Last weekend, I was blessed enough to be able to go on a camping trip with a college group that I am a part of (through my church). I can't begin to tell you enough how much the church I go to has impacted my life. It's incredible. The people that are a part of the college group (not just the ones that were there, but the ones that weren't there, but show up every Thursday for college group) are amazing people and friends.
During the weekend there, I had the opportunity to share testimony about my life, and it was at that moment, that I felt connected, and it was that weekend I really felt my bond with Christ and my church grow and strengthen. I shared aspects about my life, that I haven't shared with anyone else (in person at least). I needed to do it, and sure there are aspects I didn't share, such as really only have one grandparent that recognizes you. Two are living, but one is gone in his mind, and my last grandparent that's alive that recognizes me, for the last month, maybe two, I've felt something with her that I felt with my mom.
Speaking of my mom, there isn't a day that goes by where I don't miss her. She past away a day after my birthday 8 years ago. The struggles though, they were hard. I remember going to school (college) coming home, and sleeping downstairs on the carpet 5 days a week while my mom slept on the couch (only place that was comfortable enough for her, she couldn't handle a bed and she wore an oxygen tube thing in her nose for the last few months of her life.) She didn't let her cancer get her down to be honest. She tried fighting it. For the first time in her life, I got her to drink milk, because she always fought it. Didn't like it. I used to lift her up with just my arms, helping her to the bathroom, going with her to doctor alongside my father.
What haunts me to this day, well not really haunts me as in I'm scared, but haunts me as in I still think about it, is her last days. You could tell and sense she was slipping. I remember one night (few days before we took her to the hospital) she was sitting up on the bed (not the couch) and she was struggling to stay awake, but she kept saying for us to get the door because there was a cookie salesman and she wanted us to by some. Didn't make sense, but it felt like she was saying things from her childhood. When we took her into the hospital because she had bruises, I remember seeing her crying begging us not to take her, and her words "if you take me in to the hospital, I will die." Sure enough, a few days later (after my birthday) she passed away. Her fight with cancer lasted a few months. Well in terms of diagnosis learning she had it, lasted a few months. Seeing her there on her death bed afterwards, is also something that sticks with me. I've pretty much grown numb towards seeing other things in the hospital after seeing that.
Prior to finding the church I go to now, there had been days where I found myself wishing roles were reversed, where it had been myself and not her that was taken. There had been days where I wish I could be with her in Heaven, and there had been days where I just plain wanted to give up on life. There's been a void left, because well not having a women's presence in your life sucks, and more so her presence. It's because of her I love to write. Every year as a child growing up, she'd make my brothers and I write a letter to "Santa" and what we'd want for Christmas. My letters went from the typical one page to ten pages and more. She kept encouraging me, and more and more, I looked forward to it, only because I got to write.
The weird thing about my mom passing is that to this day, I've only cried maybe 2 to 3 times about it, and the first time didn't come until more than a year later and during an argument. In fact, the night she passed, when we had people come over, instead of crying, I wrote my first poem (a poem I've sense can't find). I kept too much things inside, and ultimately, I believe it led to my panic attack I had in my sleep in 2005. I had too much stuff kept in. It took me nearly two years to get over that incident.
Since going to my current church, I've really learned to accept and trust in the lord more so now than ever. Don't get me wrong, I've always believed in the lord for as long as I can remember, but I feel like it's only strengthened and grown from where it used to be as a result of where I'm at. Things happen for a reason. That I've always believed. Sure I may not have my mother anymore, may only have one grandparent, and sure other areas are a constant struggle, but I wouldn't be where I'm at today, if they didn't happen. It wasn't until my mom was facing her death, where she encouraged myself and my brothers and family to go to church. That was her only request when she was dieing. She wanted all of us to go to church. It took 7 years to fulfill her wish, as that's how long my father held out. I probably wouldn't have started going to church if she was alive today and healthy, because she was never a church going person, as I mentioned it was only until she was facing her death that changed her, and she ultimately did accept and learn to know the lord while she was in the hospital. I know that because of a nurse that was with her. Nurse said my mom would pray for her (not the other way around) while in the hospital.
In conclusion, God is great and amazing, and truly works in mysterious ways. I wouldn't have met so many amazing people, or been a part of such an amazing group of people if it weren't for that. That much I believe.
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