Passing

My mom passed away last week.

Often, it seems surreal. Could this have happened to me? to my family? to my mom?

My mind keeps fixing on certain moments: her hand clasping mine so tightly in the ER just days before she died. Her last breaths when all I could do was kneel by her side and sob and say "Mom" over and over. How she looked reclining in the front seat of my car while we looked at the fall leaves in Provo Canyon and felt the cool breeze.

People ask me how it was. Hard.

People ask me how I am. OK.

The law of opposition is so at work here. It is good that she is no longer suffering. It is sad that we can't see her anymore. I am glad to be home and caring for my children. I worry about my dad and wish I was there to help him.

Last night, we read the letters my mom had written to each of us. They were all so personal and so filled with love. I told my kids, "I know that Grandma still lives, because this much love doesn't just go away."