1 year

Good morning, friends! 

Today marks 1 year since we lost Chris’s mom, Lequeeta, to cancer. 

Until you’ve personally lost a parent, I feel like you can’t truly comprehend the sorrow and grief that comes from that. 

I would say with Chris, me, and the girls we are at a place where 85% of the time now when we think of Lequeeta, we think of wonderful, happy memories.  However, there is still that 15% of the time where grief comes crashing in and takes our breath away and makes us stop in our tracks missing her so much. 

And you know what, that’s okay!!?!?  Yes, time helps with the hurt and sorrow to “get easier”, but it never truly goes away. 

My FIL quoted the saying that grief is love with no place to go.  I am so thankful for the love we had for Lequeeta and that she had to us.  

Today, I wanted to share some of my thoughts on what grief has been like in our household for the last year.  Remember, grief is different for everyone and this is just a small glimpse into some of our grief from my perspective.  

Grief is having to tell your girls that their Nana passed away when just two weeks prior we were all at a Cardinals baseball game together and she was doing great.

Grief is having your father in law live with you for a few months because he can’t bring himself to go back into the house that he and Lequeeta lived in because it’s too hard.

Grief is being so proud of how well your husband and FIL spoke at Lequeeta’s funeral and knowing that she would be so proud of them with how they honored her.

Grief is going to the graveside when the headstone is set and bawling like a baby because it seems so much more “real”.

Grief is listening to Chris call his Gran (Lequeeta’s mom) almost daily for a while and listening to them cry and share stories together.  

Grief is watching your FIL preach his very first sermon back since Lequeeta passed away and being so proud of how well he did.  I know Lequeeta was cheering him on from heaven.  

Grief is Emily Grace BAWLING her eyes out after finding a card from Nana in one of her drawers. 

Grief is thinking I am finally getting hold of my emotions but then hearing a song on the radio from Lequeeta’s funeral and losing it.

Grief is saving Lequeeta’s last text message and voicemail on my phone so I have it forever.

Grief is going through all Lequeeta’s clothes and shoes and realizing Elizabeth can wear the shoes so we get them for her, but then we can’t physically make ourselves donate the clothes, so friends finish that job for us.  

Grief is taking first day of school pictures of the girls and immediately out of habit wanting to text them to Lequeeta because she loved getting pictures of the girls, but then remembering she is gone.

Grief is making Lequeeta’s favorite cake on her first birthday in heaven knowing that’s what I would’ve done for her if she was still here with us.  

Grief is realizing at Thanksgiving that I will never eat her special dressing/stuffing again and kicking myself that I didn’t watch her make it more.

Grief is your FIL calling you crying because he has never once had to buy a birthday gift or card for the girls because Lequeeta has always taken care of those type of things.  

Grief is Lizzie turning 13 and being so sad in my spirit knowing Lequeeta would love her special day and seeing her so excited to go to California. 

Grief is planning a huge trip to Disney at Christmas because we knew we had to do something different.  Christmas was Lequeeta’s thing and this first one without her we knew would be rough, so we did something with James out of the ordinary. 

Grief is praying to God for strength many, many, many times in a day when the grief is so strong.  

Grief is loading up and driving an hour to the cemetery when we just need to talk or “see” Lequeeta.  

Grief is looking back at pictures late at night when I can’t sleep because I miss Lequeeta so bad.

Grief is searching Lequeeta’s Facebook page over and over when I want to remember sweet little comments she made on my posts or what was going on in her life at certain times.  

Grief is starting to hear the girls openly talk about memories of Lequeeta and realizing they are finally healing.  

Grief is when a great family friend gets diagnosed with cancer and major fear and memories creep back in of when Lequeeta was first diagnosed.  And going through the whole day just MAD and hating cancer so much!  

Grief is taking the girls to get their nails done before their dance because this is something Lequeeta always did for them and then getting mad/sad that I’m the one having to do this and Lequeeta isn’t here to take them.  

Grief is crying happy tears knowing Lequeeta would love to see their dresses and how pretty they looked for said dance. 

Grief is having a sunflower sign in my yard even though it’s not my style because it was Lequeeta’s and it makes your family think of her every time we see it.

Grief is watching your FIL cry at Elizabeth’s first volleyball game this season because he was there without Lequeeta.  

Grief is laughing at special memories with Chris of his mom and realizing that it’s okay to laugh and remember all the happy times.  

Grief is being happy that I have kept the plant alive from her funeral this whole time. 

Grief is waking up crying at 4:00 a.m. missing Lequeeta so bad.  

Grief is when I realize that the actual “grieving” is slowly starting to subside and I am able to talk about memories without crying.

Grief is when Emily turned 12 and Chris and I staying up late talking about all the things Lequeeta is missing out on and having just a good ole’ cry-fest. 

Grief is being a very strong Christian family and relying on God’s strength to help get you through the tough times in life.  

Grief is knowing that no matter what is thrown our way we are a family that will rally together and overcome it with the Lord’s help. 

As you can tell from this post, we miss Lequeeta so much!  She was a very special lady in our lives and our life isn’t the same without her.

Friends, cherish the time you have with your loved ones today.  You never know when they might be gone and when all you have left of them is a memory.