Letting Go (a short, short story)

It's this time of year I'm always surprised by the bundles of lilacs that seem to have bloomed overnight. The lavender aroma shocks me with beauty.

They were my sister's favorite flower.

"This is what heaven will smell like," she would say, sitting on the porch of our childhood home. "Close your eyes, Ginny. Just smell the air."

"How do you know?" I'd ask. "You been to heaven?"

"Oh, shut up, you sassafrassy."

"They are pretty, though, Betty. Let's cut some for mama."

We would fill old jelly jars with water and snip lilacs, setting them on the window panes all around the farmhouse. We knew that the bushes would only hold the blooms for a few weeks before they would wilt. Betty couldn't stand to see them wasted.

Years later, after marriages and kids and divorces, Betty moved into the old house with me. Mama and daddy were gone for a long time by then. My kids were all making families of their own. I was glad to have my sister with me.

"Ginny, I'm sick," she told me. "I can't live alone anymore. I need help."

I set up a room just for her, on the main floor and with plenty of sunlight through the windows. I papered the walls with a lilac print, had lavender carpeting put in. It looked just the way I thought she'd like it. I even transplanted a lilac bush right outside so she could look out at it whenever she desired.

She only lived in that room for three months. After she died I kept the room exactly as she'd left it. I didn't even have the heart to move her slippers from the foot of the bed.

Every once in awhile I still go and sit in her room. The bed remains unmade from when the mortician came for her body. I try to pull the sheets off the mattress, so I can wash them. But something prevents me. That rumbled bedding and crushed pillow are all I have left of her.

It's all I have of anyone.

In-home nurses lived with us, around the clock, for the last two months that Betty was here. They fed her, bathed her, looked after her. All I could do was stand and watch. And that last day, it took so long for her to pass.

"It would help her if  you told her it was okay," the nurse told me in the kitchen. "I think she's holding on for you."

"Oh, she wouldn't do that," I answered. "She isn't even sure of what's happening."

"Well, I don't know about that. They say that the hearing's the last thing to go."

"What do I say, then? Go on and die?" The force in my voice startled me. "I can't do that. No. I won't."

And I didn't. I just sat and watched her dying. It took hours, longer than I ever imagined. Then finally, it was over. My body was paralyzed in the chair by the window in her room.

Now I sit in the chair again. Sometimes I'll talk to her. I don't know if she can hear me. I really wish she could.

"Betty, I'm sorry. I should have let you go," I say it out loud. "It was selfish of me. I was just scared."

I look out the window. The lilacs have just started to bloom. I saw the buds a few days ago. The aroma, rich and familiar, follows me through the yard.

"Is it true, Betty?" I ask the empty room. "Does it really smell like that? Because if it does, then you're in a good place. And if that's the smell then I can only imagine how great everything else is."

I stand up, walk across the soft floor. Without meaning to, I kick a slipper with my foot. Something inside me tells me that it's okay.

"When you came here, I thought we'd have more time. I guess I just wasn't ready to be alone again. It wasn't right for me to lose you so early."

Bending over, I pick up both slippers. A stabbing feeling moves through my stomach. It passes and I've survived it.

"But if you're okay, then I need to be happy for you. And I believe that you're better now."

The wind is tossing the lilac blooms ever so slightly on the other side of the window pane. The window moves stubbornly as I push it up and open. I breathe in the fresh air.

"Good-bye, Betty. I'll always miss you. But I'll see you again real soon."

The case slips off the pillow with a smooth movement. It falls in a heap on the floor.

Mother's Day Thoughts at 11:52 pm

I just checked on my kids. They're sleeping peacefully, snuggled up with bears and dolls and cats. The boys are under their soccer quilts and my daughter is under the pretty pink blanket. They are getting so big. Kids just seem to grow up too fast.

Being a mama has proven to be the best blessing in my life. And being able to parent alongside my husband has been beautiful. On this Mother's Day, I feel overwhelmed by the goodness of my life. And I feel encouraged because my family treasures me.

A couple days ago I heard the news that Brooke is dead. Brooke was 33...the same age as me. She was in the grade ahead of me in high school. We were on the JV Volleyball team together. She played "Liesel" and I "Mother Abbess" in "Sound of Music". We sang in choirs together, competed in vocal contests together. I loved her hair, the blonde and extra curly locks. She tried to teach me how to make mine do that to no avail.

We lost touch after she graduated. I guess that's kind of normal. I'd heard about her attempts at fame. I actually saw her appearance on "The Dating Game". Then I started hearing rumors about trouble. Jail time, failed relationships. I didn't know if everything I'd been told was true.

Then I saw her on Facebook. She wrote a few notes to people on their "walls". But I didn't send a friend request. I can't figure out why I didn't. And I feel badly about it. I'm not one to go on and on thinking "I could have made a difference..." I don't know if I really could have. But I feel badly that I didn't extend friendship to her.

And now she's gone. It's the strangest feeling in the world. She's my age. Something isn't as it should have been. I don't know what happened. Probably never will. I probably don't have the right to know. And that's okay. However, it saddens me that her life was so short.

And today I thought about her mom. Her mom must have had the worst Mother's Day she'll likely ever experience. I can't imagine her grief...and I really don't want to. How empty she must have felt today, knowing that one of her precious daughters was gone.

I know her mom loved her. She wanted the best for her daughter. She raised her to love Jesus and try to make good choices and provided for her needs.

Then how could this have happened?

I don't know. Why does anything bad happen? There are so many quick and easy answers to that...but none of them really work for me right now.

The world's broken. Yup. That's true. It's broken and painful and confusing. And sometimes it is a deep pit and it sure is hard to see the light.

But there is light. Yes. It is there. And in the moments when we can't see it we need to just remember that it is there. And sooner or later it will warm us, illuminate our way.

I hope that Brooke's mom...and dad....and sister are able to remember the light.

So, I think about my kids. They are so precious to me. And all I can do is be diligent, pray for them, love them, show them the ways of Christ.

And then I have to trust.

Even though sometimes that trust can seem impossible. Even though we don't understand early deaths, heartbreaks, disappointments, offenses; we must trust.

Every night right before our kids drift off to sleep, we sing a song that pulls its lyrics from Proverbs. "Trust in the Lord with all of your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all of your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. Don't worry about tomorrow, He's got it under control. Just trust in the Lord with all of you heart and He will carry you through."

Don't worry. Trust. He'll carry you through.

I believe. And I need help where I doubt.