual remembrance service. The format of the event never changes, but other aspects are always different: musical selections, readings, token gifts presented to both children and parents. This year, I realized that each individual section of the program is led by a different staff member from either the social work or bereavement staff. No wonder this service is so well done and heartfelt! I was so tired yesterday ... so very tired. But I didn't know why.
This morning I realized it's because that doggone grief returned with a vengeance. A story was published in the Minneapolis Star Tribune on Sunday about Mandy, son-in-law, my grandchildren, their story of breaking through the ice on Lake Minnetonka and their life together five years after the accident. It was the front page story. No wonder I'm exhausted. I just relived the past five years in one weekend. The gospel story at church this past weekend reminded me of all of the 'if onlys' and 'what ifs' that surrounded the death of my granddaughter. 'What if we'd just kept the girls for a sleepover that night' ... 'if only they had eaten dinner at home' ... 'what if the car seat latch wasn't defective' ... 'if only son-in-law had gotten her out of the car right away ... 'what if she had lived?
'If only God had been there.' |
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