My April Lesson

Hey Babe,

Today I taught in Relief Society. The lesson was based on Dallin H. Oaks’ talk “Alive in Christ and the Resurrection.”

As I stood there teaching, I felt you with me. Not just a passing thought—but a real, quiet presence. It was emotional… in a way I didn’t expect.

I shared stories about my birth father, Colby—and about you.

I told them Colby was a good man. All I ever wanted was for him to be my dad. He was kind and gentle… but he carried demons he couldn’t overcome. The night he hit me in a drunken rage—that wasn’t who he truly was. Addiction changes people. It clouds memory, distorts truth. I don’t think we ever really knew what happened that night.

He said I was playing with the ironing board, that he asked me to stop and I didn’t. Then he struck me—his hand across the side of my three-year-old head.

I believe that moment haunted him for the rest of his life.

Mom divorced him, and over the years, we barely spoke. Maybe ten times, if that. But every time we did, he would say the same words: “I’m so sorry, honey.”

And every time, I would stop him and say, “I forgave you a long time ago.”

But now I see it differently.

When he sobered up, the weight of what he had done crushed him. And instead of healing, he ran back to the very thing that destroyed him. Over and over again.

Now, I find myself wishing I could say something different:
“I’m sorry too… for the anger I carried. I just wanted you to be my daddy. I wanted you to rescue me.”

I believe he’s in Heaven now. Whole. At peace. I wonder if you’ve seen him. I hope you have.
I look forward to the day I see you both again… along with your mom and dad.

The lesson also touched on something that stayed with me. As members of the Church, we sometimes feel misunderstood—but we’ve also had moments in our history where we didn’t fully accept others either. That has to change.

You and I never lived that way. We’ve loved people from all walks of life, all beliefs. And truthfully, many of them have been better at loving than I have.

That’s what I’m learning—really learning.
To love people where they are. Not where I wish they would be.

Because if we are judging, we are not loving. And if we are not loving, we are not living like Christ.
That’s the part I’m still working on every single day.

Haleigh still hasn’t reached out.

And I’ve come to a hard realization… I can’t keep doing this to my heart. It’s exhausting. I love her unconditionally—I always will. And I will always be here when she’s ready. But I think it’s time for me to write one final letter and let her know that.

I’ll pray. I’ll fast. I’ll make sure it comes from love—not pain.

As I prepared this lesson, a thought kept coming to me: she’s not there yet.
Not in the place of unconditional love.

And maybe that’s okay—for now.

Because I know who she is.
She is kind. She is gentle. She has always been that way.

She stood beside me during cancer. During her senior year—when people constantly asked her about me, about my illness. I know that hurt her more than she ever said out loud. And I will never forget it.

And I will never forget her final dance at Highland High… “Curing Cancer, Dancer by Dancer.”

I sat there, bald, watching our little girl cry as she danced to a song she chose just for me.
She doesn’t cry easily.

That moment… it held everything.

I have made mistakes. I see them more clearly now than ever before. But I am so grateful that every day, I can repent. Every day, I can forgive—and ask for forgiveness.

I am trying to become more like Christ. I fail often… but I’m changing. I can feel it—in my thoughts, in my actions, in the way I see people now.

And I want you to know something, too.

Thank you… for asking me for forgiveness—for a lifetime of hurt.
That mattered more than you may ever understand.

And I need you to hear me clearly:

I forgive you.

All of it.
Even the things that almost broke us.

We’ve carried things that could have destroyed our marriage… but they didn’t.
Because love—real love—chooses to stay, to heal, to forgive.

And I choose you. Still.

I love you.
Monya

Year Two: The Ache That Lingers

Frenchie

Everyone told me it would get easier with time. But here I am — deep into the second year — and it hurts even more than ever.

The world expects healing to follow a schedule, as if grief has a deadline. But the truth is, I still cry every night. I stare at the pillow with your face — that big, beautiful smile — and I miss it just as much now as I did the day you left. My heart still feels shattered. I still reach for you in the quiet moments, and each time I wake and realize you’re truly gone, the pain comes flooding back all over again.

I’m learning that grief isn’t linear. It isn’t something to check off a to-do list. It’s not something you “get over.” It has reshaped me—woven into the fabric of my everyday life. I’m learning to carry it, but some days I still fail.

Grief is complicated because it’s invisible. From the outside, I look delicate — maybe even strong. But no one sees the weight I carry: the lump in my throat, the restless knots in my stomach, the exhaustion that comes from pretending I’m okay. Grief is quiet and heavy, a burden most people never see.

You were my anchor. My peace. The one who helped me breathe when the world felt too heavy. Without you, I feel like half of me is missing.

Still, I move forward. I carry your absence with me like a shadow — sometimes light, sometimes suffocating. Some days, the grief feels like a soft whisper. On other days, it rages like a storm, leaving me breathless. But always, underneath it all, it’s love. Pure and enduring love.

I am learning to coexist with the sorrow. I don’t feel whole — not yet — but I am still here. I’ve changed. I’ve grown in ways I never expected since you left.

Haleigh still will not talk or text me. My heart aches for her, but I’m learning that I have to keep moving forward without her. I miss her so much, and I know this would have hurt you, too. I may never see her or our grandchildren again. So much has changed, and I no longer have the energy to keep trying to force what isn’t flowing. I’m not getting younger, and I want to build healthy, joyful relationships with the children who do reach out, who show up, who love me back.

Kayla tells me I wasn’t supposed to reach out to Haleigh — that there’s no contact rule— but I never got that memo. I send texts at random moments: I love you, I miss you. I don’t know how else to hold her in my heart.

Despite all of the brokenness, I can feel Heavenly Father near. I feel you cheering me on in the quiet moments. And while I may not be alone, I am — undeniably — deeply, quietly lonely.

I’ve decided to serve in the Mesa Temple. I’m on the waiting list for a calling — just one day a week, but as much as I can. And I’ve decided I want to serve a mission someday. In two years, when I retire, I hope I’ll be healthy enough to go. You know this was always my dream. I wanted to serve when I was twenty-one, but life had other plans — beautiful, messy, unexpected plans. Then you promised me we would serve a mission together. You promised me.

I don’t know what our mission will be, Eric. But I see it two ways:

1. I get to serve in this life — healthy, devoted, and doing good — carrying you with me in every prayer.

or
2. I finish this life and serve with you on the other side.

In either case… I win.

I love you so much. I want to do everything right while you’re gone so that when I cross that veil, I can run straight into your arms.

XOXO
Monya

The Day the Silence Spoke Back

 

Dear Frenchie,

There was a time I believed that once someone passed, they were simply gone—out of reach, out of touch, out of time. The physical pain of your absence has been unbearably hard. The silence I’ve felt is so loud, it hurts.

But then something changed.

Slowly, quietly, profoundly—I began to hear you. To feel you with me.

It didn’t happen all at once. It started with a whisper of intuition, a warmth in a room where I stood alone, a flicker of a memory that came alive in real time. I thought I was imagining it—but I desperately wanted it to be real. Over time, those feelings returned, again and again, with clarity, with power, and with love.

Grief has cracked me wide open. And in that open space, your spirit found room to enter my heart and soul. Thank you for that.

I’ve realized that spirits don’t always come with flashing lights or dramatic signs. Often, it’s subtle. It’s the beautiful sunsets and the wondrous sunrises I now love to wake up to.
It’s the song that plays when I’m thinking of you.
It’s the memory of you learning the Stanky Leg and how happy that made you.
It’s the feather on my doorstep or the ladybugs that continue to show up.
The dream that felt more like a visit than a vision.
It’s the way my body chills just before a wave of peace washes over me.

The more I’ve leaned into trust, the stronger the connection has grown. I began talking to you—first out loud, then in thought, and sometimes just through tears. And always, you responded—in your own way, not in words, but in presence. A presence so unmistakable, I can only call it sacred.

I’ve come to understand: love doesn’t die. Energy doesn’t end. And your spirit hasn’t abandoned me. Quite the opposite—you have stepped into my heart and reassured me that you are with me anytime I need to tap into that spirit.

Because of your visits, I’ve learned to stop and enjoy the small things—like you did during that year and a half before you passed away. My awareness is palpable. Strikingly overwhelming at times, but I am grateful for the continued lessons I’m learning about you.

I’ve learned to meditate by sitting in the silence, breathing air into my lungs, and feeling your presence wrap around me like a soft embrace. I only remember the good times we shared. I don’t take your presence lightly—it is profound.

Our loved ones are not “lost.” They are transformed. They walk with us, whisper to us, and when we get quiet enough to listen, they answer.

Your mom did that with me after she passed—her first visit was when I had to be resuscitated during a very long and dangerous surgery. It only lasted a few minutes, but what took place with her seemed like much longer. When I opened my eyes, I was in Heaven. Your mom was there, holding her arms out, wanting me to run into them—and I did. Her eyes were as blue as I remembered, like the Caribbean Sea. She told me Heavenly Father had asked her to visit with me, and she instructed me about three things I still needed to do here on earth.

On that visit, your dad was there too. I hugged him and felt the strength of his embrace. I told him I didn’t want to go back—that my life was too hard. He didn’t hesitate. He waved his hand to his left and said, “Do you see those children playing? Those are your grandchildren, and they need your influence and example in their lives. Now it is time for you to return to your life on earth.”

Then he looked at your mother and said something I later found peculiar: “It’s time for Monya to go back to her life on earth, and it’s time for you and I to get back to work.” Get back to work? What did that mean? I had so many questions as I tried to make sense of what had happened to me that day.

The second time your mother appeared to me was in a dream. We walked through a beautiful garden as she explained one of her “jobs” in Heaven: she oversaw it. She asked me about you, whether you were treating me with love and respect, just as Ray had treated her. She asked if I was happy. We talked about spiritual things, and I remembered why I loved her so much. She still visits me in my dreams.

I felt it when my brother, Lance, passed away. I carried shame and guilt, wondering if I had taken him to the hospital that night instead of worrying about him keeping me awake, could I have saved him?

But when Lance visited me not long after his death, he placed his hand on mine as I prayed about him. I reveled in those moments, eyes closed, listening as he spoke. I heard him as if he were alive and standing beside me. He said:

"Monya, my death is not your fault. It was my time to go, and I am happy. Now it’s time for you to move out of Mom and Dad’s house and start living. Go and enjoy your new life with Eric—he is a good person."

And then he was gone.

When Jami was diagnosed with breast cancer, I knew I needed to visit her—but I didn’t. I felt uncomfortable. How could I face someone I loved so much, someone who had already suffered so deeply?

After her death, I punished myself with guilt for not going to her. That pain became even harder to bear when I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself.

But I began to pray about Jami, and the spirit I felt was hers. She assured me she knew I loved her—and she understood why I didn’t come. She told me that now, having received the same diagnosis, I would appreciate it. She reminded me to focus on the fight ahead. She told me I would be blessed through the process and that Heavenly Father would never leave my side.

She was right. I didn’t waste energy worrying about who came to visit or who said the wrong things. I gave grace—because I remembered how I felt with Jami. And when I told you that story, you were mesmerized. You asked why you’d never had experiences like that.

I’ll never forget what I said:
I told you that you didn’t need the reassurance like I did. You were raised in a very different environment from mine.

For me, those spiritual encounters kept me grounded, alive, conscious. They carried me when I felt I couldn’t go on. It wasn’t always easy—in fact, it was humiliating at times—but I made it through.

And finally, there was Black Rock Beach.

The Lord allowed you to visit me in the very place where you took your last breath. I believe He escorted you there and left us to share sacred time together.

You told me you saw me on the beach that day—you knew I would never be the same again. You told me about where you are. You said you are so happy that where you are, there are no negative feelings or thoughts. You said Heaven is real—it’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. Then you shared your spiritual connection with Heaven and the life you now have. It was the first time I had ever seen you in this light, and it was so refreshing.

You told me you were excited to be allowed to visit me. And that I have a gift—a gift to feel the spirits of those we love who have passed.

You told me you knew you couldn’t help me any other way—but visiting me was enough. It was everything. You shared your love for the Lord and assured me He lives and loves us all. Those spiritual thoughts you shared with me are my favorite—because I had never heard you speak with such intention.

I know now, without a doubt, that there is life after death. And I can tune in to those feelings when needed. I didn’t want our moment to end. But when it did, I looked at my watch, stunned that we had spent four hours together.

I treasure your love and your presence in my life. I feel you often. And I am eternally grateful to Heavenly Father for that day on the beach—and for the life we shared.

As rocky as the beginning of our marriage was, I will always be proud of us—of our grit and determination to keep going. The world said we were a statistic, that we’d never make it. But we did. And we both know we had a beautiful love story. It is more evident to me now how much you love me.

Thank you for loving me the way you have, and for continuing to show me your beautiful, vulnerable heart. I love this part of you.

Now, when I feel that gentle tug in my soul—or the warmth over my entire body—I no longer wonder. I know.

I am a special daughter of God, protected and guided by the spirits of those who love me.

I am not alone.
I never was.
And neither are you.

I am in love with our eternal companionship.

I love you. And I look forward to seeing you again.

Love,
Me, your cute wifey

You Are A Man of God

Hey Frenchie, I've been deciding whether to stay or stay in this house we built together. Blake showed me a house this week in Gilbert. A smaller home sounds much better than this BIG house and yard.  It's such a hard decision; we built this house as we wanted. We built this house around the pantry. Remember how adamant I was about having a big pantry? You made sure I had the pantry of my dreams. Thank you for loving me that much... lol.

I received a phone call from Lori Blandford telling me that Jeff was offering to sell me any of his specs for his cost. My initial reaction was to tell her no, I'm not ready for that yet. This is my worst nightmare. It goes to show me that I never know exactly what is going to happen next. I miss you very much. My heart is still broken. 

I cry myself to sleep every night and hold your pillow close. You are the last person on earth I could imagine dying. Mainly because you were bigger than life and loved life. I want you to know I forgive you for things I brought up to you often about our past. I appreciate that you apologized to me the night before you died, but why? Did you know you were going to die? When I look back at the last month before you passed, there are too many things you said or did that make me believe you knew this was coming. Not too many people get a second chance at life. You did and made up for so many years that I knew you felt disconnected from our children. You made that all right with them; each loves you so much.

I wish you were sitting next to me on our bed. I know you loved when I wrote in this blog. I really wish you had left more of your life experiences with the kids. You really didn't like to write things down. Lol, but I would give anything to have your journals. I read from your missionary journal that you only wrote for the first six months. What happened? I remember things you told me about your mission, but you didn't talk much about it. Did you think any of us would be disappointed in you? I hope you never felt that because the man I started dating over forty years ago was a man of God. I loved how humble you were. I saw that side of you again in the past year and a half. Heavenly Father is so happy with you. We all make mistakes, but the Atonement covers all of them. Every day, I am grateful that I married you. Not a moment goes by that I don't think about you. Save me a place. I cannot wait to see you again. I long for your fantastic hugs.

Grief

Dear Frenchie

My grief has not made me stronger, but it made me aware of all we had together. I have no choice but to learn how to function in the face of pure fear, bone-deep rage, and gut-wrenching sadness. You were my person, and now you're gone; I have no hugs, no kisses, and no "I love you" every day. I continue to pray every night for you and for our family to survive this incredible loss. I told you before, and I will continue to say, "I will NEVER get remarried." Not because I don't believe in intimacy or love, but because I could search the world repeatedly and NEVER find someone like you. You are and will always be THE BEST man for me. No one can compare.

Grief is a sadness that can only be known deep inside the devastated soul of the griever. It's this kind of despair that changes your entire life forever. I never knew how much I loved you until my heart was broken on that beach in Maui. I always thought we would have time to say, do, travel, laugh, and love more deeply. 

My entire universe was changed overnight. It's altered everything I thought I knew about myself and the world around me. And every day, I uncover more about what that even means. 

Sometimes, I feel you hold me at night like you used to. I have such a hard time sleeping, and I appreciate it when you quietly embrace me until I fall asleep. Thank you.

I realize that my feelings of grief change from day to day or even moment to moment. I will never forget you and what we shared together. Reflecting on our life together, we had much more romantic, fun vacations and everyday connections than most. 

Remember when it seemed like every one of our friends was getting divorced? That was a crazy time. But I loved that you and I always discussed those things and why people grow apart. We know why each of them broke up, and pride is a big part. Neither one could say sorry and really mean it. That was never worth an eternal marriage to you, and you fought for me to forgive you and move forward because, in the end, we made commitments to each other and promised our family would be eternal. I am so grateful for you and the man who made me a better wife and friend. 

I forgive you for putting me in positions where I felt forced to do things I didn't want to. I heard your apology, and I know how hard it was for you to say it with tears rolling down your cheeks in front of Jori and Dwight. But I promise I didn't tell them anything; your sincere apology put us all in tears. Your honesty and vulnerability were something I had never felt before, and it was an unforgettable moment. I will always hold that moment close to my heart. Only you and I know what that apology was for or what it meant to me. Thank you.

See you soon; I love you.

Monya

I can do hard things

 I've had to make some tough decisions about my mental health and how Kayla and Kaitlyn have affected me this past year.

    I miss them but have decided for my own mental health. It's been a year since I had to hear Kayla call me disgusting and a text from Kaitly saying I'm awful. I have sincerely apologized, taken responsibility, and put myself through shame as a mother and seen a therapist. I realize they have boundaries, So I have to consider them acquaintances. They were in my first circle and are now considered in my third circle. I must let them have their boundaries and realize I do not have any control over other people's thoughts and feelings; their perceptions are different than mine, but I respect their perspectives because I finally figured out two things during therapy with Eric.

Kayla

1. I was a mess when I was pregnant with Kayla. Eric was so embarrassed he didn't want to see me. I cried every day for nine months, the shame I had to feel going to work pregnant, and everyone knew I was not married and that Eric and I were not seeing each other. Eric didn't help with the money; I took what little money I had across the street to Pic n Save to get cans of vegetables just to keep up with my nutrition. Eric asked his office if I would call to tell me he was not there (Before Cellphones). Being alone for nine months of pregnancy, living alone was very depressing. I had a lot of anxiety, shame, and disappointment in myself for giving in to Eric. I worried about how I would care for myself and the baby. It was so scary. I tried to save money but barely made enough to pay for my apartment. I never talked to my mom and dad until I was eight months pregnant. I was at their home, and my mom asked me how Ray felt about this. I had to tell her, "I don't know, I'm sure he doesn't know." She picked up the phone and called Eric's dad to tell him he would be a grandfather in a month. He was quiet but definitely did not know about the pregnancy. Eric only told me, "You cannot have the baby on August 17th because I am getting an award for real estate, and I have to be there." On the day of my ultrasound, he said he would be there but never showed up.

On the morning of August 17th, I called my mom at 3 am, and she stayed on the phone with me to count the minutes between contractions. When they got to 5 minutes apart, she told me to call Eric and have him come and pick me up. I called him, and surprisingly, he answered. He said he couldn't get me; I told him I would drive to his condo, across the street from the hospital where I would be delivering. The drive was, to say the least, HARD, having contractions and trying to drive in rush hour traffic. When I arrived, I lay on his sofa. He was upset that I was having a baby on the day he was honored. He was cold and nervous about what he would say in his speech, so I tried to ignore what he said and did. I labored for about 6 hours alone; I would call the hospital, and they would tell me to wait just a little bit longer. The pain was so bad. Having my first baby, I really didn't know what to expect. My mom never called again, and I couldn't get to the phone on the wall in the kitchen. I didn't think she had Eric's phone number. I wanted her with me. I just wanted my mom to reassure me I would be okay and that I hadn't been forgotten. I prayed a lot but felt unworthy of it or His love since I had committed the worst sin other than murder. The pain still came, but I needed to be brave. I needed to be strong for my baby. During those hours alone in labor, I will never forget how lonely I was. I knew the pain wasn't going away, so I cried a lot, knowing no one would see my weakness.

When Eric arrived home after his award ceremony, he changed his clothes and showed me his award. I couldn't care less; my contractions were 2 minutes apart, and he had no idea how to comfort me. I don't think he wanted to comfort me. The physical pain, on top of his self-pride, was more than I could process at the time. I told him he needed to take me to the hospital. He didn't help me to the car. At the hospital, he was in the delivery room. The nurses told him how to help me and how to breathe with me while in contractions, and he did well. When the doctor told me I had a new baby daughter, I was overwhelmed with unconditional love when they placed her on my chest. I remember kissing her and saying, "I love you," and promising I would always be there for her. It was a relief to have her here physically okay, with ten fingers and ten toes, but I was unsure how I would make it through this. The nurses brought her to me to nurse, but I wasn't ready. I told them I needed time. I gave Kayla my last name because I had no idea what was next and did not want any problems with him trying to take her someday.

What was interesting was when my mom and dad came, and eventually, Eric's dad and Betty Eric went into this weird, almost politician-like mood. He pretended he had been with me through not only the last 9 months but the labor I was in at his condo. It was as if he knew every detail of the past months, but he knew nothing. 

When I went home with my new little bundle of joy, I was alone but not lonely; now, I could hold and play with my baby. I nursed her until it was time to go back to work. I cried when I dropped her off at Sonya's house but was grateful to her for helping me. I have yet to hear from Eric. Kayla had colic, and I thought it would never end. I had to take her in my car so the neighbors wouldn't complain. I'd be up all night, then go home and prepare for work. I was exhausted. One night, I drove her to Eric's home (he moved to Chandler). I think it was two or three in the morning, and when he answered the door, I placed my crying baby in his arms and told him it was his turn and I needed sleep. He had no idea what to do but said, "I can't do this. I have to go to work." I slept as much as I could and had no idea how he kept her quiet, but she was asleep next to him on his waterbed in the morning. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like for us to be married and do this parenting together.

When Kayla was two months old, I was in a car accident. They had to take Kayla out of the car with the jaws of life. Kayla was screaming, and my heart ached for her. When the firefighters finally got her out, she was all smiles. My car was totaled. I don't remember how we got home. When I called Eric, I couldn't contact him, so I called his office. The secretary told me he was on a trip to Spain and would not be home for another week.

This is when I knew I had to let go of Eric and move forward with Kayla. I wrestled with the idea of her not having a father figure in her life. It would never be Gary, and I had yet to hear from Ray. Someone I knew years ago called me (I'm sure he got my phone from my mom.) He wanted to visit me; I told him it was not a good idea because I had a baby and was unmarried. He said, "I know, but I still want to visit you." I agreed, and Dave came to my apartment. I hadn't seen him for so long, so I asked what he was doing now. He said, "I'm an anesthesiologist." I laughed and said, "I guess you bought that Porsche with that money?" He said he'd been practicing in Phoenix for several years now; I remembered then that he was quite a bit older than I was. He visited Kayla and me as much as he could. As weeks went on, I have yet to hear from Eric. One night, he called when Dave was there. He wanted to come over, and I told him no, I was visiting with a friend. It killed me to say that to him; I loved him still and wanted us to be a family. Eric drove over anyway; when he knocked on the door, I stepped outside and told him, "I asked you not to come over." He said, "Who is in there with you?" I told him it was a friend, and he said, "A friend that drives a Porsche?" "I don't have to tell you that." He was angry when I wouldn't let him in the apartment. Dave came out and said, "I can see this is not a good time, Monya; I put Kayla to bed. I will talk to you tomorrow." That did not go well with Eric, but I stood my ground and said goodbye.

Dave started discussing marriage and adopting Kayla; he wanted to take us to the Temple. I didn't love him and thought he was moving too fast. Kayla was only four months old. I never loved anyone like I loved Eric, but then I started to doubt myself and wondered if I loved his parents more than him. I called Eric and told him that Kayla had my last name and that Dave was discussing marriage. Eric was livid; he told me he would take her to Europe with him, and I'd never see her or him again if I did that. I wanted to laugh because he would not know how to take care of her, and maybe he needed some time alone with her to see how hard it was to be alone and raise a baby...he had no idea. Besides, how would he obtain a passport for Kayla? I hung up, saying, "Eric, I've given you six years of my life, and not once have you been serious about marriage. I'm still in love with you, but I can't do this with you anymore. I have a baby to think of, and it would be good to realize you have a daughter and stop hiding it from everyone."

One night, he came over to my apartment and wanted to talk. I allowed him to come in; he held Kayla until she cried, then quickly handed her back to me. After I nursed and put Kayla to bed, Eric was still there. He tried to kiss me, and I turned away; I told him no, but he pushed himself on me. I remember pushing him away and saying, "No, I will not do that anymore with you." He didn't listen through my tears. I was so glad to see him leave and get a restraining order on him. The next month, when my cycle didn't come, I went to Pic and Save and bought a pregnancy test. I sat on my bathroom floor and cried; I couldn't believe I was pregnant. I was devastated.

How could I let this happen? Should I even tell Eric? What about Dave? I am a terrible person; I'm a sinner, and God will never forgive what I have done. I called Eric, angrier than scared to tell him. He didn't believe me until I reminded him of that night. After a month passed and he hadn't called, I knew I would be doing this again with two children. Kayla would cry when she saw me cry, so I tried to cry after she was dropped off and I was on my way to work. There was no way I could love another child like I did Kayla; I took her everywhere with me. Abortion was out of the question; I didn't believe in that.

Eric came to the apartment one night, and I saw he was distraught. I let him in, and he told me he would pick me up in the morning, and we would marry. I laughed at him and said, "Why should I believe you'll show up this time." So many times, he had said that to me, and I would wait and not hear from him for days. He said, "I need to tell you something first." Without going into all the details, he told me he had been intimate with two other girls. When he told me one of them was when I was in the accident with Kayla and that he had won a trip for two to Spain, he took her with him. I stood up and said, "Get out of here. I never want to see you again." he said, "But we were on a break." This made me madder; I said, "We were on a BREAK?? Did you forget to tell these girls you had a child? Just get out of my apartment. I can't hear any more of this." Before he left, he said, "Monya, I could never marry you without telling you about the other girls." I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.

The following day, I was getting ready for work and trying to get Kayla ready when a knock was on my door. It was Eric in a suit and tie. I said, "What are you doing here? I'm going to be late for work." He said, "I came to get you. We are getting married today." "Yeah, right; really, what do you want?" He cried and said, "I am marrying you today."

We went to the courthouse in Phoenix and stood before a judge, where we were married. It was surreal to have waited six years and finally be married. Our first year of marriage was really hard. Every time Eric was late getting home from work, I wondered if he was cheating on me. I also felt like maybe he didn't really love me, and that was why it took him so long.

I Make Mistakes Over & Over Again

 

I’ve been so down lately; I have made many mistakes as a mother that I wish I could rewind. I have considered myself a good mother; I love my four children and my beautiful ten grandchildren. Since Eric’s heart attack, I have not spoken to two of my daughters. My heart is broken over it. 

The Lord sees my mistakes; he knows my failures and my successes. Sometimes, I daydream about being perfect in every way, but then I think about the Atonement of Jesus Christ. The sacrifice that was made by Him for me helps me to understand. Every one of us makes mistakes. Sometimes, they are small, and sometimes there are big ones. They could be accidental, unintentional, and even careless. We even repeat mistakes. I have made mistakes that are hard to get over and move past. I struggle in prayer, asking for forgiveness daily, and nothing changes. I texted my daughter, telling her I was sorry and asking her to forgive me. I sometimes miss her so much that my heart hurts. I fear I’ve lost both of my daughters this time.

Unfortunately, there is no way around making mistakes, so we came to earth and got a body. Our environment, upbringing, the people we associate with, and choices can be debilitating. Although there really is no way around any of us making mistakes, there is a way through it. Our Savior!!

He knows how to lift me when I fail and forgive me when I fall. The Savior is the only way to make me stronger and a better person. Heavenly Father can restore my faith and hope and bring me peace.

He asks us to ‘Come unto Him,’ and he will give us rest. When I was a little girl, I heard this scripture and wondered, “What does that mean?” Now, as an adult, I understand. Just because we make mistakes does not mean all is well in our little worlds. When we hurt people, it is up to them to forgive; they may never forgive, and we must be okay with that. I want to rest; I want a second chance. I know the Lord forgives me repeatedly for the mistakes I make; now, it is up to me to forgive myself.

Forgiving myself for mistakes and things I have said or done to hurt my children is one of the hardest things ever. Never in my life did I ever imagine I could hurt one of my children so badly that they would never want to talk to me again. It is more than I can handle. Because I believe in Christ and my life’s purpose, I can only continue to pray and ask Him to forgive me. I doubt this will be the last time I have to ask forgiveness. All I can do now is wait and continue to pray their hearts will be softened to their mother and forgive me. 

I hope they don’t have to carry this burden when I die. But that is part of the plan; they will have to forgive themselves one day, too. I heard a song today that reminded me of the promises made.

•  It’s not about being perfect.
• That’s not what makes us strong or brave.
• It’s about getting back up.
• Forgiving ourselves and other people and then moving on.

The only way to forgive myself is to realize I was never a perfect mother or wife. But I did the best I could with what I was taught, and I don't care who you are, there is not a perfect mom or dad anywhere.

I get these thoughts and feelings about what my children think of me, and then I remember what David Byrd taught me: thoughts and feelings are not facts.

I wish all moms and dads could understand we do our best, and the rest is up to the Lord; he will figure it all out after we are gone. None of this bickering is getting anywhere we all have been hurt by a sharp tongue, and some of us choose to let it go because we know it was said out of anger, and most importantly we are a family.

Monya

Meningitis

Eric took this at just the right moment.

    I'm on vacation as of 10 minutes ago. Eric is so excited about going away for a few days, as am I. We arrived at our condo in Mexico around 4:00pm. The weather was refreshing with a slight breeze from the ocean. The resort was quiet, and most importantly we found a great parking spot, Eric is having his second hip replaced on Tuesday, and we will have a few days to enjoy being together. Lately I've been so busy trying to finish "Pebbles in my Pocket," learning to let go of the things you can't control." and the "Happiness Junkie, #KindnessMatters. We haven't had much time together and we wanted time away.

          He rarely complains, but since his last surgery, he has had terrible acid reflexes that sound like they hurt. He said it hurt his chest. We stayed in the condominium but had so much fun lying on the sofa watching movies and keeping up on the Local Government election. We ate popcorn, snacks, and sandwiches for dinner, and then we went out.

           We had intimate conversations about the trials we have had and how after 40+ years we have served one another, forgiven one another, and learned more about each other, as far as our wants and needs we began writing our goals for 2023. We talked about our children, each one of them. Eric and I did our best to raise four responsible adults. Now it is their time to live the life they want and what makes them happy.

        We are both looking toward retirement and have written our goals for the next five years. He is so excited to start building our home in Mexico and selling a few condos, and then He surprised me with the layout of the house in Mexico and wanted to know my advice. Together we changed a few things, like bedroom sizes, bathroom placement, etc.

        On Monday, I woke up unable to balance, I ran into walls, and my right eye looked infected and bright red. I had a migraine like I've never had and eventually started having some hallucinations, people looked short, fat, and pregnant, even the men. I took a migraine medicine to hopefully help the pain as we drove from Mexico to the Mayo Clinic. On the way home, I spoke with Dr. Lettieri since it looked like it was an eye infection. I asked if we should come to County Hospital or Mayo Clinic. He said Mayo since the Maricopa Hospital does not have an ophthalmologist in the ER. then asked Eric to text him with an update from Mayo Clinic.

        In the Emergency Room, I was taken for a CT scan, lots of drug testing, and ordered an MRI. By now, my hallucinations were constant with my eyes open or closed. I could not take any pain medication because they did not want to alter the results, and medicines can do that. I was given a spinal tap, and I thought about my youngest granddaughter Florence, she has spina bifida, and I wondered how many times in her life she would have to do this. It helped me to stay still so the doctor could do this spinal tap quickly.

        I didn't get to my room until around 3:00 a.m. I texted Dr. Lettieri knowing he would be up and getting ready for work. Dr. Lettieri was in surgery at Mayo when I updated him. He came from surgery to check on me. He knows my story from the beginning to now. He found out who my Neurosurgeon was on duty and gave him the background. He told my neuro team this had nothing to do with my eye. Eric and I love Dr. Lettieri, Eric is always saying how lucky we are to have him on speed dial as we have had to use him several times. The Neurosurgeon respects Dr. Lettieri and was glad he called him so they could eliminate the eye as the main reason for the migraine and hallucinations.

        That night they took me in for the MRI around 10:00 pm. I asked Eric to go home, it's a long ride for him, and I wanted him to get home safely. He didn't want to leave, but I knew his hip was hurting, and he needed rest.

        The MRI was less than a fun time, I had to wear a mask in a tube that was already claustrophobic. It really scared me, so I closed my eyes and suffered through it. When they pulled me out to administer the contrast and dye. I asked if I could take off the mask, and the technician said since I did not move a muscle during the first round, it was okay for me to keep the mask off and it made an enormous difference. The pounding on my migraine made me throw up several times back to my room, and for the next couple of days...still had no pain medicine.

        Dr. Hasan, who is on my neurologist team, came into my room with Kayla and Eric, she finally had a diagnosis, I had viral meningitis. The swelling between my brain and the lining of the brain was infected and swollen, and this was what the hallucinations were coming from. Kaitlyn once again debated with a neurosurgeon through our family text. I did not have my phone, but Eric was reading it to me. Since Florence has spina bifida, she said the spinal fluid would not explain the slurred speech and hallucinations. It really hurt when Eric read that to me, A nurse happened to be in the room and then told my neurology team what she heard. She also heard me ask Eric if he thinks they all think I'm crazy, and he answered, "Yes."

            Dr. Hasan came to my bedside after Eric and Kayla left for the night. She held my hand and said the nurse told her about the conversation. She said, "I don't care if your family thinks you're crazy; you tell them what is happening to you, and the things you see are as real as they can be." Dr. Hassan said it is normal, and they've seen it before with meningitis patients. I thanked her for telling me this was normal. They ran every street drug test they could and knew I was not on drugs or that no alcohol use had happened. When the surgeon came in, he said Dr. Lettieri told him what was happening had nothing to do with any of the surgeries he had done. I also asked him to read the family text thread and tell me how to answer my daughter without causing more problems. His answer was, "I didn't get my degree from Google." I realized he read it the way I did like she doubted me without me saying anything about the contention this daughter has had about me for years. I decided it was not worth addressing, so I let it go. I just want peace and love in our family. But I was glad to know she was checking on me, I really think she doesn't like me.

        I felt like I couldn't get anyone to believe what I was seeing on the walls, ceiling, and floors. I asked Eric "Do you think the doctors think I'm crazy?" and he said, "I'm pretty sure they do, but I've known you longer than anyone. This is not normal behavior for you and yes, I believe you."

        The neurologist explained to me that from the spinal tap, they did the first night, they knew it was meningitis. Then they grew cultures from the fluid of the spine. I was told after the MRI my brain looked 'beautiful', and the infection was not in my eye it was in the brain area. They told me Meningitis is either Bacterial or Viral, one not worse than the other, simply different procedures to treat. If someone comes into the ER with bacterial Meningitis, they send them home with antibiotics. When it is Viral, they must first find out the source of where it is coming from, which showed in between the brain lining and the brain, for it can take 10 days to clear up, but they've seen three months of recovery. They said I could not return to work when I was released. I spent most of my vacation in the hospital.

I took another 13 days for MLOA from American Airlines. I'm nervous about Eric's surgery tomorrow. Since his first hip surgery in August, he's had chest pains and horrible acid reflexes. 

He has cared for me as my caregiver for so long, and now I will have a chance to serve him when he comes home tomorrow.

XOXO Monya Bonbon

DUMP IT

 

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2015

Dump It

 I’ve kept my mind preoccupied for the past couple of weeks. Instead of worrying about my surgery tomorrow, nothing I do keeps my mind off my mental pain.

I’ve been in situations where I feel like everything is against me. I know so many of us go through times when we are out of options and don’t know where to turn. I try to remember that anytime I don’t see a way out, God will repeatedly make a clear and precise way. I often try to find confidence in Him, remembering He has made promises. I’ve accepted that he will not take it away, so there is no way out but a way through.

I’ve been studying different stories in the bible about people who felt there was no hope but found out differently by having. In Genesis, there was a time when Moses led the children of Israel out of slavery and headed to the Promised Land. They didn’t get far before being close to their enemies, who wanted to enslave them again. They finally found themselves at the edge of the Red Sea, and it looked like there was no hope—but God! They cried to the Lord, and in Exodus 14:1,3, Moses said, “Fear not; stand still and see the salvation of the Lord which He will work for you today.” Then Moses stretched out his hand, and the Lord caused a great wind to part the water so the people could move forward on dry land. But that’s not all! When the enemy army tried to cross the sea behind them, the water enveloped and destroyed them. The Israelites were finally free. 

I serve a Heavenly Father who wants to be the hero of my story! He is a God of miracles! He loves to show Himself strong on behalf of the people who seek after Him. I keep standing and believing because I know Heavenly Father will move me through difficult situations so I can take hold and believe in miracles again. It’s not always easy to do; I am human.

“The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” (Exodus 14:14)

It says in 1 Peter 2:9, “You have been chosen by God Himself.” There have been times when I’ve felt left out. I’ve been disregarded by people who have overlooked me. But now I always remember the One who matters most chooses me. I was not randomly chosen. God, on purpose, looked at me and said, “I chose her. She's my daughter. That’s who I want on My team.”

In my youth, I was told, “You’re just too tall or too skinny,” But God said, “You’re just the right size for Me.” I have felt or been made to feel, “You’re not talented. We don’t need you. You don’t have anything to offer.” But each time, Heavenly Father said, “You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are talented. You are creative. You are anointed. You are smart. You are intelligent. You are amazing.” This has taken me a lifetime to understand. Those aches were real, but I can see the hand of God in my life by tracing back over those steps. I’m unsure why we hold on to the past so tightly. Driving home from the Mayo Clinic, feeling a little sorry for myself, I pulled into a Land Fill (weird, never been there before--it stinks.)

I parked, poured my heart out to the Lord, and dumped everything holding me back.

Dumped my fears today...

Looks like a lot of people dump here.

I know so many who have gone through more than their share of unfair situations. But here’s what I’ve learned. Even though life is not fair, God is fair. If we do not think something is wrong with us but instead start seeing ourselves as handpicked by God — valuable, lovable, with something great to offer, Heavenly Father says He will pay us back double. That means He’ll make the rest of our life twice as good as it would have been if that situation had never happened.

It’s time for me to dig my heels in. Not allowing what somebody did or didn’t do to steal my joy and cause me to go through life feeling not good enough, not talented, and not attractive. No, it’s time for me to realize I am a child of God. My value doesn’t come from people or accomplishments but from Him. I need to put my shoulders back. Hold my head up high. Live with confidence. God said He would take what was meant for harm and use it for my advantage. 

I’m trying to keep this attitude of faith, praying Heavenly Father will always give me the last laugh. I believe he’s trying hard to get me where I’m supposed to be. I may never run that marathon I’ve dreamed of, but God has something else for me to do. Heavenly Father has opened doors for me. A year ago, I thought I was on the road to recovery, complete healing. I soon found out the Lord had another mission for me to full fill. With all my heart, my Heavenly Father is bringing light into my life for a new journey and peace. The person I am becoming is so much bigger than any monetary means. Because my Heavenly Father knows me so well, he knew I would have difficulty looking in the mirror and liking who I saw staring back. In fact, He knows this will take years of aching, crying, and suffering before I will be ok with that image in the mirror. The knowledge I have learned is this, He never gives up on any of us.

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Something Amazing

MONDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2014

Something Amazing

THIS WEEK, I RECEIVED EMAILS ASKING ME TO EXPLAIN MORE ABOUT PAST POSTS. WILL EXPLAIN NOW.

I HAVE BEEN DEAF IN MY RIGHT EAR FOR 48 YEARS DUE TO A BLOW TO THE HEAD AT AGE THREE; FROM MY BIRTHFATHER (COLBY); IT HAPPENS TO BE THE SAME EAR I'VE HAD MULTIPLE SURGERIES ON THIS YEAR. 

MY LEFT EAR IS MY 'GOOD' EAR. EVEN THOUGH THE BAHA IMPLANT IS ON THE RIGHT SIDE, IT TRANSMITS SOUNDS WAVES TO THE GOOD EAR ON THE LEFT TO IMPROVE MY HEARING. MY RIGHT EAR IS NOW COMPLETELY EMPTY, WITH NO INNER CANAL, NO EARDRUM, NO NOTHING; THE DOCTOR TOOK SKIN FROM MY HEAD AND MADE A NEW-LOOKING EAR FOR ME.

Today, something unique happened to me. I had appointments at Mayo Clinic, and I met with Kelly Conroy in the ENT department to have my Baha hearing device finally connected to the implant. I was not prepared for what would happen; I usually go to Mayo Clinic without thinking much about why I'm there or who I am supposed to see; I just don't let my mind think about it unless I'm going to the third floor then I need to prepare myself.

I have met with Kelly before for hearing tests and to be fitted for my Baha, but it's been a year since my implant was placed, and so much has happened since then. The Baha has not been on my mind. Today, I was blessed with a Tender Mercy from Heavenly Father, which I needed. I now have a new person to love at Mayo Clinic, I will never forget today, and I am so grateful Kelly Conroy was the one I shared this moment with; she was so compassionate and loving.

Kelly placed the device on my implant and then adjusted her computer to customize the hearing device to my needs. What happened next was amazing; I wish I had it on video, or Eric could have shared it. I could hear everything clearly and crisply when Kelly activated the device. I smiled, and we sat and talked for a while so she could make sure everything was working well. We both cried as I explained some of my emotions this year. This was not even the impressive part. Once I got to my car, I could not believe the sounds.

 
I opened the door to get in the front seat, and when I started the car, my music was so loud I quickly turned it down, smiled, and backed the car up--and the sound of putting the car in reverse was something I had never heard. 

As I drove down the beeline highway, I noticed a man walking; I pulled over and asked him if he needed help. He assured me he had AAA on their way and thanked me. I wondered, "why is he talking so loud?" I was overcome with emotion; I had to pull the car over a few miles away, get out and walk through the wildflowers; never had I seen anything more beautiful. I looked at the sky, brilliant blue with fluffy white clouds, and cried. I heard a bird chirp; it was beautiful. I thought I knew what that sounded like all these years, but today it was more apparent than I had ever felt or heard it. 

I could feel His love for me. He loves me, He really, really loves me, and not only me, but He also loves my biological Father, Colby Belshe. I could feel his presence; this was more than an emotionally draining day for me, but at that very moment, standing with my arms high, twirling in the Arizona desert, I could feel that finally, Colby was happy; his daughter could hear. 

Colby never could forgive himself for being the fault of my deafness, and I forgave him. I don't remember being angry with him; I only knew partial hearing. I told Colby many times that I didn't blame him, was OK, and didn't blame him, but even to his death, he took that guilt. Today that is over for him; he watched me, I felt him, and I know he can now move on. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for such a beautiful gift you have given me.
I picked myself up, got back in my car, called Eric, and could not believe how loud he was; I smiled, tears running down my cheeks.

When I got home, this is when the real magic happened. I opened the door, and I heard the doorknob turn. I smiled. When the door shut behind me, I screamed. It was so loud, it scared me. I did the same thing when my phone rang, I had "Happy" as my ringtone, and I about jumped out of my skin, but I smiled. Walking across my wood floors, I heard every step. In the kitchen, I opened the microwave and shut it several times. I did the same thing with the refrigerator, and I smiled.

When my hand touched the staircase to walk up, I heard my hand even softly dragging, and I smiled. I sat on my bedroom floor weeping, alone, just as it should be. I'm sure it was not too pretty. I could even hear the carpet as I ran my hand across it; all I could say was thank you so much for this unexpected miracle. I pulled the string on the dental floss tonight, and the sound was nothing I'd ever heard before; I did it repeatedly until the container was all gone. Turning the pages of my scriptures was terrific; I listened to every crinkle and smiled. I sat on my bed in awe of what my Heavenly Father had blessed me with at such a critical time. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, HE LOVES ME. I don't think I have smiled like I did today for so long, and even though it was a half smile, I didn't care; I couldn't help it. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is as beautiful as being able to hear everything; all the creations He has created for us to see, hear, feel, and smell we take for granted.
I can't wait to hear more things. I immediately turned my primary music on, my favorite song has always been My Heavenly Father Loves Me...I cry every time I hear this song.

My Heavenly Father Loves Me:

Whenever I hear the song of a bird,
or look at the blue blue sky,
whenever I feel the rain on my face
or the wind as it rushes by.
Whenever I touch a velvet rose
or walk by a lilac tree,
I'm glad that I live in this beautiful world,
Heavenly Father created it for me.
He gave me my eyes that I might see
the color of butterfly wings,
he gave me my ears so that I might
hear the magical sound of things
He gave me my life, my mind
my heart, I thank Him reverently
for all his creations of which I'm
apart, yes, I know Heavenly Father
Loves me.

Today these words mean more to me than ever before. I can't help but think that Heavenly Father has been waiting for this day, preparing me, and refining me, preparing Colby, too, as he has suffered with this guilt for so long. I am happy for him too. I cannot stop crying. I am so blessed the tears are flowing like a river with no end in sight. I just want to open and close things. I want to hear my grandkids laugh, oh I can't wait for that; I thought I loved those belly laughs before, but I have a feeling as I get used to this new blessing, I am going to continue to have tears, learning so much of what we take for granted. So, if you see me tear up, I'm OK. I'm just hearing something new and enjoying it for the first time. I don't know if I can say thank you enough to Him who gave me this gift today, and I know He is smiling down on me too. I've been so lost these last few months, trying so hard to understand what I am supposed to do? What am I supposed to be learning? I will continue to ask, but not today. I am grateful this is a feeling I will never ever forget.

LABELS: HEARING, HOPE, KELLY CONROY, LOVE, MAYO CLINIC, PEACE 

Mom's Funeral

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2013

Mom's Funeral

My nephew Ronny 

November 19, 2013, Tuesday
Today, my sisters and I attended the funeral services for our mother. It's difficult to describe how I felt. I was drawn closer to her by listening to her cousin, Mary Joyce, speak of mom's earlier years when she was a young girl and teenager. Mom never talked much about those days, so it was nice to hear and learn about her life's fun, happy side. All is Holy in the house of God, and I was trying my hardest to feel heaven there.

Linda, Myself, and Dottie (Linda's mom)

Linda is one of my besties- I love her.

Susan and Ron Lundberg (mom's closest friends)

 I am grateful for my friends who supported me and did not let the influence of "not knowing" my mom keep them from coming to support me. I needed you there, and I so appreciate Millie. We have been friends for 15 years. She had no idea of my life before Gilbert, yet because of her Christian spirit, she came and loved me through it. She also brought enchiladas to my family for Sunday dinner. She will and always be close to my heart. Linda, my friend from childhood, she and her mother drove far to be here, and I will always love Linda for her unconditional love, especially having known my parents made it special to me to have her there. Last, my dear friend Jenny Ruttinger texted me and said, "I know this will be hard for you. I will be sitting with you," and she did. We've been through a lot together in the past 20+ years. No questions asked. I knew she would be there for me. Eric and I decided we wanted to position ourselves perfectly to see and watch Stephen Phelps play the organ. I always feel the spirit and peace when I listen to him play. He and his wife have been a tremendous example for me as we have tried to raise our children by their example. Eric and I spoke about him many times this past week, knowing it would be difficult for him physically to play, and it would have been OK if he couldn't come, but he did, and I know he did it just for me. I love you, Stephen and Carolei. You have been an example to me for over 20 years and continue to amaze me with your loving hearts.

Jenny--I love you

November 20, 2013, Wednesday
As I post this, Eric and I are in Mexico, spending some time at our condominium. He needed to fix our freezer (well, I say him, but those of you who know my "Tim, the tool man" knows he will hire someone to fix it.)  He wanted me to come last week and was leaving for Mexico on the day he got the text from me saying my mother had passed. This week he has been begging me to come with him, and I have not wanted to go, mostly because I think some of those depression and unresolved issues are unsettling. Eric knows me so well. He knew if I stayed home, I would lay around and try to figure out the whys. Then became depressed and anxious, so I'm glad I came with him.

 Being here draws me closer to Heavenly Father. I can sit on the sand, watch the ocean waves come gently in and out and see the hand of the Lord pick me up and keep me from getting carried away in those waves. Honestly, I have so many emotions stirring up inside of me. Although what I am saying is entirely from my heart, and I am being true to myself, I know it will confuse some people.

I want to remember and write some of my fond memories of mom. Our kitchen was always our gathering place, and I loved sitting, watching, and learning from her. There were 3 things I remember distinctly about my mom during Christmas--she always made Red Velvet Cake and sprinkled the green and red sparkles to top it off. She also taught me how to make her Cranberry Meatballs, a Christmas Eve Tradition in our home. Lastly, she made cheese balls and gave them to friends and anyone she knew who needed a little boost during the holidays. Eric and I still carry on this tradition, so if you get a cheese ball during the holiday month, it's because our family loves you--DON"T THROW IT AWAY. Mom grew her own small cucumbers and taught me how to pickle them. I loved her homegrown pickles. I went to a girls' camp every year, and she was there. It was comforting to have my mom with us at Camp Lo Mia; all the girls in the Stake loved her. I wanted to be just like that. I wanted to work in Young Women's like she did, go to girl's camp like she did, and enjoy all the blessings from serving in YW. I have not had an opportunity to serve in the YW program for more than 6 months, but I was able to be our ward camp director for several years. I also remember my mom giving me the first compliment I can remember. She said, "Monya, you can get upset or mad, spit it out, then let it go; I like that about you" When Elvis Presley died, I was mowing the lawn and remember coming into the house to get a drink of water, she was crying, she really loved music, that is probably why I love music so much. I'll never forget telling my mother over the phone that my brother had died; she was heartbroken; she screamed "No, no" repeatedly and then threw the phone.

Mom is with Lance now.

I have tried to write and re-write to avoid offending anyone; I've decided journaling is a good thing for ME (maybe not how YOU would handle it) to be real; I've hidden for too many years. So--to all of you who have written me emails criticizing me for the things I blog about all I can say to you, my intentions are in the right place and coming from an authentic real me. You did not live my life and are not living my journey now. You saw my mom give endless hours of service to others, including some of you, and she did it not because she was Relief Society President, she did it because she wanted to serve; I'm so grateful for her example to me in that regard, and for the last thing on this subject, those of you who have emailed me with your criticism, I noticed not one of you took time to show your respect to my mother and come to her funeral. So please do not bother sending me a follow-up email--I said it, was upset about what you said, and now I'm over it. This is in the Lord's hands now, and I honestly believe my mother wanted the goal that myself and my sisters wanted, for our family to put the pieces of the puzzle back together, but it is difficult to do that when you cannot admit parts are missing. I tried many times to mend this relationship and was given a blessing with confirmation that this will not be resolved in this lifetime. Unless hearts were softened and sorrow was shown. I realize this was difficult for my mother but was necessary on her part for our relationship to continue--she made her choices--and we have all had to deal with that decision. Mom did the best she knew how to do. I will see her again, and the Lord will solve all earthly issues. Thank you, Linda, for permitting me to express my feelings here. If you have problems, please email Linda.

Beautiful Casket

Greg dedicated the grave.

 I believe our lives are like ocean waves, constantly moving, sometimes those waves are further out than we can reach, but they eventually rise to meet me in a solemn comforting manner--when they do -- all is quiet and calm, especially in my heart where I need it the most. I am grateful my mother is peaceful with a completely healthy body. Still, I need some guidance; I believe there can be healing even in the deepest of graves--when we humble ourselves and allow the spirit to speak--but not all is calm in my heart right now--I feel lonely and vulnerable, and I know no-one on this earth can understand what I am feeling--not even my sister Sonya--she said she felt a warm blanket of "comfort" around her during the funeral--why didn't I feel that? Am I not worthy enough for that feeling?

When my brother Lance died, I felt so guilty for not doing more to help him; it was a heavy burden I was carrying; I knelt and prayed one night for comfort and peace to fill my soul, for the Lord to let me know Lance was OK. That night as I knelt waiting for an answer, I felt my brother's hand on mine, and his voice, as clear as day, said, "This is the Lord's will, not yours; I am happy" Because of that experience I was able to move forward in faith and HOPE knowing without a doubt Lance was in a good place.

 It was the start of healing when I could be at mom's bedside and say, "I forgive you," before she passed on. It was a tender moment, and I know she heard me.

During the funeral, my mother's dearest friend Susan spoke and told memories she had of my mom. She said from her heart that she really loved my mom, something I will always be grateful for. While she was speaking, I thought of a talk given by Elder Bednar at the General Conference in October of 2009. He talked about family love; he said that no wife, daughter, son, or husband should hear the words "I love you" for the first time from the pulpit--this is what I heard--but not from my mom from her friend. I wish I had heard "I love you and am proud of you" from my mother's lips. All I can do now is to make sure everyone I genuinely love and care for not only hears it but KNOW it. I understand mom may not have been able to express her love to me because I'm not really sure if she was told as a child--maybe she was never taught by example--I don't know--all I know for sure is when I held each and every one of my children in my arms for the 1st time I loved them--unconditionally loved each one of them. I guess forgiveness does not always leave you with peace and happiness. This part will come to me in the Lord's time--It always does-so for now, I love you, mom, and I know you did the best you could.