"Where there is deep grief, there was deep love…"

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

                                                                 -Isaiah 41:10

The absolute worst day of my adult life came unexpectedly and without any anticipation. It came with a shock so sudden and so great that before I even stepped out of bed, the weight of the world was so heavy and the grief unbearable. 

It came to the tune of a text that read, "Are you okay?" to which I sleepily replied, "Yep." Nothing more, nothing else… I turned over and went back to sleep, completely unaware that the entire world was falling a part for everyone I loved. I woke up an hour later to 31 missed calls, more texts that read, "You need to call me," and "It's important, answer your phone!" 

I don't know the hell everyone else went through while I selfishly slept on that Sunday morning back in 2012 two hours away from everyone else… but I heard the stories and played it all out in my head how I imagine it all went. The hell, for me, started about an hour after she died with a single conversation that woke me up and immediately I knew something was so wrong. 

I remember waking up to the buzzing of my phone under my pillow… and seeing "Mother Hen" flash across the screen. The name I put in for my mom's number in a way I thought was clever… I answered the phone with a typical, "Hello," and my brother's voice answered back saying, "It's Toby," to which I snapped back with, "What do you want?" as I was almost positive he was going to bust me for sleeping in and skipping church. He didn't call me out or ask why I hadn't answered anyone's calls but rather just calmly said the most haunting words as if he had done it a thousand times, "Grandma died."

I don't know if I could ever forget that conversation, all of it, every word and every detail is ingrained into my memory… from me yelling at him, "You're lying. Stop lying. You're not funny!" From the quiver in his voice saying, "She died, Tedi. She didn't make it. She just died in Sunday School," to me begging him to let me talk to our mom, to him telling me that I needed to come home and to him telling me exactly what happened. I remember it all, literally… as if it was yesterday. 

Tori and Grandma in 1998 

Almost immediately, stories flooded my head, memories that seemed so real that I could of sworn I could of touched them… those memories stained then with grief as I was haunted by the fact that what was would never be again. Those stories of my grandma chasing my siblings and I around every summer growing up, to days of going out to her swimming pool where I first learned to swim and where we followed the golden rule, "You can't swim after you eat." It was her that taught me to hold my breath under water, how to open my eyes without goggles, and how to do the "deadman's float." I remembered the days of playing kickball, where my older sister and brother would team up and leave me to have to pick my grandma… I loved that woman to death, but she was no good at playing sports. She wasn't very fast, always got out, and always made me run the bases for her. She was silly though, would throw frisbees with me, and taught me how to smile through it all. 

I know I am who I am because of the grandma I had, who taught me about strength, faith, courage, hope, joy, and love… who taught me to embrace the red hair, to always look your best, and to show up even when you don't feel like it. She convinced me that peppermint made you smarter, that car windows were meant to be rolled down, and it isn't Christmas unless there's decorations everywhere. There's no doubt in my mind that the lady I called grandma was the best to ever walk this earth… and twenty-one years was just not enough time. 

It was her who constantly told me how smoking was the worst, who reminded me that I was loved, who always made sure there was her homemade spaghetti on the stove, candy on the coffee table, and the famous Vess soda in the fridge. 

The best memories of all were the days every summer, when we sat around the kitchen table, snacking on lemon cookies as she helped me memorize bible verses, paying special attention to make sure I grasped the meanings… She loved lemon cookies and while it will never be the same without her here to share them with me, part of me knows that she has to be looking down smiling whenever I rip open a package.

Part of me thinks she liked being "GG" 

more than she liked being grandma

I remembered the vacation my whole family took just two weeks before she passed away, the last time I saw her, the last moment I saw her when I jumped out of the van and ran to wrap my arms around her neck before she walked inside the building she had just moved into. I remembered the conversation I had when I told her, "I'll be back in three weeks, don't miss me too much!" She died the week before I would come home… something I still regret and have not accepted. Why did I not quit my job the week before? Why did I not pick up my phone once to call her the day before she died? Why was I so self absorbed that I had no idea her last night was her last? When I came home the week before for a day trip to surprise my mom for her birthday, why did I not just call her or go see her? 

I remembered those holidays where we would gather around her tiny kitchen and make pies and mess up recipes, and when she would end up kicking me out of the kitchen nearly every single occasion? I remember the last holiday dinner, where she said, "Sorry Tedi, trying just isn't enough," before she told me I had to go watch TV instead of helping. I miss sitting on her couch and watching that TV, the old shows she loved… or playing with her nativity scene that she would pull out every year. When I was in middle school, I started asking her to put things in her will for me… so by the time I was 18 or 19, I would just comment saying I liked a new decoration or picture or something and she would laugh and say, "Don't worry, I'll make sure I put that in the will too." 

summer of 2012

She was kind. and gentle. and sweet. She loved me a lot and I knew it, never questioned it, and always knew I had a place to go when I needed it. Even after I learned to drive, whenever a storm would roll in, I would jump in the car and drive to grandma's where she would have food waiting for me and a seat on the couch saved where we could watch the storm together. She was the sassiest, most loving, and most faithful woman I had ever met. She loved me well, cheered me on my entire life, and always made sure I stayed out of trouble. 

Three years has seemed like decades, but not a day has gone by that I don't wonder what life would be like had she still been here. What jokes would she have told. What stories would she say. What lessons would she teach. What ways would she have loved.

The day she left us was the day when I think I needed her the most, I needed her then… I still need her now. The loss doesn't go away… or somehow lessen with time… it's still just as deep and as raw as it was three years ago. The memories help but the grief is strange, it comes on sometimes just as suddenly as her passing… that's the only way I can describe it. Some days are good, where I can remember her laughter or the little quirks she had with a smile and hope… but other days are unbearable where I feel like my family will never be complete without her. 

For everyone that knew her, the truth of her love cannot even be put into words… she loved with her actions and with her words and with her whole being. She loved so well… and I miss that the most. 

...the last project she made me; the first thing I see every morning

 and the thing that comforts me the most

The most important thing she ever taught me was apparent in the way she lived her life and also in her death, where she chose to serve God selflessly and fully, putting Him first and foremost in her life. As my brother said three years ago on his Facebook page, "My grandma walked into Sunday School this morning to learn more about Jesus. Just a few short minutes later, she was able to see him in person. We will always love & miss you, Doris A. Murphy." 

Most of all, I hope Heaven has lemon cookies… and maybe just maybe, for old time's sake, she rips a package open when she sees me do the same and remembers the best days of my life. 

1928-2012

What a life. What a testimony. What a lady. 

She is missed. 

I never noticed that Cain killed Abel…

I never used to give much thought to the stories found in the Old Testament other than the days when I was six years old in my Sunday best and had no idea about anything other than my ruffled socks… back to the days of Sunday School and lectures and long sermons before Sunday dinners. Those stories were just something I grew up listening to with such a childlike innocence that they became normal, I became desensitized and never gave them much thought. They were always a part of the story I grew up believing… 

God created the world.
He made Adam.
He made Eve.
The sun.
The ocean.
The land.
Animals.
Everything else.

Not in that order, but somewhere in seven days all those things came to life.

Adam sinned, Eve was a little jerk and was manipulative and she led him to do it. The serpent was the devil or something, he talked and convinced her to do it… which is totally weird, but normal because I first heard this when I was five and that's how the story goes. They sinned, they saw that they were naked, it was awful, they tried to hide from God… then they were kicked out of the garden and now I have killer cramps every month. I paraphrase well. Long story short, Eve was a woman and women tend to be have problems saying, "No," to food. I like to think about it as chocolate… I can say, "No," fairly easily to apples… but not to brownies, so it helps me relate to her.

Later there was a flood. Noah saved the animals two by two. Elijah went into the heavens on a chariot. There was a bush on fire. Jonah got swallowed by a whale, people got turned into salt, Abraham almost chopped up his son, crazy stuff happened. That's my point.

It all became ingrained into my mind and faith that I never truly thought about it, I always took it as truth. I never questioned it. Never tried to relate. Never identified with the suffering of these people, I never recognized them as people, but rather as pawns or characters in a story… completely separate from me.

For some reason, tonight, my mind was elsewhere and I got to thinking… not truly about any of those stories listed above, but about the story of Cain and Abel. Two brothers. One good, one bad… murdering the other. Everyone knows the story. We're talking about homicide here, of blood… of family killing family, not a friend or drug dealer or random person, we're talking about Cain murdering Abel out of anger, out of jealousy, out of envy. Killing him, taking his life, murder. That's what this story is about.

I grew up knowing this story so well that I never thought about it. Is that not the worst story you have ever heard? A brother killed his brother… the only way I could possibly imagine it (since I only have one brother) was imagining one of my sisters killing the other or killing me or me killing one of them. What? No. That is simply unbelievable. It's not even fathomable… it hurts to think about.

When I was about 15 or 16 years old, I remember being so angry at my sister that teachers and our friends in high school staged an intervention because we went for THREE whole weeks without talking. They put us in the same room and forced us to actually address the situation… what were we mad about? By the time it got to that point, my soccer coach laughed as he drug me by my shirt into his room because neither one of us could remember the initial fight. We beat the hell out of each other, we got up, we hugged it out, we cried, and we were back to being sisters. BUT never in my entire life do I EVER remember a time where I thought, "I should kill her." There's been times when I said out of annoyance, "I'm going to kill you," which again usually happened after she ate my ice cream or brownie or refused to drive me somewhere, but after 30 seconds I was over it and never could I even think about taking her life.

Don't get me wrong, my family can piss me off like no other. My sisters drive me crazy, they're way overprotective sometimes and treat me like I'm nine years old going off for the first time to a sleepover… I hate it when they tell me what to do or laugh at me as if I'm an idiot… but I love them and could never imagine life without them or anger big enough for me to take their lives. I cannot do it, I cannot even think it.

How could Cain do that? Why would he do that? Why has this never mattered to me before? Why have I always skipped over this without any thought? It's murder and I wrapped my head around it as if I was talking about Cain giving Abel candy.

How does this happen?

This weekend, I was once again reminded of the horrors associated with being a part of this world… where Christians were gunned down for their faith. It's inconceivable. Christians. No, actually… I won't even go there because it is unbelievable for me to think about ANYONE being gunned down whether you are five years old in the middle of your kindergarten classroom or twenty-two sitting in a lecture hall at a community college, whether you are white, black, whatever… christian, muslim, atheist, anything. Why does this happen? Again and again and again…

If I was to write a book about the experiences and tragedies that we all face in the world right now, would anyone believe it in a hundred years? In 2,000 years? Would they become so detached from today that they simply would be stories, characters without meaning or life or substance? Would their lives matter? Does Abel's life matter today? 

Did Abel's life ever matter? What about the twenty six people who were killed at Sandy Hook or in the movie theaters? In classrooms? In shopping centers? In streets? In cities across the world? Do the people of Syria not matter? As a person, as people, as a nation, how do we not stop this nonsense, how do we justify ignoring murders, of senseless acts of violence, of hurt, of suffering?

I was told last week that death is natural… but I refuse to believe that there is anything natural about saying, "Yes, I am a christian," and being shot for it. There is nothing natural about offering a sacrifice to God and being killed for it. There is nothing natural about having to teach our children intruder drills so they won't be gunned down in rooms with letters and numbers on brightly colored posters. There is nothing natural about being afraid to go to work, of being pulled over, or having your child killed while they watch a movie. 

I usually have point to the things I write, but truthfully, I don't tonight. I wish murder wasn't a part of the world we live in, I wish people didn't have to live in fear, and more than anything, I can only pray that I would have enough courage and strength to stand up and say, "I am a Christian," even if a gun was pointed at me. 

I refuse to believe that I live in a world where these things are common… when will the good eventually outshine the evil? At one point do these stories become as routine as Cain killing Abel? Will we eventually stop even noticing, even caring, even being affected by the killing of innocent lives? As a human race, we owe it to our children and their children and their children, to make these stories become so obsolete that they don't even exist in the context we know them in, to be known just like Cain and Abel, but to be so uncommon that our children cannot fathom and comprehend their impact.