To Have Loved and Lost

Today, on the fourteenth anniversary of THE  terrible, horrible no good, very bad day, I took my grief out of the mothballs in the closet.  Giving it a good shake to remove the cobwebs, I held it up to the sun and inspected it.  Considering how often it has been used and abused over the past fourteen years,  it is in remarkably good condition.   

Through the years I have used it less and less.   But on October 29th each year, the memories come rushing back like a tidal wave.  And no matter how much I think  that time should have built up the sandbags high enough to protect my heart, the waves of grief sweep over me once again, drawing me down into the depths of despair.  

 Often it strikes suddenly and without warning.  One minute I am driving in the car and the next I am swept down into a deep, dark place that is the memory of the unimaginable pain of losing a child through a failed adoption.  It is as if time stands still, and I am transported back to the moment I placed her last bag into the car and watched her drive away from me forever.   

And then suddenly I am back to reality, I can breathe again, the imaginary carving knife is removed from my chest and life goes on.  But I am left feeling as if the wind has been knocked from my body.  The world is gray.  Nothing tastes good.  Colors are subdued.   

As I continue working, I accomplish the tasks before me.  A phone is picked up, a question answered, an appointment set, and an email sent.  But all the time, I am bracing myself for the next assault.  For I know it will come as sure as the sun will rise each day.  

And then again without warning, another flashback to a house packed in the U-haul leaving the house dark and empty and the tears that came until late into the night.   When you have wept longer and harder than you ever thought possible, you lay on the floor limp and lifeless as a rag doll, hoping the ground will open and swallow you whole.  But that is not the way life or Heavenly Father works.  Instead you are given a chance to stretch and grow from the pain and to feel the comfort that only the Savior can offer.   

And suddenly it is time to fix dinner and pick up kids and do the things that mothers do.  Eventually the evening is over and the day, THE DREADED DAY, comes to a close.  But before I go to bed, I sit quietly in my rocking chair with that grief that is as familiar to me as my favorite pair of jeans or worn out quilt.  Rocking back and forth, as if to soothe that grief back to sleep.

  And as I rock that grief, I sing softly that eventually, all will be right.   That perhaps someday the pain will fade to a bearable level.  All the time knowing if that day were to come, I would feel that diminished pain to be a betrayal, and so I would never let it happen. 

 My grief and I, we have spent some special bonding time together through the years and today, and I am ready to place it back in the closet for another year.  Life will go on.  I will laugh and and I will smile and sometimes even cry.  Rationally I know that enjoying my life today does not mean I loved her any less.  

 But somehow, I will be forever changed by the fact that I loved and lost.  And perhaps it is OK, because I have grown used to this person I have become.  The one that keeps a special piece of my heart locked up and set aside for a blue eyed, blonde haired three year old little girl, who is now seventeen.   

We will be forever connected she and I, by an invisible thread, and someday, if not in this life, then the next, we will meet again.  And it is the joy of that day that I must cling to like a life preserver as I swim to shore out of the chilly, crippling depths of despair.

Until next year, my friend.  See ya, next year.

Much Ado About Nothing

The dreaded day of my IRS audit finally arrived. I have spent much of the past two weeks searching hi and low and near and far for my supporting documentation.

Yesterday, I put the finishing touches on the worksheets I created. I checked and double checked everything. I looked on map quest so I would know where exactly I was going to go. I made sure that all my folders were neatly stacked and ready to go.

I tried to reassure myself that all would be well, but I would be lying if I said that it wasn't difficult to go to sleep. It would also be a lie to say that I slept soundly through the night without a care in the world. I tossed and turned all night long whilst dreaming of the Spanish Inquisition.

Somehow, I snoozed my alarm and was very dismayed to wake and see that the time was 7:18. My appointment was for 8:00 am. Hurriedly I got dressed, telling myself that showers are highly over rated.

The computer beckoned to me to check and see if anyone had commented on my post yesterday. This was a mistake, because before I knew it 15 minutes had passed and I was later leaving than I wanted to be.

Once again, I cautiously sped trying to make up for lost time. There were two different routes I could have taken, but one of them had cars backed up onto the off ramp, so that made my decision easy.

Somehow I missed the building the first time I drove by and actually ran a red light to do a U-turn. I didn't have time to wait and there were no cars anywhere in the vicinity.

Anxiously, I pulled the parking garage ticket from the little machine. My stomach had now felt like I had swallowed a bucket of nails. Quickly, I parked and walked into the building. By now I was feeling a little dizzy and wondered if they have any paper bags I could breathe into.

The security guard checked out my appointment letter and told me to go through two large doors. I wondered if they would lock behind me and I would never be heard from again.

Once in the smallish waiting room, I picked up the phone and dialed the extension on my letter to let my examiner know I was there. He told me to wait for a few minutes.

I sat down and noticed a plant growing up and over the whole wall.

I thought it looked rather ominous and picture worthy. Quick as a bunny, I pulled out my camera and snapped a shot. The secretary behind the glass window informed me that it is against the law to take pictures in federal buildings. I said "Sorry, I didn't know, and it was just the plant anyway."

This secretary reminded me of the secretary in Monsters Inc. I asked her about the plant and she told me that it was 20 years old. Yikes, she did look ancient, but how long had she worked there? Perhaps that plant was her pride and joy, her only source of happiness in this life, and I had (gasp) taken a picture of it. Well, excuuuse me. Am I right, doesn't it look kind of creepy?

Finally, the door leading back to all the cubicles opened, and I was face to face with the MAN. I not sure what I expected, probably someone tall and spindly, with a comb over, and thick black rimmed glasses. The person I stood facing looked more like Wilford Brimley than Icabod Crane.

He seemed nice enough. He ushered me back to a cubicle in the back that even had a window. Somehow, I had envisioned a dark large room with spot lights and torture devices. There wasn't even anything remotely scary about this cubicle. In fact there was a cane laying on the back credenza and a Starbucks cup sitting next to the computer. All very normal run of the mill stuff.

I sat there waiting patiently. One person had given me the advice that I was not to offer any information, only answer questions as they were asked. This had me very worried because when I get nervous I tend to ramble on and fill any silence. So I was concentrating on not talking which made me even more nervous.

First he went over my rights. Blah, blah, blah and yada, yada, yada. Then he asked me a bunch of questions about whether I had any undeclared income or any rich uncles who died and left me millions of dollars that I had failed to report. I wondered that if you did have hidden money, would you just tell the IRS about it. The only question I could answer yes to was the one about getting an insurance settlement for my car that Trent totaled.

Then he asked me a bunch of information like my address and phone number. It kind of scared me to think that I had to give the IRS my cell phone number. All of these questions were harmless, though.

Finally, the moment of truth. We moved onto the part of him asking for my supporting detail about my cash contributions. I was a little put out to find out that he accepted just my letter from the church about my tithing. I didn't need all the copies of my canceled checks after all. What the what? Oh well it was reeeally fun to spend 6 hours digging through bank statements and at the bank in Utah. Seriously, I shouldn't complain, it was much easier this way. But why did the letter they sent me say I needed the dang copies, in the first place.

He did take the copies of the checks that I had given to Friends of Scouting and for Jared's scout camp. I really thought that he was going to question me about the scout camp, but I managed to keep from rambling on about it and he didn't say anything.

He made copies of the two receipts I had from Good Will. I was worried about those as well, but he didn't want anything more than the copies.

Then he did some things on his computer and printed out some forms. All the while I sat there dying from the suspense, but trying to remain calm.

In the end he told me that I did not owe any additional tax. And I would not be audited for 2008 or 2009. And just like that, it was over.

I pondered asking him if I could take my picture with him, but given the whole "it's against the rules" policy, I decided discretion was the better part of valor.

He shook my hand and escorted me out to the waiting room. The whole thing took 30 minutes. I spent longer in the car to get there and back.

And so just like some kind commenter had told me, it was much better than I had expected. Painless even. The worst part was all the stress and worry that I inflicted on myself before I even got there.

I came home and informed my husband, who was very relieved. He was convinced that all our assets were going to be confiscated and we would end up homeless living in a van down by the river. Except Vegas doesn't have any rivers. We do however own a van, so half of his dream could have come true. He's an optimist that way.

I did request that my family address me with "Hail the conquering hero" for the rest of the day, but they didn't seem keen on that idea.

At least now I can check "Stress out over the doom and gloom of the upcoming IRS audit" off my list of things to do each day. What will I do with all the spare time and added years to my life expectancy?

A New Life Experience

A couple of weeks ago, I went to my mailbox, and what did I see? A letter from the IRS staring at me. Yes, people, I can now add "Audited by the IRS" to my list of life experiences I could do without.

Of course this came in the middle of all my crazy working weeks. So I just decided to stay in denial and put it to the side.

Today, it has finally made it to the top of my "Things to have a nervous break down over today" list. So I thought I would blog about it.

Another time, the chance to blog about something is the only good thing you have to say about it. Because sitting here at my computer blogging, is so much more productive than say gathering my supporting documentation in order, don't ya think? It's all about priorities, right?

And proving once again that no good deed goes unpunished, the category they have chosen to audit is my charitable contributions for 2007. If I read the paperwork correctly, I have to get copies of all my checks for supporting back up.

The date of my audit is August 12th at 8:00 AM. Are these people saddists or what? Way to ruin my summer vacation. And the letter says to be prepared to be there/be tortured for four hours. Good night nurse! What could they possibly talk to/grill me about for four hours. That is a ways away, but I have plans to be out of town for 10 days in the next two weeks. This weekend to attend a family reunion in Preston Idaho and the next to attend a nephew's baptism in Arizona.

So I better stop typing and get to working on that little project. My husband is a bit of a doomsdayer and he is sure we will loose all we own from penalties. If I go to jail for tax evasion, could someone please send me a cake with a file in it or at the very least a lap top with an Internet card. Think of the possibilities for blogging from jail. Hmmmm. Another time blogging can make the best of a worst case scenario.

Pat's Ponderings

Well I find my self home alone due to Diana being at a friends house and the menfolk gone to priesthood meeting. I wanted to record a few of the things that have happened in the past week.
Last Sunday night I received a call informing me of the death of a sister in our ward. It was rather unexpected, in that she went to bed Saturday night and just did not wake up the next morning. This sister happened to be one of Diana's primary teachers. So I had to break the news to Diana. This sister was 65 and in relatively good health. Someone at the funeral said that she had come visiting teaching the Thursday before she died. At the visit the sister who would die 3 days later, said she wasn't feeling well, but that she thought it was allergies. I would like to sign up for dying in my sleep that way. It sounds like the ideal way to die, since it has to happen eventually.
So Friday was the funeral. I took Diana out of school so she could attend because she said that she really wanted to go. I thought it might be a good way for her to have closure. Diana did even go into the viewing, which I hope will not scar her for life, but I don't think it did. The other teacher of the class was there and she seemed very upset. I think that it helped in a way to have Diana there. Even though I knew the sister who passed away, I do not feel the same sense of loss that Diana and her remaining teacher feel. Diana's living teacher reminded her of how Sis. Winward had just taught them a lesson about the Resurrection. I think that is very comforting to know that this Sister who died had such a strong testimony of the plan of salvation.
This whole experience had made me take a closer look at my own life. Sometimes we get no warning of when we might die. So just like we always hear, we need to be living each day as if it were our last.