Category: Mother

I Choose to Grieve

On By HeartofHuntIn Faith, grief, Hope, Loss of a Child, Mother, Service, thedallindifference2 Comments

How can it be five years? How can it be, outside of cherished photos and treasured memories, five long years, since I have seen your face, been uplifted by the warmth of your smile or felt your famous hugs? How can it be when I long to talk to you, smell your cologne, hear your laughter or soak in your essence and learn from your wisdom, I am painfully reminded of the giant chasm that separates us? How can it be that someone so good and kind and such a vital and important part of so many lives is simply gone?

Yes, this is the day when all of these questions and so many more beg to be answered. This is the day Heavenly Father called my son Dallin home, the day that forever altered our existence, the day when taking this life for granted came to a blunt and brutal end. For the most part I have learned to navigate this unexpected detour, put on a happy face, rely on faith and quell my inner turmoil to a minimum. But there is always a dull ache in my heart, a wound that never quite seems to heal, a hole in my soul that, on days like today, seems to swallow me. And that is okay . . .

I believe when you lose a child there is a protective numbness that becomes part of your being. For awhile this detachment helped me function, but it also dulled my senses. It shielded me from pain but it also robbed me of joy. It was a way to cope and move forward with my loss without succumbing to the many debilitating forms of grief. Slowly I have come to understand it is not healthy to live in a numbed existence, to bottle up grief; it needs somewhere to go. Allowing myself a time and place to grieve deeply is a way for me to break out of the numbness and be true to myself. So especially today I choose to grieve. I choose to allow my profound sorrow to wash over me, to remind me of what I have lost. I do not do this to feel sorry for myself or encourage pity. I do this because I loved and still love my son, with all of my mother’s heart. I ache for his physical presence. I mourn the future I would have had with him. I do this to feel, really feel all of the raw emotions both sad and happy because you cannot have one without the other. Today is a difficult and heartbreaking day. It is also a day I more fully remember Dallin and everything he lived for. As I continue to set my grief free, I will look for opportunities to honor Dallin’s memory by sharing his examples of service, love and unrestrained enthusiasm with everyone I meet.

Happy Angelversary my precious son.
Yo Mama loves you.Dallin James Hunt

Mamas

On By HeartofHuntIn Faith, Hope, Loss of a Child, MotherLeave a comment

Sepia CowsWe have spent the last couple of weeks gathering cows and weaning calves. The non-stop work has been made more difficult, this year, by the excessive wind and dust, a relentless reminder of the drought we find ourselves in. Although tired, dirty and dreading the two and a half hour drive home, I had been able to keep my mind occupied on the tasks at hand. Suddenly my attention was drawn to the drama unfolding a few yards from where I was parked. Brad had just loaded about 25 head of freshly weaned calves and had stepped away to help some of our cowboys get on the road to their homes and families. A heavy cloud of dust was churning around the truck and trailer in front of me. Several mama cows were trying to get to their babies. The cows were frantically calling to their calves; the calves were anxiously calling back for their mamas. The scene wrenched at my heart; unwelcome memories came stampeding back. I was transported back to the day I had just dropped my mama off from the baby shower we had attended, celebrating the anticipated arrival of Dallin’s first-born child. I was headed back to North Ogden to work on some scenery when I answered my phone. The voices were disjointed, and full of emotion. There had been an accident. Dallin was being Life-Flighted to the hospital. “Get here as fast as you can!” I immediately turned around. I was over 346 miles from my injured son and could do nothing but curse the distance between us. I screamed. I cried. I shook the steering wheel, willing this to not be true. I bargained and pled with God to please spare my boy.

My thoughts were interrupted as the mama cows grew more distressed, their cries more desperate. I noticed blood on the forehead of one of the mamas as she kept scraping against the trailer trying to find an opening. Several times one or more of the cows stopped to look at me as if to say, “Help us. Can’t you see our babies are somewhere we can’t go?” My eyes filled with tears. I cried out in maternal solidarity. “I know exactly how you feel.” The scene intensified as Brad returned, hopped in the truck and pulled down the dirt road. The cows ran behind the trailer until they could no longer keep up. I wept as I followed them.

It has been almost five years since Dallin left this earth. In many ways it seems like it happened on a far away planet . . . in another lifetime . . . hazy and out of focus. Yet, in the snap of a finger, powerful, turbulent, aching emotions bring everything back, in painful clarity, as if it all happened yesterday. This journey has taught me there will always be expected and unexpected triggers that bring these raw emotions to the forefront. Grief is the price we sometimes pay for the gift of love. We who have lost children, no matter the cause, will feel, at times, like those mama cows, hopeless, helpless and even angry. We would do all in our power to have our children back with us, happy and whole, enjoying the future we once took for granted. But until we are reunited, AND WE WILL BE, the only solace we have is in the arms of the One who bore all pain and sorrow, the One who broke the chains of death, the One who notes even the fall of a tiny sparrow or the painful separation of a mama cow and her calf . . . the One who will tenderly wipe away our tears, as we bathe His feet in them. I look forward to that day with all of my heart.

My Mother’s Eyes

On By HeartofHuntIn Gratitude, Hope, Joy, Mother, Uncategorized1 Comment

My Mother

This time each year I face the same dilemma . . . what can I give to my mother for Mother’s Day? The struggle begins weeks before the second Sunday of May, and continues until in exasperation, I come to the sad realization there is nothing grand enough, beautiful enough, or perfect enough to express my feelings for her. After all how does one show adequate gratitude for the person who gave them life? And not just life, as in a physical body, but life as in the living part of life, the nurturing, lifting, believing, experiencing part of life. All that I am is due, in the most significant ways, to the love and example of my mother. One of my mother’s most striking features has always been her eyes, not just because of their beauty but because they truly are windows into an extraordinary soul. I can remember from my earliest memories the gentleness of my mother’s eyes. It was within the safety of her devoted gaze, I flourished. She taught me to explore my world by patiently celebrating my inquisitiveness, even when my “whys” exceeded the hours in a day. I learned to appreciate the beauty of nature and the sacredness of life, in all of its forms, through her eyes. The colors of a spectacular sunset, the delicate petals of a tiny flower, the scent of fresh rain, the autumn breeze against my cheek, the soft mew of a newborn kitten, these were her teaching tools in an amazing classroom of infinite possibilities. Her eyes shone with contented happiness as she sang comforting lullabies and would dance in delight as she harmonized with my father. I loved hearing them sing together! Her eyes held in them my first experiences with God. My mother’s love for the Lord radiates from her eyes. Her quiet, unwavering testimony, expressed in hushed and reverent tones, encouraged me to search out and find my place in His universe. Her eyes reveal the truth of a loving Father in Heaven, who knows who I am and loves me beyond what I am capable of understanding. Growing up, it was her eyes I looked up to for approval and where I found the courage and confidence to try and try again when I failed. Her eyes believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. Her eyes have always reflected unconditional love; she taught me love is not reserved for only those who are easy to love, but especially for those who are most difficult to love. Her eyes taught me about pain and grief as she mourned with those who mourned, when she watched helplessly as children stumbled, lost their way and struggled back to their feet. I have watched her eyes carry profound sadness when cherished loved ones passed away, yet found the strength to look up and always trust in God’s plan. I have felt deep sorrow and exquisite joy through her eyes. Her eyes inspired me to become a mother. I knew being a mother was something special, something to look forward to, something to embrace and celebrate. As I have experienced motherhood in all of its euphoric gloriousness and unexpected messiness, I have come to realize that sometimes my mother’s eyes bore the faint, almost unrecognizable traces of personal hopes and dreams swallowed up in the hopes and dreams of her family. Yet she will be the first to tell you, these were willing sacrifices and she’d gladly make them again. Her eyes have no “greater joy than to ‘see’ her children walk in truth.” – 3 John 1:4. My mother’s eyes may have dimmed with age, but I still look to them for guidance, reassurance, and most of all love. Even if I could master a musical instrument, or sing with the voice of an angel, or write a touching sonnet, or create a lasting piece of art, it would all fall short of the desire of my heart. I long to express to her beyond words, or feelings or sight, that I am, and forever will be, grateful to be HER daughter. I am grateful to have had the chance to see myself in and through her eyes. And I want, with all of my heart, each of my children to see in my eyes, what I have always seen in my mother’s eyes . . . love in its truest most beautiful, eternal form.