Fuzzy Socks Remind Me of You

Dear Aaron,

I put my fuzzy socks on tonight. The ones I bought when we were at the hospital in November. So many purchased and worn out over the years; that happens when you're there for 529 days (and nights). These were the last ones I picked up and now I wear them a lot at home, 'cause I don't like cold toes, among other things.  They're soft, almost silky feeling, with rubber knobs on the bottom because hospital floors are slippery. So they were in my suitcase, not my drawer, and I didn't wear them here. Now I do. 

I was released as chorister today, and I have to admit, it hurts a little. I'm trying to trust that it's Father's will, that it's time. But I love leading and I love the focus I have when I'm leading. The Spirit speaks to me through music and it helps. I mean, I'll still be singing the hymns but somehow I don't always focus on them as much when I'm not leading. And the timing...  Well, most wards only have one chorister but because I was never sure if I'd be in church or we'd be at Primary's, we had three and we'd rotate. Now it will be just one again, but I was also back to where I'm not leaving suddenly anymore. 

Change is hard. Missing you is hard. Today things just hurt, again (or still). 

It's been a bit of a busy weekend, and a busy week to come. Yesterday Daddy and I went down to Cedar City to see Sarah and Joseph.  Joseph organized and conducted Rob Gardner's The Lamb of God. Sarah played clarinet. I loved watching him do what he loves, and the music touched my soul. I was struck again at Mary and Martha's faith. I mean, I can look back and have faith in the resurrection because Christ has already risen. That hadn't happened yet, and they still affirmed that they knew they would see their brother again. 

But sometimes, often, that day seems so far away, and as they performed, I was taken back again to your room early on December 23rd where my soul cried for you to return, to return now, for your body to move again and for you to be healed.  

Next week brings more changes. Andrew moves home for the summer on Wednesday, Matthew graduates Thursday and leaves for his last Folk Dance tour on Saturday. Sarah graduates on Friday. Dad is working from home most days now. Summer is coming and in one more month, Michael will graduate from high school and my public school years will officially be over. 

But the house also fills up most Sundays. I miss Joseph and Sarah, but today everyone else was here. Matthew and Kensey are going through his things upstairs getting ready for their move to Wisconsin when he comes back from tour. Andrew and Mary are still hanging around. David left a little while ago. Jonny, Avenlee and Elend have gone home and sometime in the next couple weeks will add another little one. Deborah, Bronson, Linnaea and Barrett were up here too and I got to hold him. Did you guys play together before he came? Are you still hanging out with your next new nephew? 

December 23. You had gone "home" that 
morning and Jonny's family wasn't
here yet, but the rest all came. 

I am so grateful to be your mom ('cause I still am!!) and grateful for your siblings, too. Yesterday, Michael and a bunch of kids from the ward went on a rappelling activity and two adults were injured, one quite severely. It was rough, but Michael handled it really well. I have to think it's because he's been exposed to so many emergency situations that he just kept his cool. But he was also coming home to an empty house 'cause Dad and I were going to be gone until late. In fact, we had considered just staying overnight in Cedar rather than trying to drive back. But when I learned what happened, I was worried about him being alone. One phone call to David and he was on his way to the house. And once there, Bronson also got involved and they all hung out downstairs together. 

It helps my soul to know your big kids have each other to depend on. I have to think that's in part because of you. You brought us together, taught us to pull together, and helped us see that when there's a problem, we all bring what we have to the table to make things better. That's a life lesson that can't be created artificially, not really. 

We miss you so much, but your legacy lives on. It's hard knowing you'll never have descendants to remember you, to carry your line, but still, you have made an indelible mark on our family, honestly on the world. You taught so many; your influence is still here. 

But really, I wish it was you, physically still here. I'm selfish that way. Trying to cling to hope, cling to my Savior. I know He lives, and you will someday too. But right now, I miss you.

Love you so much,
Mama

"Jesus Christ is our hope and the answer to life’s greatest pains."

- Jose L Alonso