Making Sense

Today was my youngest son’s birthday, June 16th. He’s 24 today. We will never forget today – today is the day my mother died. She died in a car crash in Arizona. How do you make sense of something that makes no sense? She would have been 83 in September. She had been very sick these past few months. Why was she in Arizona, when she could barely get out of bed? Why was I looking for her family crest since yesterday?

My father said they were traveling to Arizona to collect a debt. Couldn’t the person have mailed a check? He said another car cut him off and he over-corrected and flipped their car. My mother died in the crash. My father only had a scratch on his hand. My mother’s body is in a funeral home in Parker, Arizona. My dad left her there at the funeral home and went on to Luke, Air Force Base, near Phoenix. He says he’s going to stay in Phoenix for a few days. He said he’d call me later but didn’t. Does this make sense?

So now I try to remember things that make sense.

Sarah, my daughter makes sense. Her son, Derek makes sense. Goats named Blondie make sense.

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Little boys that like to talk about helicop-op-opers make sense.

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How do people get through the day when a loved one dies? Prayers and friends help so much. This makes sense to me. Friends that call, send emails, send text messages – this all makes sense.

Remembering the sad lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was little makes sense.

Having a husband that helps me in so many ways makes sense.

Being home instead of being at work to receive a call like the one I received today is grace and mercy. This makes sense.

Mama

I love you, Mama.

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