Snow

Even as a young child, I've always liked snow. Big, white, fluffy flakes falling out of the sky. But probably the thing I love the most is that each and every flake is different - just like our finger prints. When learning about snow in elementary school, that is the thing that stuck in my mind about snow the most! EVERY SINGLE FLAKE IS DIFFERENT. Think about that. That is truly amazing. This year we've gotten tons of snow. How is each and every flake unique?! I still don't believe it. There has to be some duplication somewhere, right?! Ah the pessimist in me...

Snow in adulthood has changed meaning totally. At one time in my life, it meant delays or closings - no work for me and no school for the kids. Sometimes it was welcomed, and others a nuisance. But generally, I've always succumbed to the romantic nature of bundling up to go outside and play in a winter wonderland. Who doesn't enjoy making snow angels, snow men, icy forts, and sledding?! And what about laying your head back with your mouth opened wide to catch an ice crystal or two? Oh the joys of snow. One of the best parts is coming inside, frozen to the core, to eat warm soup and drink hot chocolate. And it's even better if there's a roaring fire to thaw in front of.

Yesterday as I was out shoveling, my mind was idly wandering as usual. I was thinking about how everyone seems to be done with winter and snow this year. Snow scrooges as I like to call them. And I was formulating the argument of just how wonderful snow is. I first thought of just what snow is - water. In other seasons, like the dead of summer, water (rain) is much welcomed. Then that led my thoughts to the wonderful smell that permeates the environment after a summer squall. Cleansing, that's what rain and snow are about. It's no coincidence that water when frozen is pure white. Blanketed in snow, even a cow pile is clean!

My Mom was one of the biggest detractors of snow in her later years. She didn't like the cold or the inconvenience that it brought. But in her death, which was 4 years ago this month, she gave me the gift of snow three separate times in one week. As a result, snow is VERY special to me now, and especially in the month of February!

Mom died of a heart attack Sunday, February 19, 2006. Of course we had warning signs, but none of us were looking. She was our solid rock that not a single one of us would have ever imagined expiring from this world. While she was so busy caring for everyone else, she failed to care for herself - a common ailment of a mother.

The night she died, a snow storm was brewing along the east coast. Even in Charlotte, we were having bad weather. When I got the call she had died, they also told me I'd need to get there quickly as she was an organ donor, and they'd be coming soon to harvest her remains. In the moment, I decided I wanted to see her. We threw together what we'd need for the trip and took off toward West Virginia. As we drove, the weather progressively got worse.

All I could think about was how much Mom hated snow and now it was snow that was keeping me from her. It was as if we had a giant stop watch in the car with us ticking off the seconds as we watched the flakes pouring down in the glare of our headlights. Every delay meant I may not get to see her. I felt it and Tony felt it. Fortunately, Cassidi had fallen asleep in the back seat. She was only 10.

But as the time slipped by, I had more time to think. I have not lost many people in my life. But Mom had just lost her own mother less than a year before. Mamaw did not want to be on display in her death. Mom felt very strongly about supporting her wish. Although we never discussed how it made her feel related to her own death, I was left with the impression she would not want to be either. As I processed all of this as we drove, I realized that I did not want to see her afterall. I tried to convince Tony to just slow down and keep us safe. He got very emotional thinking that I should see her. But I was able to assure him that for me, it was the better solution, and thanks to Mom's intervention with the snow, I could see the conclusion clearly.

A few days before Mom died, a teenager at her church had died in a car accident. It was a tragic loss for her and the church as it was the pastor's daughter. The girl had wanted to be cremated. This led Mom and Dad to discussions, and they both decided they wanted to be cremated, too. I was not aware of these events, but Dad made sure her wishes were honored. We put together a memorial service at her church in lieu of a wake/funeral. We gathered as many family photos as we could to make a collage. In digging through all of the pictures, I found one that I felt was a true representation of her spirit. We blew that picture up and used it for the service. Family was the center of her universe so we had a flower arrangement that represented each of her 5 children, 14 grandchildren, and 6 great grandchildren at the time of her death. Finally, God had been her savior through thick and thin, and her bible was never far from her reach. We used her bible as the true representation of her body as her ashes were not available as yet.

The second snow came the morning of her memorial service which was a Wednesday - a school day. She had so many friends that worked in the school system and children that she had taught Sunday school to over the years. With school canceled, they'd get the opportunity to attend her service. I remember waking up and thanking God and Mom for the snow yet again.

The week Mom died, I did my best to stay strong and depended upon my planning and organizing of things to keep my emotions at bay. Being a person that cries on Hallmark commercials, this was no easy task. I had my opportunities to grieve and took advantage of them when they arose. When I first walked into the house, I could not believe she wasn't there. I went through every room in the house calling for her. I just knew they had made a mistake and she really was there. My brother Randy followed me and held me as the realization hit that she truly was gone. That's a hard moment to remember.

The next time was the following day before the family all started coming in. I had not slept that whole night and was up with my sister Rhondella. We had nearly lost Dad the same night we lost Mom as he had heart palpitations in the hospital when they took her in. It was a scary thing to consider losing both parents in one fell swoop. Needless to say, I worried about him sleeping through the night. But morning came and all was well.

I was in his room straightening up and came to Mom's dresser. She always was a pack rat and a clutterbug. I started to straighten up things and the memories came flooding back. The dresser had a chunky wood base with a wooden frame around the mirror that had small drawers and shelves on both sides. As a kid, I remember being enamored with it as it as those little drawers were a good place to keep treasures. I liked snooping through it as a kid to see what they held.

This day as I looked through each item, I held them close to my heart as I realized they were something of significance to her because she had kept and placed them so lovingly in their own nook. No item had any significant dollar value really. There were things like a baseball counter from her umpiring days, a pendant marking weight loss in her TOPS days, a birth announcement from the paper folded haphazardly, etc. A stream of tears flooded my heart as I missed her spirit. What I wouldn't have given to have her standing beside me so I could ask the meaning of each and every item.

I was grateful for the hour or so that I had alone with her. I can remember praying that no one would find me as I walked through memory lane. Again, Mom was watching out for me and let me have the sanctuary. Even in her death, she was Mom!

As I mentioned, I was worried about Dad. I have the same, sometimes annoying, mother hen tendencies that my Mom had. Mom did nearly every domestic duty in their 47 years of marriage. I knew it was going to be a hard transition for him in losing her. The week we were there, I tried to help him as much as I could without getting in his way. Dad is a very strong and independent man. He did not ask for my help, nor did he probably want it. But in the hour of his most needful moment of life, I wanted to be there in case he did.

As the week progressed and we drew nearer to going home, I wondered how he was going to fare once all of us left and the house became empty. I toyed with the idea of staying behind for a week just in case he needed something. Tony said he'd support whatever decision I made. I was so torn. I knew he needed to start the grieving process that was was going to be so painful for him. I didn't want him to have to experience that alone. But at the same time, I knew he needed to walk the path to recovery. A jumble of emotions converging on my already broken heart. I didn't know which direction to take. That Saturday night, I was searching my soul for the answer.

The next morning, I needed only to look out the window for my answer. Snow. The last time I saw Mom was at Christmas. The morning we were to head home, a big snow storm was moving in. We had to leave earlier than we expected to avoid any bad road conditions. I knew this snow was Mom reassuring me that it was ok to go home. That Dad was going to be just fine, and I needed to get home to my own grieving.

In the four years of her absence, I've grown to love her more than I ever let her know while she was here. I now realize what an angel she was in so many aspects of my existence. When someone tells me I look like her, it warms my heart. When someone tells me I have her heart, it warms my soul. And when the storms of winter rage and blanket this Earth with cold, wet snow, I know my Mom is still watching over me. I love you Mom!