I came back to Corvallis to snow, and after two days of it snowing it rained. It didn't just rain, it poured. With the snow now turned to liquid water, and all the rain, Corvallis started flooding. The Willamette River grew about 10 times its size and down town Corvallis had a couple feet of water running through the streets. People brought their boats out and instead of driving around town, they rowed. My apartment wasn't near any flooding, and campus is on enough of a hill that there were just a lot of big puddles, but nothing was really flooding. However, our county and a lot of other counties closer to the coast were declared in a state of disaster by our Governor, and campus was closed on Friday. It didn't mean much for me though because I don't have classes on Fridays this term, I only work. And even though campus was closed, people still needed to eat, so I still needed to work.
But to back up a little, before Friday, on Thursday, I called home. I had found a piano keyboard for a good price and I wanted my Mom's opinion on if it was a good kind of piano keyboard or not. (I did end up buying it, and I'm very excited for it to get here!). Longish story short, I ended up talking to my Dad for a few minutes. He told me he was trying to figure out how to get out to Colorado this last weekend because my Aunt Pam was in the hospital. She was in a lot of pain because of an infection in her liver and her kidneys also weren't working right. My Aunt Pam has spent a lot of time in the hospital over the last couple years. Of course I was worried about her, but I didn't think too much of it. Until I called my Grandma the next day (Friday), so make sure she was doing ok. She put on a good face (even though I couldn't see it), and told me she was ok. But I knew she wasn't really. It was good to talk to her, but it made me a little more worried that this wasn't just another kind of pain Pam has had where she goes to the hospital and gets better and then is able to come home. My Grandma was talking about hospice care and things that have to do with someone being near the end of their life.
I tried calling my Dad on Saturday, but our schedules just never worked out to actually talk and it was just a couple voice mails to each other. On Sunday, after church and football, I finally got a hold of him. My Aunt Pam had been moved that morning from the hospital to the hospice center. She was in and out of being coherent, and at about 5pm Sunday evening (Colorado time), she closed her eyes and just breathed deeply. Except her breathes were a little off. She would take a breath and there was some hesitation between deep breathes. I still didn't think it was that bad, until my Dad said, "She's not doing well. I don't think she's going to make it through the night." Then it hit me. This really was the end. I tried to not cry when I was on the phone with him because he gets sad when his daughters cry. But after I was done talking to him, I just wanted to cry and cry and cry. So that's what I have Erin for. :)
I told her what my Dad had said, and it became even more real hearing myself say the words. My heart started hurting. I usually LOVE when it's time to jump into my bed and go to sleep, but I was dreading sleeping that night. If my Aunt Pam wasn't going to make it through the night, I didn't want Sunday night to happen. I wish time could have just stopped. I called my Mom and cried a little bit with her too. My stomach started hurting and I just felt so sad.
Monday morning I woke up to the text I knew was coming and never wanted to see. From my Dad: My sister Pam passed to the other side this morning at 0629. She was tended by her mother and brothers and good friend Erin.
Crap.
I hate text messages sometimes.
I didn't cry at first. I waited until I knew Rachel and Kelcie had left for class. Then I came out to the living room and cried. And cried and cried. I hate being sad. I felt like I had just barely started not being so sad about my Grandma dying, and now this happened. I had texted Julie the night before about what my Dad said about my Aunt maybe not making it through the night. So I texted her Monday morning and told her I probably wouldn't be in class. I just didn't feel like being around people, especially her. Because I knew as soon as I saw her I would just be crying. I called Dain to tell him because he just makes everything better. It's not like he fixed the problem, but he did make me laugh, and made me feel a little better.
I did still go to work though. By the time it was time for work I was feeling ready to be around people who didn't know what was going on and who wouldn't feel sorry for me. I needed a distraction. But as soon as I walked into work I felt very sick and was thinking maybe it was a bad idea. I made it through it though. Not very happily, and at my break time I was crying.
After work I called my Mom and tried to figure out the plan about the funeral and everything. At that point all I wanted was to just get out of Corvallis and be with my family. After I was done talking to my Mom Dain called again, and I talked to him for a really long time. He's such an awesome friend. And I had been texting Erin and Julie a lot of the day, and that helped too.
Things have been pretty weird the last couple days. I'm doing ok, but I just feel so sad. I start thinking about things I did with Pam, about things she has told me, about her laugh and the way she says gal all the time. I miss her so much. I wish so much that I had more time with her. Death makes me sad, but I am so grateful to know that I will see her again someday.
I thought all I wanted was to get out of Corvallis, but then I started packing today and I realized how much I don't want to go to Colorado without my Aunt Pam being there. I don't want to go to this funeral. I'm really not looking forward to it. Whoooooo, I can do this though.
My Aunt Pam loved lighthouses. And I loved that she loved lighthouses. It seems pretty appropriate to me, because I definitely think of my Aunt Pam as a lighthouse in my life. A lighthouse can be the center of many parables and allegories. In any way I look at it, I always think of a lighthouse as a beacon of light, a lighthouse of hope in dark and periling times. One of my favorite quotes about lighthouses is one from the prophet of the Lord, Thomas S Monson. He said, “Anxiously you ask, “Is there a way to safety? Can someone guide me? Is there an escape from threatened destruction?” The answer is a resounding yes! I counsel you: Look to the lighthouse of the Lord. There is no fog so dense, no night so dark, no gale so strong, no mariner so lost but what its beacon light can rescue. It beckons through the storms of life. It calls, “This way to safety; this way to home.” The lighthouse of the Lord sends forth signals readily recognized and never failing.”
The more I think about it, the more this quote reminds me so much of my Aunt Pam. If I ever am asking anxiously if there is a way to safety, if someone can guide me, if there is an escape from threatened destruction, I think of my Aunt Pam. Not only can I look to the lighthouse of the Lord, but I can look to my Aunt Pam. She is a beacon light who can also rescue. She beckons through storms of life, and calls, “This way to safety; this way to home.” She sends forth signals readily recognized and never failing. It especially is appropriate now that she would be calling, “this way to home.” That’s where she is now, home.
I have and have had a lot of great examples in my life. But my Aunt Pam will always hold a special place for the examples in my life. She showed through her words and actions what it really means to be an instrument of the Lord, and she lived such a Christ-like life. She was so funny. I loved her laugh, and I loved that many times when she laughed she would laugh so hard that she would start crying. And she found so many little things funny, and just took pleasure in the little things of life. I loved the way she would cock her head a little and make her eyes wider when I would tell her about a decision of mine that she may not have exactly approved of. She would make that face and just say “ok” and she would laugh. It was her way of letting me make my own decisions, and not judging me.
I loved that she loved cop shows like me. She introduced me to Monk, one of my favorite tv shows. It was fun just hanging out with her and watching tv. She just had a way of making everything fun. I loved watching her sew. What a natural! She was so fast and just made everything so perfect. And if it wasn’t perfect, she would redo it until it was. That’s how she was about a lot of things in her life. She wanted things to be perfect, and that’s how I know she is going to the Celestial Kingdom. She was human, so she wasn’t perfect. But she sure was close. She always knew how to make me feel better. I remember when I heard the new that she was diagnosed with colon cancer. My Dad called me, and I just cried and cried and cried. When my Aunt Pam heard I was having a hard time with the news, she called me and let me know everything would be ok. She seemed so at peace and calm about the news. I couldn’t believe she took time out of her day to call and make sure I was ok, when it was her who was sick and dying. Not only did she call and make sure I was ok, but throughout the day she sent me a few text messages to check up on me to make sure I was still doing ok. I loved her so much for that, and I am still in awe at how concerned she was about me when it was her life that was crashing down around her.
Spending time with my Aunt Pam always made me happy. It was a privilege to be in her presence, and hear about her life and her advice. She was such a strong woman. She knew how to include me, how to listen to me, and she always knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. She wanted to know about my life, and she always remembered what I told her. She was a teacher. She taught me basic things about sewing and cross stitching and cooking and cleaning and how to iron and about crafts. But more so she taught me how to become closer to my Savior, how to fervently read my scriptures, how to say sincere prayers, how to have faith, how to live a life that makes me a better person. She stressed about silly things and always knew the big things would work out. She was such a great example to me. Like a lighthouse, she held her head high and shed light in the midst of life’s storms and waves.
I think most people know the definition of a lighthouse. On dictionary.com is says a lighthouse is, “a tower or other structure displaying or flashing a very bright light for the guidance of ships in avoiding dangerous areas, in following certain routes, ect.” That is definitely a pretty good definition of a lighthouse. But to me, my definition of a lighthouse will always be my Aunt Pam.
No comments:
Post a Comment