Hearing the News and the First Two Weeks

This first post is going up just past the two-week anniversary of Morgan’s death.  Grammar will not be correct in this post.  It is my memories as they appeared as I began journaling and this is the public version, where some items and some details have been left out completely.  I’m pretty sure subsequent posts will be a great deal shorter. In case you missed it before you arrived here (however you found out), subscriptions are either free or paid.  There is no difference to what you’ll see or be able to comment.  100% of my proceeds from the paid goes to charity; currently Graces of Gurley where I have volunteered since 2020.  https://gracesofgurley.org/

Nothing can prepare you for when you hear that your loved one has passed away unexpectedly, especially when the hospital staff had repeatedly said she’d be fine.   I collapsed into a heap on the floor and cried out “no” continuously for I really don’t know how long. It was unreal. I was then allowed to go be with her where I kissed and hugged her, cried, stunned, perhaps I got ahold of the first people.  The timeline and memories are actually pretty fuzzy. 

The hospital staff tells you things, but it is impossible to retain any information at all.  One of my sisters took care of calling the hospital back and having them repeat to her what they’d told us.  She also took care of making the arrangements to get our son a flight from his location several states away to Huntsville where we live.  I also asked that she keep checking in with him and she did that as well. Her taking that on at that time will forever be appreciated          

Morgan passed away December 23rd, two days before Christmas, the busiest travel season, with many delayed flights due to a cold snap hitting the midwest, east, and south, along with the annual holiday snafus.  The fact there was a seat even available getting him here in a reasonable amount of time was truly a huge blessing.

The people I had contacted to pray when I first learned she had been taken to a hospital were contacted again while I was in agony waiting to hear if she could be saved or not, when her body made the abrupt change the medical staff had not expected.  I was begging them to pray and contacting other people to pray as well. A stranger in the waiting room they’d taken me to, as well as a hospital employee, also offered prayer. 

I can say I have not felt anger at God for even one second.  There are additional details I will not share, but I felt the strength to exist, perhaps not have my own stroke or heart attack, due to the prayers I knew were happening.  Her best friends knew she was in the hospital and were also praying during this waiting period because we had been communicating earlier about them coming to visit her.

From the moment she passed on, picture a vice being clamped onto your heart.  It’s tight, it’s heavy, and for me, thoughts just raced.  It remained unreal, even though I had to walk, contact initial people, who took over contacting others that needed to know.  I didn’t care who heard me crying loudly, bawling if you will.  Being discreet was not a consideration.  Raw grief with a clamp on the heart every single second not letting up -ever.

In this next section, as I speak of Rocks, it has to do with chronological order, not degree of “being a rock.”

We spent an hour or two with Rock number 1, one of Morgan’s best friends, at Morgan’s apartment who blessed us with her love while simultaneously sharing her own grief.  She and Morgan’s other closest friends (now all being referred to as Rock 1) had been in touch with each other and offered their assistance for anything we needed.  There were practical considerations of setting up the taking care of two kittens Morgan had rescued earlier in the summer, as well as contacting her employer, and various other things they intuitively took care of for us.  I do not see how we could even have been able to leave Birmingham to get to our home without them, and we needed to go home, where our own friends could love on us.  We have no family close by.  This kind of sacrificial giving, while grieving themselves, was astonishing.  I didn’t know people like this even existed.  I can’t imagine how much worse everything would have been without them.

I called Rock number 2 on my way home to Huntsville.  I’d been crying much of the way home, but knew this person would be a Rock, and I’d not survive without her. I knew she’d step up in any way she was able.  I gave her the devastating information and her first reaction was also the denial of my reality.  The tears began to flow, and she listened to the few details I could muster. I felt a cramp forming underneath my heart, more like on a rib, and I wasn’t scared it was a heart attack, but it was physical (probably the beginning of dehydration) and I told her about it and that I needed to calm down and drive carefully so we hung up.

I arrived home, and perhaps this is where people who do not trust in, rely on, look to God, believe in his omnipotence and love, or at least have people communicating with them who do, turn to drugs or alcohol to relieve the pain.  It enters your mind that you need something to numb this unbearable vice on your heart.  But turning to those temporary measures was not a consideration for me.  I enjoy alcohol socially in a happy environment, so turning to it for comfort was not even on my radar.

This is a pretty good description of the way my heart felt at that time: It was as though a vice had been attached to my heart and cranked so that it was at its tightest.  It wasn’t physical. I was not afraid of a heart attack, although there were times my heart raced, and I could tell my pulse was high.  I believe this was also probably dehydration.  No matter what I drank, it wasn’t enough to keep up with tears and stress, which are apparently dehydrating.

Beginning at home Friday night is where the additional people that God chose to take care of me stepped in. In addition to Rock 1 who stayed in contact with me that evening and night, other rocks began their willing roles.  These are the rocks that seem to do everything right; everything you need at the exact moment you need it.  Rock 3 just happened to call me out of the blue that night, and when I saw her name I picked up.  I had not called her previously because even though I considered her my best friend here, the friendship was still relatively new as we’d both moved to Huntsville from other areas.  This was obviously not a lifelong friend, and I didn’t want to burden her until after Christmas.  She was jolly when I answered asking how we were surviving the cold snap.  When I didn’t answer, Rock 3 said, “Joanie?”  I still couldn’t speak.  “Joanie, what’s wrong?”  Then the dam burst and I told her.  She also used denial words and cried immediately as her heart broke for me.  She had never met Morgan.  After I told her, she told me she had texted that question to everyone else in the friend group, but had decided to call me.  Had she texted, I would not have answered, and Rock 3 was invaluable right away.

Rock 3 showed up at my door the next morning with Chicken and Rice enchiladas.  I had literally been in the middle of texting her, telling her that she didn’t need to worry about the fact that this was now Christmas Eve and tomorrow Christmas; that this year Morgan hadn’t planned to spend those two exact days with us anyway, so as much of a hole as there was, it wasn’t an added dimension to the grief.  As I was texting it, she knocked on the door. WOW!  She gave me a giant hug and we cried. She gave me the food and I talked to her for maybe five minutes.  She was the first to acknowledge and remind me that in my pain, I did get to communicate with her alive.  It was better than receiving a call that she died after the fact, and it make me thankful that had not been the case.  She also reminded me that Morgan had been happy.  She had fallen in love in late 2021 with who she had thought was her “Mr. Right,” and it was nice that she’d gotten to experience that before she passed.  That notion also helped.  As she was leaving, Rock 3 said, “if you need anything at all, I am here.”  I knew what she had going on for Christmas from previous conversations and I knew she meant it and that it wouldn’t inconvenience her if I asked for anything.

Rock 4 was my prayer warrior.  She was the first I texted when I found out Morgan was in the hospital, the first I texted when the situation suddenly became dire, and she was the first to know that Morgan had passed.  Rock 4 always had the phone by her side and always texted that she was on it with prayer groups even in distant locations.  Rock 4 set up the delivery of food, never stopped asking or suggesting things that we might need, but was not pushy or overbearing in any way.  It was a perfect balance for me. She was the one who set up sessions with the grief counselor whom I saw on Monday and Friday – very beneficial.  Rock 4 happened to text me on Christmas giving me a loving message, and it came in at 8:33am.  Only 48 hours earlier, my baby girl had died at exactly 8:32 am.  I was in the midst of being crushed in grief with the memories and pain, and God used Rock 4 at that exact moment to let me know He is in the details. I was really starting to get it.

All four Rocks called and texted, received and answered my calls and texts very quickly no matter when I got ahold of them.  A lot of times I wanted to text and not talk.  Doing it continually helped process the reality of the death I guess.

These four Rocks (and one additional to be mentioned shortly) do everything and anything you’ll ask, and you can feel their love holding you up.  I was incredulous that some people can be so wonderful, and actually felt a bit of guilt for knowing I may not have been wonderful to other people who have grieved in the past.  I also felt, and still do, that I don’t want to ask for too much, or to be a burden.

On Christmas Day itself, every single person who had been praying or had any knowledge of what I must be experiencing, either didn’t text or call and wish me happy tidings, or if they did text or call and say the initial “Merry Christmas” they followed it up with words of care and encouragement.  Some people who knew did not have the forethought that this was not a Christmas like any other, business as usual so to speak, and proceeded to do something insensitive, as if they did not realize the seriousness of what had just happened.  The vice was still gripping my heart tightly nonstop, but now a knife had been inserted and twisted.  I think I might have gone into complete shock for a minute, but then not audibly, but within my soul, I heard the words “Forgive them for they know not what they do.”  Some of you reading this recognize when Jesus said these words, others of you don’t and it is easy to find what they mean and who He was saying it about.  The comparison was not lost on me.   I knew at some point I would forgive these people, but the hurt and anger at their insensitivity left me incredulous and full of hatred on top of my grief. Please know that anybody who had no knowledge of my situation and wished me Merry Christmas, it did not affect me like that.  How could I be angry at them when they didn’t know?  It was actually nice just knowing that they thought of me period; not knowing I had just lost a child.

I called Rock 2 and screamed into the phone at her about this on Christmas Day.  She tried to calm me, but I could not be calmed.  I just wanted her to take this additional pain away. This is when Rock 5 stepped in and has been there for me as much as the others.

On Monday, I’d texted a good friend from high school who I was still in contact with, had visited with recently when she went out of her way to see me in October on an RV adventure she had been in the midst of, and knew she would want to know the tragic news to be able to support me.  She asked if I’d like others from my past to contact me and I said sure - the people you know who care about me.  On Tuesday morning I received a great amount of texts and calls and love.  It was God using these old friends to replace the hatred I was feeling, with gratitude for the love and care I was being shown. At the same time, Rock 1 and Morgan’s other closest friends, all affiliated with Birmingham Beach Volleyball, posted a beautiful tribute on their social media pages.  I was sent screenshots by Rock 1’s twin Rock (both are Rock 1 at this point along with one additional person.)  The knife was easing out and I was getting somewhat relieved of this additional stress. Some of the beach volleyball coaches Morgan had had in Cincinnati were friends with Birmingham Beach Volleyball on facebook.  They immediately got in touch with us bawling and letting us know how much she had been loved and how much she’ll be missed.  They immediately said they were going to set up a Memorial Tournament in her honor and start a scholarship in her honor for “the kid that shows the heart to get every bit of herself.”  They also offered to set up a GoFundMe which I declined.

From Christmas through Tuesday night when there was resolution to the insensitivities and aftereffects, I seriously wondered for a second and prayed to God, that there is no way He might call me home now, too, don’t do that to my husband and son, although I personally wouldn’t mind going.  I prayed to let me do the right things to take care of myself, so I didn’t die of the repercussions of a broken heart.  This included trying to sleep, which I was mostly unable to do, and to stay hydrated.  I happened to have Pedialyte popsicles in the freezer and when a friend suggested Pedialyte, I remembered those, and they really helped a lot.

I was able to mourn for only Mo then on Wednesday.  I could not stop crying.  I could not get out of bed.  I didn’t want to see anybody.  I listened to Lauren Daigle station on Pandora and the words of many of the songs, especially hers, comforted me.  I was still only getting 3-5 hours of choppy sleep a night and that night was no different with the morning being hardest from 6-8:32 am.  As more and more people from my past and present heard what happened through the grapevine, words of comfort from afar continued to come in.  Each and every one was healing.  If you feel even an inkling to get in touch with a grieving person, do it.  That inkling is from God, and that person needs you even if you are just saying three words.  God uses people to be his hands and feet. Listen to Him.

I called and texted with Rock 5 late at night because she was a night owl.  I called and texted Rock 2 early in the morning because she was up as well. It also helped these people are on EST while I was in CST.

Even though I’d had little sleep, I was a new person when I woke up on Thursday and I was not dehydrated.  Rock 3 and another friend of our’s had offered to take me for a walk to get me out of the house and get some fresh air.  I took Rock 3 up on this and we walked and talked for two hours and I didn’t cry the entire time.  I was feeling like a complete 180 from how I had felt on Wednesday.  My heart still had the vice, the knife had been removed, but the vice was letting loose for the first time.

The Thursday night to Friday morning was another night of little sleep. I got hungry, and meals that had been given were already eaten, didn’t sound appealing at the time, or would take even a tiny amount of preparation and I didn’t want to.  I texted Rock 4 and just said something like, “cookies, snacks, something I can eat in the middle of the night.”  When she awoke the next morning, she said she’d be on it, and of course was, delivering a big box of the goodies and sympathy cards signed by people who had contributed and love me.  They have helped when hunger strikes and sleep to an extent, but probably not my waist.

Each of the nights transitioning into mornings, I would feel such frustration when I’d wake up, try not to check the time, but ultimately would, and see how little time had passed.  Upon waking each time, my brain ignited and off to the races it went with everything from memories of her life, reliving both the experience from the “she’s in the hospital phone call” to being rushed out of her room when she required sudden emergency measures to keep her alive. I’d remember other people who needed to know she passed, thoughts about how to proceed and make meaning of her death to honor her going forward.  Anybody that really knew her, knew how driven she was to reach her goals.  She was always planning the moves to achieve her goals and working the current plan she’d created.  The beach volleyball court was her happy place, and no matter how busy she was or what she was doing, she’d also find a way to be out there.

I think this is the morning I cleaned the house for two hours.  Dog hair had accumulated, dishes had piled up, the counters needed scrubbed down, toilets cleaned.  I did it all and seeing the results was nice for all of us.  I got to see the therapist in the afternoon, which helped immensely again.  I talked and texted with a lot of people the rest of the day until I tried for sleep again.

Saturday was a new turning point.  I got out of the house again and took the dog for a long walk while listening to two distinct videos.  Both had been saved to my YouTube playlists weeks or months earlier.  One I’d listened to previously and the other not.

The first was about a NDE (Near Death Experience) of a woman who was 32 when it had happened, but it was her recalling it all, now, many years later. Over the years, I’d get into a fixation with this topic for a week or so and either read books (prior to the internet) or watch or listen to videos posted on YouTube now. Many times I delete saved videos after I’ve listened to them, but I had not deleted this one.  The way she described her experience, it was easy for me to see that Morgan’s might have been similar while she was making the transition.  I hoped it was so.  I will talk more about this on some later post and include the link.

The other one was a Jordan Peterson clip; a long one, and I only got halfway through.  It was also extremely meaningful to me.  I’d been listening to JP since 2016 or 2017.  JP is a brilliant psychologist from Canada, who gained notoriety when he made an innocuous political podcast. The fallout from that launched him into the public eye, however, he had done brilliant work all his life.  He created Maps of Meaning, which I’d never looked at, and he had lectured about the psychological meaning of many stories in Genesis, the first book of the Bible.  I loved those lectures and listened to some of them multiple times on daily walks.  It was so interesting to understand these Bible stories have this psychological aspect to them that only a great mind like his could interpret.  I don’t agree with everything he thinks.  He doesn’t seem to yet fully understand that although these psychological implications are in all the Bible stories throughout all 66 books, that the ultimate one, Jesus Christ, was literally Emmanuel, God with Us, not only the ultimate archetype.  He is so brilliant in his field that of course he could not be equally brilliant in other fields, such as apologetics.  There is an abundance of historical evidence for Jesus Christ as God with Us.  Everything from the fulfilled prophesies pointing to Him – way too many over time – that only he could be, to the aftereffects once he was crucified and how it dramatically changed the world.

I’m not linking the JP one either but there will be more posts about his views and interpretations.

The other thing that happened on this walk was that two male millennials acknowledged me when I walked by. This is no longer a given with this age group, but greeting a stranger with either a smile, a wave, or a few words about the weather is something I have always done.  It’s always extra nice when the other person either does it first or responds to me.  Both of these young men acknowledged me.  I had just lost my daughter, was out in the world now, and wanted to be seen.  I will have more to say on this subject in future posts as well.

Before Morgan died, plans had already been penciled in to watch my OSU Buckeyes with Rock 3 and her husband and any other of our friend group who wanted to join, at a great sports bar in Huntsville called the Brass Tap.  Of course I would not be doing that, but I still wanted to watch the game with them, to finally distract myself from nonstop brain activity centering on Morgan. Rock 3 said we could go out or I could come to her place, whatever I desired.  I chose the latter and looked forward all day to being there.  I knew I would drink for the first time, (happy, social occasion) but I didn’t know how the alcohol would affect me since my lack of sleep, stress, grief, etc.  It went perfectly fine.  It was a fun, very close, very competitive game that kept me engaged and even though the Bucks lost, they played so well that they didn’t seem like losers to me.

My new normal was beginning.  I could feel it happening.  I had high hopes to sleeping well that night, but unfortunately, even with some alcohol in my system and one and one half benedryl, I still woke after only two and half hours.  I stayed awake awhile but eventually fell back asleep and was so relieved when I woke up and had slept through the 6-832 am witching hours. Rock 3 had asked if I’d be interested in taking home two kinds of soup she had made extra of for us.  I said yes, as my husband especially loves soup, but I forgot to take it home.

On Sunday morning (New Year’s Day), I texted with Rock 2, as I did every morning, and then Rock 3’s husband and another friend dropped the soup and other food on our back porch for us. It was welcome.  We’d gone through almost everything by then and cooking was still a chore.  A word of advice to those who want to help the grieving.  Even when they turn you down and say they have enough food, do it anyway.  They do have enough food in the house very likely, but normal things you eat are too much effort to cook or don’t sound appetizing.  It’s so nice to heat up someone else’s home cookin’ (in the South, these people know how to cook!) I understand clearly now how offering food to the grieving is more than a tradition.

So Sunday, after texting with Rock 2, I began this journal and then I took the dog for another long walk on a beautiful, sunny, 70 degree day.  The path I took was busy as so many other people had the same idea.  I was struck again at how being acknowledged and chatting it up with a couple people had a positive impact on me.  I journaled, texted with new people who had just heard the news, and watched a movie.  That takes us to another night of little sleep, even eating snacks hoping my blood sugar would make me sleepy enough.  I’m taking the snacks away for tonight. They don’t do the trick anymore and make me feel gross for having done it.  

It’s Monday morning January 2nd right now, with less than a half hour to go before it is 8:32. We’ll see how the day goes, but I can tolerate the new normal.  It is sad.  The thoughts NEVER stop, but I’m allowing myself distractions now.  I’m coming up with plans to make her death bring positive things into the world, as she would have done if she were still alive.  She was a beautiful and wonderful daughter with so much potential ahead of her.

It is now late Tuesday evening as I’m typing this. I took the dog for a walk in a spot where I wouldn’t run across as many people as Monday.  I didn’t want to put on the smile or make small talk.  It was still a beautiful sunny and warm day and I knew I needed to take advantage of it.  I ran across one of the students and her parents of the organization, Graces of Gurley, specifically the Jacob’s Ladder Junior program, that I volunteer in.  We waved and greeted each other, and I knew they had no idea that I’d just lost Mo.  Many of the students had signed a sympathy card for me the previous Wednesday that I’d received in the mail, which was extremely touching.  This girl’s name had not been signed, so the fact they “acted normal” was not upsetting.  I know people are going to act normal and I know other people are going to treat me with kid gloves at least for a while.

Where some people may not want to be treated any different, I for some reason do.  I like people to see me and acknowledge my pain and see the empathy in their eyes and speech.  I again see God in these interactions, saying, I know you are still hurting and I’m still with you.

We left for Birmingham to see Rock 1 which now consists of the three people who had been Morgan’s closest friends there.  As I stated before, they were invaluable taking care of practical things that needed to be done and all of us wanted to share good memories of Morgan together over a meal.  It was a very nice time and we will never forget their love and assistance.  To give an example of how we each affect each’s other’s lives, even strangers, a la the ripple effect of the NDE clip I’ll be sharing some day, one of the Rock 1 participants shared this story. (Updated now from original post after contacting this person to make sure I had the details right).  He is an uber driver as a part time gig in addition to his full time job.  He likes to be busy, and as a Bible Believing Christian, he also sees it as his way of reaching people by positive interaction. On the Friday night Morgan passed, he decided to uber as a distraction to his grief. He’d decided that he would honor her by saying some version of “Tell those you love you love them.  Reach out to people you haven’t talked to and tell them you’re thinking about them.” It was the fifth or sixth passenger whose story he told us. About three minutes in, Rock 1 said the spiel and told him not to feel singled out; that he was saying it to all of his passengers that night.  The man was silent.  Rock 1 said, “you okay man?” The man turned to him with tears in his eyes and said he had to make a phone call, so Rock 1 also turned the radio way down. What was obviously said from the other end was, “Who is this?”  The man answered, “It’s your son, it’s X.”  The man broke down and said, “Dad, I wanted to tell you I love you.  I haven’t told you in a while.  What do we do to rectify this?”  This man told this Rock that he had not spoken to his father in five years but that the comment had stirred something in him.  As the man got out, he mouthed the words “Thank you.”

That was and is chilling to me. We also found out that through those weird “we’re all connected through 6 degrees of separation” played out, one of the trio of Rock 1 had been told by her boyfriend I think, that his friend, who lives in a different state has a girlfriend or neighbor who had been inconsolable upon hearing about somebody’s death.  It turned out that the person she was crying about was Morgan.  I went to bed as soon as I got home.  I’d slept in the car maybe about a half hour, but still only wanted and needed sleep.

Once again, I took a Benadryl and going to sleep was easy.  Waking only two hours later was again frustrating.  I ate some of the chocolate that had been gifted and it put me to sleep again.  This process repeated a time or two, but I slept the most I had since her passing, probably a total of 6 or 7 hours.

One of my newer friends reached back out to me by text again just to tell me she loves me and that I can always contact her even in the middle of the night. She was up late a lot.  This friend had faced the same tragedy many years prior. I had once heard of her story but not directly from her.  She offered love and assistance and I realized she would be a good ear at some point.

I texted and told her that if she was up in the middle of the night, to go ahead and reach out and we’d probably text for a while, but if I didn’t text back, that was probably something to be thankful for as it meant I’d be asleep.  We also made a plan to get together some Saturday and share our grief. 

Monday I’d also finally texted another good friend from afar who had texted me happy new year on new year’s eve, who I had not yet notified.  She was living the dream spending the holidays with her family and as a new grandma to three babies in the past year.  I was not about to ruin her holiday, but now that everything was over, I did. 

She immediately texted her condolences and love.

Tuesday morning January 3rd I took the dog for a quick walk in time to beat the upcoming rain.  We both needed it.  I checked in with Rock 2, and Rock 3 checked up on me.  We decided she would come over and help me take down Christmas on Wednesday.  I got ready and then took my son back to the airport in Nashville.  He actually drove and we talked a lot, not so much about Morgan, as we had processed her death continually over the past ten days.  But we talked about his future, listened to music, and the time went by fast.  He has always been an excellent hugger and we both held on even longer than usual as we said our goodbyes.

I forgot to mention that as of this time now counting Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, the tears had dried up.  Or maybe I did cry Saturday. Regardless, it felt strange not to be crying so much anymore.  I had planned to actually talk to a friend who had reached out prior by text, and we’d planned that I’d call while driving back from Nashville.  With the added dimension of the rain, I texted and said we better hold off, so I really just listened to music all the way back.

Home alone.  There was sure plenty that could begin to get taken care of, but I had no desire to do anything.  A work friend who had been the perfect person at the beginning of this tragedy, supporting me by text before most people knew, was willing to talk at any time as well, texted after about a week now to check up on me.  I told her that I felt depressed and that the weather wasn’t helping any, but no tears for some reason.  Again, it was joy for a moment, knowing God was using her to tell me he knows how much it hurts.

I decided to go ahead and call the friend I’d put off calling while driving back from the airport.  This person had suffered a great loss over the holidays back in 2015 and I then found out I did indeed still have tears in my system. Cards, emails, and gifts from people who live elsewhere began arriving. Thank you for thinking of me and sharing in my sorrow.

I was ready to get this rainy, depressing day behind me and went to bed with a Benedryl at 7:30.  So frustrated to wake up at 9:30 already. I have not looked at a single headline of anything going on in the world since Thursday night Dec. 22nd.  Nothing matters.  What will be will be.  I checked substack just to view the inbox for the writers I like to follow. That was where I saw that the young football player from the Buffalo Bills had cardiac arrest out on the field.  He is Morgan’s age, 24.  I felt sad for his family and what they are going through and hoped that people were stepping up to give this family and this player strength. I prayed for them myself. I truly believe the prayers matter.  I know some people say “thoughts and prayers” as a cultural expression of their empathy or sympathy, but the ones who pray to the Almighty God I do with faith, know prayers are vital.  I get that!

I forgot to mention that I also got a text while my son was driving us to Nashville from a friend in Cincinnati.  We’d been very close for several of those years, but subsequently lost touch, especially when I moved away.  For all I knew, she had already expressed her condolences on Mo’s facebook page, which I have not yet checked even though I’ve had her login information for a while.  I just have not been able to do it. It doesn’t seem right.  (I was sent screenshots by two different Rocks)  I know this friend and Mo were friends on facebook.  She called first but I didn’t answer even though I saw who it was.  She then sent a very long text hoping I will call, sharing the situation of her shock and sadness when she heard the tragic news.  She said during those years she’d considered Morgan her second daughter.  The two of us and she and her daughter had a lot of memories together that only the four of us knew about. Those really were happy days and it makes me want to go look at those pictures wherever they may be stored.  I’ve changed phones a few times since then and those transitions put my photos in strange places.  There are probably a few prints somewhere, but I’m sure 99% are digital. I was happy to hear from her and texted back a quick reply that I’d be in touch someday.  She was lovely and had been praying for us a lot.  She is a prayer warrior like my Rock 4.  I don’t know when I’ll call her back.

My boss texted me today to remind me about the EAP (Employee Assistance Program) my company offers.  He was great when he first got my email last week about how much work I’ll be missing, saying take as much time off as I need.  My past and present co-workers who know of my loss are incredible.  One really has to now double her workload, and I had thought I’d be doing a little something right now, mostly as a distraction, but so far I haven’t touched my work computer.  Perhaps I will tomorrow, most likely not until next week.

As I’m writing this entry, it is Thursday morning January 5th.   I did finally sign on to my work email and “worked” for about 30 minutes yesterday. Then I got ready for my Rock 3 to come over and she was a huge help taking down Christmas and storing it away. I am so blessed to have Rock 3 and so many people who care about me in my life.

The weather was again sunny yesterday, so I took our dog for a walk, again on a path where I’d see few people, if any.  I got back and headed off for my next counseling appointment.  I had not cried at all up to this point, and even told my counselor it feels wrong to feel pretty normal today.  I did get choked up when saying it is knowing I will never hear her voice again that puts a pit in my stomach and a missing beat in my heart.  I can’t believe that is the case.  I realized this morning earlier that, duh, it is the prayers I’m sure many people are still praying that are giving me the “peace that passes all human understanding.”  Logically, I should be in a dark closet in a heap on the floor continuously bawling, not able to get on with anything.  But here I am behaving fairly normally.

After the appointment, I had two goals in mind.  I had not yet had my full fill of my comfort food, which is pizza.  I stopped by a place I’d heard recommended and ordered it and said I’d come back to pick it up after my grocery shopping, the other goal.  Both missions accomplished.

Pizza has always been my comfort food.  I got to thinking about it this morning when I couldn’t sleep and remember when I was a kid elementary school age, we would have frozen (baked!) pizza every Sunday night.  It was the cheap Totino’s or whatever, but we’d eat while watching Star Trek I think, which I tolerated but didn’t love like my mom did.  I guess it helped in my adult life when people referred to the various characters or actors who played them.   But pizza represents comfort, family, good times, happy times.  I remember when I lived near my sister in another state before I had a husband or kids.  My one little niece actually would say as I entered the house, “JoanPizza”

After putting everything away, I texted the male of Rock 1 who had told the uber story on Monday night.  I wanted to make sure I had the details right (some I had not). He called back and we ended up on the phone for over an hour I think, talking about our faith, Morgan, and other topics.  He said he thought it was striking when he saw me Monday night for the first time, how much Morgan looked like me.  Now that is truly a complement.  My daughter was physically very pretty.  Way prettier than I ever was at her age.  He also said it feels weird listening to me talk because even though our voices aren’t the same, that my inflections and mannerisms while speaking are exactly hers.  We also discovered when he was retelling the uber story, that the ride described above is listed in his log or whatever as having started at 8:31 pm.  Exactly 12 hours minus 1 minute after she had passed away that morning.  We were awed!

More cards arrived and I am truly so blessed to know so many wonderful people.  Thank you! The rest of the evening was spent with my husband and animals and I went to bed fairly early again, hoping my body was craving additional sleep.  I almost always read before sleeping as it does put me to sleep quite quickly.  This was the first time I picked up a book where I’d left off prior to finding out she’d gone to the hospital.  Sleep was once again only in two hours spurts, but I feel physically rested.

This morning, January 5th, has been spent getting the substack site ready and texting with one of Morgan’s best friends.  I’d been sent screenshots showing the outpouring of sympathy and love to the post we’d had Rock 1 put up for us on facebook. Her long-time friend’s post definitely brought the tears and I could picture them together and remember all the phone calls where she mentioned this friend and how funny she was.  In many ways they didn’t have a lot in common, but they both had/have big hearts and big ambitions that they aimed for and were on the path to succeeding.  She sent me some additional pictures and one of them was so funny I had to get more information.  It was basically another Morgan being blonde story.  So… happy and sad feelings again.  This will be the new normal.  I’m told by others that crushing waves will come into my “peaceful” waters and I dread that.

This is now Sunday morning January 8th.  I’m still waiting for the right time to put this post up which is looking like later today.

On Friday I made a list and started tackling some more of the business-y aspects of Mo’s death.  One thing was to call her boss and let them know I planned to return her computer from her job.  When I called, the phone rang 4 or 5 times and I thought for sure I’d get voicemail, but she picked up.  I got choked up as I identified myself and she was as wonderful as Morgan had described her.  She told of how shocked they all were to hear she’d gone to the hospital and then that she had passed so suddenly.  They thought the world of Morgan and were working with her giving her extra duties that would enhance her chances of getting into PA School, as was her goal.

She said that as soon as their start-up had another infusion of investor money, they, too, plan to start a scholarship in her name for a patient who needs the financial assistance to pay for their program.  It will definitely be one of the recipients if substack subscriptions get rolling.

https://www.northstarcare.com

They want to be notified when the Celebration of Life happens and will try to come.  Very wonderful people. I can see why Morgan thought they were so amazing.

Mo’s phone was almost out of charge and I couldn’t find her charger, so I had to go to the store and buy one.  I called my work to get ahold of HR and the EAP to get that type of thing started.  On Friday I sent both Rock2 and another great friend who’d stayed in touch by text a lot, my first entry to get their feedback.  Rock 2 had some great suggestions which I followed up with.  It was actually the revised version that the close friend then read.

That night my hubby and I had also begun to discuss the date and format we envisioned for her service and tournament.  We settled on trying for April 8th so I got the ball rolling there, contacting Huntsville Parks and Rec to get the sand courts reserved.  Birmingham BVB and Rally, the organization that Huntsville uses to manage those courts, will work together and completely put the co-ed tournament on.  I also contacted most of the people who we would want to speak and we heard back from one right away that yes he does, but he’s checking the date (at this point as I’m writing, we have everybody else for that date so if he has other plans, he’ll have to choose for himself).  Tomorrow I will verify the church works on April 8th and then it’s a done deal for everybody.

Two other speakers agreed, and the ball was definitely rolling. 

I talked to an old friend from Cincinnati for quite a while.  She called and I picked up.  As with all old friends who are sisters in Christ, we picked up right where we’d left off, no awkwardness or anxiety or fear.  We have always accepted each other for our own personalities. It was really nice catching up with her and she plans to come to Huntsville for the service. (This is a different friend that had texted on my way to Nashville.)

Friday had been a pretty decent day, but I was still not sleeping well.  Waking up Saturday, the weather was again dreary.  I’d spent time during the night looking at a lot of pictures of Mo, and I was beginning to feel that unbearable grief.  It was almost as bad as when the vice was clamped onto my heart. I just missed everything about her.

I did our bills and Rock 3 had mentioned previously that her husband was hunting and she was free if I wanted to do anything.  I knew I could either wallow in my grief or try to be distracted.  I called her and let her know and she set it up for us to do some antique stores downtown and eat.  We contacted the other ladies in our group but only one other was able to meet us. Even though I’d felt sad all morning, I had not cried, but that changed on my way over to Rock 3’s house.  All I could think of was Mo and everything was reminding me of her.  I also cried because I was touched by how much this Rock is always there and ready to help me through this.

She drove and did her best to distract me like I’d asked.  When the other lady arrived it was pretty funny because it felt to me like my bra strap was loose and I kept trying to fix it.  When I stood up to get out of the car, I realized my bra had become completely unclasped.  I ducked into the lady’s SUV backseat and fixed my situation. That was a genuine laugh to fix my mood momentarily.

Everything in the antique mall reminded me of Morgan.  We had antiqued together a few times over the past few years for one, but scenes, the conversations we were having, almost everything reminded me of her, and I was not able to stay distracted.  We went to Melt for lunch and I even ordered a bloody Mary in memory of Mo.  That was one of her favorites.  I continued to feel sad inside.  We decided to go to University Pickers, too.  Same feeling.  Just sad sad sad and lots of reminders.  I found homemade thank-you cards, some migraine tea for somebody who needed it, and one of the thank you memento gifts for one of the Rock1 trio.

I spent most of University Pickers a pretty good distance away from my friends.  It was nothing they were doing or saying.  It was just the need to not try to fake being happy or normal any longer.

At Rock 2’s home I let the tears out as I hugged her and said good-bye and cried more at home but even that was no relief. More cards had come in the mail.  Thank you again!  One card was from an old bestie.  We grew up together, have mountains of memories, but in the 2000s are friendship took a dive.  Looking back now, I know she hurt me, and I must have hurt her, but our lives were then on different tracks somehow, and we couldn’t or didn’t communicate to salvage what was left.  I have so many good memories of our times together and she is another sister in Christ.  I figured that friendship had been for that season only, but alas, she reached out and I received her card just when I was in my deepest sorrow since the initial week.  God is love.

I found it in myself to get in touch with two more speakers we wanted as first choices, and both agreed.  We traded some cute and funny pictures of Morgan with relatives for a while, and then it was trying for a good night sleep again.  I must have slept fairly decently because I feel fine, but it seems to me I was still awake a lot just talking/praying to God. It is so true that He is so close to the brokenhearted if you invite Him in.  I can see so many ways her death can, and is, moving people in a positive direction. 

The above was an account of dealing with every parent’s worst nightmare.  The next time you hear of a loss like this, even though your psyche won’t allow you to “go there” with your own offspring, you get a taste of the true depths of a soul.  “I can’t imagine” is said in response when you hear such news and thank God you can’t, and most will never have to.  Some will. I want this to be a place where ANYBODY can come to grieve Morgan or OTHER PEOPLE.  It IS cathartic for many people to share stories.  I want to hear your story.  I want to hear about your loved one. You may have just remembered a funny thing about them and who ya gonna text at midnight?  Tell me! I will always pray for you. I know you feel like you’ll eventually bother people if you can’t shut up about your loved one.  Tell me here, and I’ll do the same!  Until next time….