After sorrow has settled into your soul, it loops off for a while until it reconnects itself for reasons both random and predictable. Predictably, there are times when the calendar is not a friend. Significant days are given over to grieving until, one year, you find yourself sighing instead of crying.
Random outbursts of grief can accompany a smell, a song, a smile, a photo, a familiar gesture, or some momento that revives a dormant memory. The most perplexing experience is when sorrows, like sea-billows, roll right over you for no reason at all.
I have learned that grief relative to my mom’s death touches down during major life transitions. (She died almost 40 years ago when I was 10.) The life transition taking place is the impending marriage of my second son. Recently I awoke in tears, disoriented and disheveled. I lay in bed and wondered why I felt so sad. The reason was simple: I missed my mom.
I yearn for one moment with my mom on the glorious day of my son’s wedding. I long to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, my arm linked with hers, our hands clasped together, as we watch “our boy” make his marriage vows.
that you are training your grandchildren
when you are training your children.
In that sense, my mom had a part in raising this child of mine, this son whom I thought of as my “sandpaper” child. Of course, I was his “sandpaper” mom. Friction racked up frequent flyer miles in the flights of words that traveled between us. At one point it took faith to look forward to a future relationship between us which would be characterized by friendship.
At some undefined period, four or five years ago, the Spirit of God leaned down and blew off the grit, the grime, the crumbs — all the residue from years of sandpaper rubbing. He licked His finger, as it were, and polished the surfaces. He gave us repentance, for we both needed it. To our surprise there was a smoothness of affection, an ease between us, a fellowship that grew as he became more independent.
On Carson’s wedding day we will rejoice in the love between husband and wife; we will give thanks to the Giver of all good gifts; we will praise God for a son and a (new) daughter who both love the Lord. At some point I will whisper a personal prayer of thanksgiving for this son of mine, for the reconciliation between us, for the growing love and friendship we share.
My new daughter-in-law has thought of a wonderful way to give thanks for the heritage they have received. She is setting up a table at the reception with six framed photos: pictures of the parents of the bride and groom on their wedding day, and wedding photos of all four sets of grandparents. In an age of rugged individuality, it is refreshing to see the respect and honor given to parents and grandparents.
The Apostle’s Creed says: I believe in the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.
I do believe there will be a day, one fine day, when my mom, my son and I will embrace, squeeze each other and throw our heads back and laugh the kind of laughter that begins down deep and emerges in a glorious melody. Sorrow won’t exist, even as a distant memory. We will beckon others to join us: the beautiful grandma my son has grown up with, the wife of his youth, my husband, the grandfather I never knew, my son’s grandchildren, and their children’s children. Together we will dance and sing and celebrate the greatness of God.
and His covenant faithfulness endures forever.
A Living Pencil 
Just lovely. And touching. Carol, you have such a gift of words.I have a sandpaper child too. I long for the Lord to “polish our surfaces” and realize that he will in his time. For now, I suppose there is more sanding out blemishes and smoothing the rough edges. And that’s not a painless process.Beautiful thoughts. Janie
Thank you, Janie.
Touching….was the word that came to my mind, too. I just cant imagine trying to express such grief. But I can read that it is the Lord who has given you the strength and the words. I will pray for you and yours all this week, and especially on Sunday. Blessings on the ceremony, festivities, and new couple
Dana in GA
I have been enjoying your blog for a little while now and never fail to come away with some blessing. Thank you. The best of wishes for your son and future daughter-in-law. I understand your feelings about your mom. I lost my mother 14 years ago today. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her. My 12 yos made me smile and cry at the same time when as we were talking in the car the other day, he looked at me and said, “Mom, when you’re gone you’ll be there for us just like Grandma is right?” Through my tears I nodded an affirming yes. I’m sure your mom will be there with all of you at that very special wedding.
Barb
Hi Barb! Thanks for commenting. These anniversary days are hard ones, aren’t they? Your son sounds like he has a sensitive heart.Carol
Carol, you always used to tell me that I had a real way with words, but you have far surpassed me with this blog entry. It took my breath away! I can only hope that one day, the grief I’m presently experiencing will be expressed with a sigh, instead of an involuntarily closed throat and the inevitable wetness at the corners of my eyes. Your joy in this wedding, twinged ever so slightly with the dysphoria of your mother’s absence, has already been a blessing to my heart.
Thank you once again, for putting into words what the rest of us feel but fail the ability to express. I just took my Mom back to Florida and to her home. Her visit was a gift full of memories from the Lord. Once again I read your blog with a sigh. You have your mother’s smile, I think.
My grandmother Harper was truely an amazing woman – much like you, Aunt Carol. It’s true you both have the same smile. :o) I hope all goes well at the wedding. I wish I could go, but Penn State has finals scheduled for that week. Love you!
Aw Anne, you bring tears to my eyes. Your grandmother would have enjoyed seeing you develop into such a lovely, accomplished woman. She would have encouraged you in your endeavors. She would have prayed for you. You would have been certain of her love. She was unflappable. The first time I saw her fall apart and sob was when your dad had a concussion from a football hit. She depended on him a lot, as the oldest son. It was such a shock to see her tears, but also kind of cool, in a weird way, knowing that she loved him so much.We’ll try to keep the digital cameras going and send you lots of pictures from the wedding. I’m so delighted, *so delighted* that your dad will be there. Love you, love you, love you!
I am blessed to still have my parents, but have walked through grief with my husband, who lost his beloved father 10 years ago. He has recently been working on a plumbing project in our home, and keeps saying, “I wish I could call Dad and ask him how to……” Because his father had taught him the basics of plumbing, this little project has brought a fresh wave of grief. The pain is bittersweet, because it is the price of love.Thank you for another wonderful post.Poiema
In tears here reading your beautiful post. I’ve been listening to “Father Joe” on CD. The book was written by Tony Hendra about his long relationship with a Benedictine monk. It was a bit rough in parts, but his portrayal of Father Joe was beautiful. I cried in loud sobs at the end of the book yesterday. I miss my Mom at big times, too. Luke’s graduation, taking Luke to college, when both of my kids were born. Cassie especially has a yearning to know her Grandma Winnie. I know someday she will and she will begin an eternal relationship with the Grandma who forms such a large part of her personality.I am so glad you and your sandpaper son have healed your relationship. God bless his wedding and your growing family.Sandy