Lessons learned from my greatest teacher.

For most of you, it isn’t news that my mother-in-law, Linda passed away late last Thursday night. It was definitely bittersweet. On one hand, we would have kept her with us forever if we could have, and on the other it was pretty obvious it was her time.

Linda battled, and I mean battled cancer for the last five years. She was diagnosed with colon cancer the day Alex turned two. The same day we found out Alex would be a big brother. We knew it was bad from the beginning. I prayed she would make it long enough to meet our new baby. Not only did Linda meet Meredith she watched her grow from a sweet baby, to a curious toddler, to a tiny ballerina on a huge stage.

When we heard the word, cancer, I hoped Linda would still be able to enjoy Alex as much as she did the first two years of his life. By now, you know just how serious he is, and no matter what, Grandma could make him laugh. He’s was annoyed after the fact, but she could make him smile wider than almost anybody. She also not only accepted Alex’s strong dislike for having his picture taken, she embraced his protest expression and deemed it his “fish face.” He was allowed to look sour in pictures and she loved it!

Linda enjoyed Alex and his amazing brain until the end. Grandma still made spelling test prep more fun than I ever knew possible even while hooked up to a chemo pump. Linda would drag herself out of her chair the minute Meredith burst in their back door yelling, “Grwama! I’m here!” Our children were so blessed to have Linda even if it was for only a few short years.

You know something interesting? We went through a lot of genetic counseling prior to starting our family. Most of you know Brandon’s sister and first cousin both have Down syndrome. While it isn’t thought to be genetic, our odds seemed higher than most. When Brandon and I met with the geneticist, he suggested we start having children soon and to close up shop by the time we reached 30. Wow! We were 25. It was a little scary. But, we took a leap of faith and now I wonder if God didn’t nudge us so Linda would have more time with her grandchildren.

Losing his mom has been particularly hard for Brandon. He travels so much for work, that her illness wasn’t as much a part of his daily life as it was for me. I saw Linda three or four days a week and knew what the future likely held. I was prepared. Brandon wasn’t. I think Linda’s death came as somewhat of a shock to him. Linda never complained. Sometimes she was “tired,” but that was it. Brandon’s dad, made it seem as though everything would be okay, she just needed one more treatment. Men have a different way of dealing with death. Families have different ways of dealing with illnesses. I was prepared and I did my grieving slowly and gradually, so when the time came I mostly felt a sense of peace for Linda.

Of course I’m sad and I’ll miss her deeply, but I know she’s no longer in pain and she’s finally free to rest. I loved her enough to let go.

I wasn’t always easy to get along with. I had to learn how to accept guidance and helpful suggestions. I had to learn that an e-mail with 50 additional activities to do while visiting a particular city wasn’t an attempt to control my trip, but was a loving message to soak up all I could. Saying my lasagna was so great and would be really beautiful with fresh parsley chopped coarsely on top, was Linda’s way of guiding me and sharing what she knew.

Brandon gently told me about three years into our marriage that I was the first fully capable “daughter” Linda had to raise. It wasn’t that Linda didn’t love her own daughter with all her might, it was that she knew Kylene would likely never teach a little one to read or set a table for a baby shower. Linda accepted me as a daughter. I had to learn to what that meant to her. I came from the house of “You’re almost 12! What do you mean you don’t know how to make a meatloaf for crying out loud?!” Not that I don’t now appreciate my own mother’s insistence on raising me with a strong sense of self-sufficiency, but it was a new school of thought to which I had to adjust. I wish I had been a better student and had more time to learn.

I started to panic yesterday when I realized I would never have Linda’s chili again. I wished I’d watched her make salsa. I laughed when I thought about her easy approach to baking and how she once artfully squirted whipped cream around the edges of a pumpkin pie that pulled away from its sides. I cried when I realized no one will be there to make a green bean casserole at holidays and let Kylene take all the credit.

It will be little day to day things that will make me both miss Linda and remember her. Case in point, Alex came up with a way for me to stitch his beloved blanket, Green back together. He explained how I could cut out the bad sections and simply sew the sides together. The words, “We’ll just take it to Grandma…” tumbled out of my mouth without even thinking.

The kids are doing fine. Thanks for asking. Alex is very stoic and told me tonight, he tries to cry, but just can’t. He firmly believes Grandma is in Heaven and is whole again. Meredith told me she’s not going to be sad because Grandma said not to be sad. She picked today to follow directions.

Linda didn’t want anyone to be sad. She didn’t want a service of any kind. She was cremated and didn’t want “any fuss.” Brandon’s dad has planned a memorial service for her on Friday. I’m a little concerned over the list of power ballads I see on the list to accompany the slide show, but it’ll make me laugh secretly and be a little less sad when I hear them and that’s exactly what Linda would want.