You'll Be Okay

You’ll Be Alright

I forgot it’s been 15 years ago today that you left this earth for something better.

Dana (my sister) posted something that got me thinking….thinking about you.

I was your favorite son, since I am your only son it’s easy to hold that place. I was a mommies boy and never ashamed to be called that. You let me get away with more than you should. I had some rough spots in my life and while we didn’t have deep talks about a lot of it, you saying it will be okay was enough. I always knew you were "for me." That's so important that a kid understands that because the world is filled with people ready to take you down.

I remember a time I got an award in high school and was so proud. When my name was called in a school assembly, you and dad were both there. A group of popular guys who apparently didn't like me, booed. I was mortified. Dad, who wanted me to be popular, didn’t say much. It felt like rejection or shame of me. You saw how much the boo hurt and dad’s reaction made it worse, so you said to me “It’s okay, you’re going to be fine.”

You told me I’d be fine when I had cancer.

But that was over the phone.

I remember coming to Portland for a doctors appointment and decided to stop my your place on the way back to Eugene.

It was March of 2010.

As I’m driving over I started sobbing. It surprised me because I had told you what was going on but I hadn’t seen you. I needed to be held by my mom because she was always there. I needed you at that moment. I needed to see you tell me I'd be fine.

When I got there I started sobbing. You said I’d be fine and we started to talk.

We talked for hours, literally.

We talked about growing up, her life, me, grandma, all of it.

As we wrapped up I said “I’ll see you in a few weeks when I come to Portland for my first treatment.”

She looked into my eyes and said “You know, Rick you will be fine.” I said I know but it felt so good and so familiar to hear those words from her.

I walked out the door but turned around to look back into her room. She had this little smile she used to give me. She looked at me, waved and I’ll never forget it she said “Rick, goodbye, you’ll be fine”.  I said “Goodbye”. I walked back out the door and thought, that was weird and went home thinking no more of it.

A few weeks later my sisters called to tell me my mom had left this earth. She died in her favorite chair watching a Blazer’s game.

My heart was crushed. The pain is still there, but easier.

You’ll be fine.

When I was a kid I had all these rabbits. My mom let me have any animal I wanted as long as I took care of them.

This one year, I was 10, the rabbits got an illness that killed over a dozen of them.

This was my first experience with death and it hurt.

It seems like I was burying rabbits every day and I was tired.

One day I was crying with a dead rabbit in my hand and my mom said, “Ricky, you must bury the bunnies, I can’t do it for you.”

She stood up on the deck with tears running down her face as I buried my bunnies. That moment became a recipe for the rest of my life.

Later in therapy that moment came back to me in a dream.

I realized, God was like my mom. He couldn’t bury my bunnies, I had to do it, but he was there, and weeping for me.

She was my example of His love.

Thank you mom.

Mom, it’s been 15 years and I still get all teary when I think of us. It’s hard to write this without tears running down my face and landing on my computer keys.  I’m a blessed man.

Life is weird and pain isn’t always a bad thing.

You weren't someone who went super deep with me, you didn't have to, you knew God had people coming who would do that for me. You were there to let me know, no matter what "I'd be fine."

I'm thankful that your loss still stings. It means I got to love someone that much and they loved me.

15 long years. I love you mom, so much, the loss of you still hurts and I’m so glad.