graveside service

It was a beautiful and difficult day in May when we had a small graveside service to bury my mom's ashes.

My dad had printed this picture and taped it to my mom's box and it sat there in his room for quite some time.

But we all felt like it was time to have a graveside service and do this one last earthly act for her.

I snapped this picture before these two rode off to the cemetery. I'm certain my dad was not crying, but I caught his hand at the wrong moment.

This solemn picture is so lovely to me. I hope these two--the youngest of the grandkids--can keep a memory or two of her throughout their lives.

We sang a hymn, prayed, and took turns saying a few words and thoughts.








She gets to be buried with my grandpa and grandma Allen. My dad will someday be buried there as well.

Perry wanted the honor of placing her box in the grave. He loved his Grammie so much.

We each took a turn to shovel some dirt. It felt like the last earthly act of service we could do for her.

 














I wore my flip flops in honor of my mom. She was always barefoot or in flip flops. 

I'm grateful for the semblance of closure this graveside service gave us. I miss her every day though. 

feeling it all and finding rest

It has been such an emotional week. All I want to do/need to do is curl up in my bed for 24 hours with the hope that with some rest my emotions will settle down.

Sometimes feeling everything so deeply is a beautiful blessing. The joy! The fun! The wonder! The adventure! The connection!

And sometimes it leaves me utterly exhausted.  

I took my girls to Disneyland at the beginning of this week. Just me and my girls. When I was there, I remembered that Disneyland reminds me of my mom. Of my family. My grief washed over me numerous times as I rode certain rides or walked by certain places. So much has changed in my Allen family since those years of Disney vacations. My heart feels so happy that we made so many wonderful memories growing up, but also so sad and achy for the ways things have changed. 

I miss my mom so intensely. And I am so sad about the way she died. It breaks my heart. And it lights a fire under me to be there for my own kids. My kids need a mom. I need a mom. The world needs moms.

We made the really hard decision to put our foster care license on hold. It was so emotional to sign that paper. It doesn't mean closed forever but even closed for now breaks my heart.

I've been sorting through childhood trauma and acknowledging my feelings and pain. I am choosing deliberately the boundaries I want to set in place and the ways in which I want to show up. It's a complicated process. I try not to blame other people and acknowledge they must be doing their best. My pain and my hurt is mine to carry, to work through, and to release. I am trying to turn anger, frustration, and hurt into acceptance, compassion, and peace in Christ.

Perry's behaviors have been extremely difficult. Eric has started traveling again. Being at home without someone to tag team feels impossible. Perry is too heavy for me to remove when he is verbally and physically aggressive towards us. It is hard emotionally to have someone scream and call you and your other children names on a regular basis, especially for things that are unreasonable. The physical aggressiveness is scary for all of us, too. It is exhausting to continually show up with all the patience, assertiveness, and unconditional love. All the time. That's why we continually schedule fun things, self care, breaks, date nights, and vacations. It is how we survive. But it's harder to do when one of us travels.

We met as a book club at my house after reading "Just Mercy." Such a powerful book! It changed me and fills me with greater compassion and a will to do more to help others.

I watched Dear Evan Hansen with a friend one night this week. The tears flowed down both of our cheeks. I feel that movie from every single angle. I'm so grateful for a friend right now who also feels it completely and could analyze all the things with me--anxiety, depression, loneliness, trauma, mistakes, parenting, suicide.

I had my injection on Friday. The girl who gave it was covering for the nurse who was out on vacation. And she totally did it wrong and injected my stomach muscle and I've been in so much ab pain since then. Which increases my medical anxiety.

I ran the Mud Girl with Layla and a friend and her daughter. So glad to yet again complete a race that supports women, breast cancer, and gives us the opportunity to do hard things together. But it triggers memories of cancer, of frustration that my body can't do all the things I want it to do without pain, and other past experiences.

With all of these feelings flowing through me this week, I was ready for general conference weekend. The first talk I listened to on saturday afternoon was exactly one of the things that had been weighing heavily on me this weekend. This conference has been talk after talk that my soul needed.

The church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is not perfect--I have been personally hurt and confused by local leaders before. I have seen much fake/hypocritical behavior. I know pieces of the history of the church are confusing and hurtful. But at its core, which we hear at conference and read in the scriptures, it is the most true thing I have ever seen. It is a church that believes in repentance and change--in our personal lives and collectively. It is a church of growth. It is a church that always points me to Christ--not to a man. It is a place to find peace and strength. No matter where I go, I know I will always have the fellowship of a church family. It is a church that strives to live principles and virtues of a good, fulfilling life. It helps me recognize God and miracles in my life. It teaches me who I am and my purpose in my life. 

With all my big feelings and challenges in life, I NEED the CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS. I don't just casually want a church. I NEED a church that helps me draw close to Christ and the peace only He has brought into my life. I need the organization that supports me and my family throughout my life. I need this place where I can remember to have hope and find answers to all of my feelings, questions, and problems. 

I feel like I have felt it all this week. But now, I remember, I can hand it all over to the Lord for awhile and find some rest. True rest. The kind of rest that just might be better ad more realistic than the 24 hour nap I was dreaming of.  

celebration of life

I always knew funerals were important, but I didn’t realize the deep significance until this experience. I needed this memorial service for my mom because I yearned to honor her. I needed a way to express my gratitude and love and to honor all that she was for 65 years. Truly, I needed it more than anything.

My mom loved balloons. We always tried to make sure she got a balloon bouquet for her birthday. She preferred balloons over flowers. An amazon ad popped up on my phone for a balloon arch and the green, gold and cream colors shouted my mom. I didn't hesitate and bought it for her celebration of life.

I also took a drive to Prescott to gather up pictures and artifacts from her life so we could make a display representing her.

Thanks to my sister, Jacqui, and a bunch of good friends, we were able to create this:

A few pics of the prep:

My ward gave us a lovely dinner and we were so grateful for everyone's support. We got a few pictures right at the end with just some of the people.

Miracle of all miracles my dad posed for a picture with us. I can only remember this happening less than a handful of times in my life.

During the dinner, the grandkids were able to get up and share words about grandma. I was proud of each of my kids who shared a memory of her.










I am also grateful that my dad gathered us as a family at the temple that morning. We walked around the temple and shared a few things about my mom. It was a nice way to center ourselves together to start the day.

I hope we were able to properly honor my mom. What a special soul she is.

may angels lead you in

This story is very sacred and special to me, but I write pieces of it here for my family (which is actually my reason for posting anything here in this space). Though, I put more details in my personal journal rather than here. I'm so grateful for the tender mercies of the Lord during this difficult time.

I found out on a friday that my mom had fallen on Thursday. She had hit her head multiple times and so had a black eye, a cut, and broken glasses. Eric and I were in the car within an hour of hearing the news and I'm so glad we went right then verses coming the next morning like we had thought about doing. 

She was struggling comprehending some things and hearing us, but still pretty coherent. We packed up some of my parents things and drove them to our house that night. But it was a rough night back at our house.

In the morning, my mom slept in the bed while we sat around her trying to make a plan. We woke her up to take her medicine but she couldn't hold her head up or swallow water so we knew we needed to get her to the hospital. 

I was able to stay with her in the ER. Her nurse was amazing and the doctors were good. In short, her blood sugar was too low, her hemoglobin was down to 3.8, and her liver and kidneys were not in good shape. While in the ER, she said my name twice and it was comforting for me to know that she knew that I was there with her. I wanted her to know she was not alone and she was loved.

They got her into the ICU pretty quickly. At first I was told by a cranky nurse downstairs that I wouldn't get a visit, but then, thankfully, we got up to ICU they let me come in for a 30 min visit. I am beyond grateful for that short time I had with her. As she lay there asleep, I stood there holding her hand and rubbing her head, I was able to talk to her and tell her what was in my heart at that moment. Then I had the thought to play some music for her. I put on the Monkees and then asked my sisters for other music suggestions. When I turned on "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World, her eyes finally opened. She looked at me with such peace over her face. She smiled the sweetest smile at me. And an overwhelming feeling came over me that my mom would be ok, it was ok to let her go, that she wanted to be with her mama and daddy again, she had been suffering so much for so long. Her smile at me and the peace in her eyes were the reassurance I needed in that moment. Too soon it was time for me to go.

That night her oxygen levels dropped and they had to put her on a ventilator. 

On sunday, my sister was able to have a visit with her and another sister was able to drive down to our house. 

On Monday, after discussion as a family and with the advice of the doctors we made the excruciatingly hard decision to take her off the ventilator and transfer her to comfort care.

The kind nurse let four of us come in and say our final goodbye (picture above) and be with her as she passed. We had some other family with us over facetime. 

Eric gave her a sweet priesthood blessing. We spent some time with her and played her a few songs. Then it was time to take the ventilator out. We stayed right with her for the next 25 min until she passed, all the while playing Jimmy Eat World for her, “…May angels lead you in…”

Walking away from that hospital room was hands down the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. I couldn't control my loud sobs and intense tears.

My mom's spirit had left this earth.