Yesterday morning I got a phone call from my Mom. She was calling to tell me that my Aunt JoAnna and her 4 daughters had been in a car accident the night before- JoAnna and her oldest daughter had died and her other three girls were in the hospital with mild to serious injuries.
And I can't stop thinking about it.
I wasn't particularly close to my Uncle Russell and Aunt JoAnna- they live in southern Utah which is quite a drive from Boise. But recently JoAnna had reached out to me. She e-mailed me and told me how much she enjoyed my blog, how she loved knowing what was going on with our family and seeing the pictures of Audrey. In fact it's strange to type this knowing that she won't be reading it. We kept in contact via e-mail and facebook and then comments when she started her own blog. And now I go to her blog and look at the pictures of her gorgeous family and I ache for them. I try to empathize and put myself in their shoes and then wonder how anyone can handle grief like what they must be feeling.
8 years ago my Grandpa died. It was a premature death that left my family reeling. After the funeral was over and the long line of well-wishers were gone we found ourselves back at my Grandparents' house. It was late in the evening and clouds had rolled in, the wind started to blow and rain started to fall. My Grandma kept worrying about my Grandpa being out in the cemetery in the wind and the rain, saying how he hated to be cold, how when there was a storm like this that he liked to settle in warm and cozy in the house. My Mom and her siblings reassured my Grandma over and over again that Grandpa wasn't there in his grave- that it was just his body, that he had moved on and wouldn't feel the wind. And I know that my Grandma knew that. But she still worried.
It makes sense to me that my Grandma would worry about my Grandpa's body. As wives and mothers that seems to make up the majority of our duties. I prepare food multiple times everyday to nourish my husband and daughter's bodies and I get a distinct satisfaction from knowing that their stomachs are full. I worry about how Audrey's bones are growing and how her brain is developing. I get her vaccinated to build her immune system and check her teeth for any spots or discoloration when I brush them. I get Justin aspirin when his back hurts, pillows when he's having stomach trouble at night. I tip-toe into Audrey's room before I go to bed and place my hand on her forehead and feet to make sure that she's not too hot or too cold. I realize that it is also my job to nourish my family spiritually and emotionally but it seems like the physical nourishment takes up most of my time.
And then I think of my Aunt JoAnna. She is a mother. I know that she would want to be there for her girls right now more than ever to take care of their little bruised bodies, to rub their backs, to calm their fears, to ease their pain. It's difficult to make sense of something like this.
My heart hurts when I think about the last few moments of JoAnna's life and the long years that stretch ahead for my Uncle Russell. I tear up when I think of a 9 year old's life ended abruptly and three other little girls in the hospital. I'm humbled by a God who knows more than I do, and I pray that he'll bless this little family.
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