Just Because

So, here is an entry I wrote about three months after Katherine's passing, it is a true and somewhat raw/emotional account of the events that unfolded following her passing, proceed with caution:

We parted ways with our home teacher and bishop at the hospital with the assurance that the bishop would call Alice Wheeler and let her know that we would need her services.

As we were leaving the building my first and only thought was that we were going to have a small service, maybe the grandparents would be able to make it. Both of our families live far away from Denver and although supportive and caring, do not make it here very often. I had absolutely no expectations of anyone except the grandparents to come. I pictured in my mind that the services would be a simple grave side with a small group of people in attendance. I guess I thought that people would not think it was a big deal and that their lives would be too busy to come support and help. I thought this because that was what has been proven to me in the past. But, a sudden and unexpected death changes people’s lives and perspective. I have come to realize that now.

I do not really remember what we had talked about on the way home. I remember Mike saying he wanted to write some things about Katherine, I said that was fine. Coming home was weird, quiet, empty. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt out of sorts and numb. I could not believe what had just happened. Could Heavenly Father really just taken away my baby? Did it happen? The laundry needed to be put in the dryer, I placed it in there. Then the door bell rang thus beginning what I refer to as the “Open House.” All of a sudden my home went from being a residence for six to a residence of dozens. It was a flurry of people who came by from the ward. There were people in and out in and out. People stayed for hours at a time. Some people came and stayed then went home to feed their families and then returned for the evening. I remember the bishop sitting in my front room for a couple of hours that night. People were milling around the house, in and out of every room. Somehow my clothes were folded and then a lot of Katherine’s things were taken out of the house. Her pack and plays were folded down and many of her clothes were actually removed and I do not know where they went. Her drawers were placed in the closet and all her blankets were folded and placed there as well. I do not really remember people asking me if that was alright, but there were many things that I do not really remember about this part of the grieving process.

By the time my parents arrived around 10:00 p.m. that night, my house was filled to the brim with people from the ward. It seemed that the men were sitting in the living room and the women were sitting in the front room. Neighbors, friends, ward members were sitting in all available space on the floor and on the stairs. My parents arrived and then people cleared out for the night. That night I remember my mom saying to me that my younger brother Reed was very upset about what had happened. He was willing to do anything for me, anything I wanted. That was the first time since the time I found Katherine that it began to occur to me that this event was going to be much bigger that I had originally anticipated.

My brother Reed lives quite far in St. George, Utah. He teaches seminary for the church and I know that he has two other jobs to make ends meet. It would be a huge sacrifice for him to come. It is a long drive up to Denver. I know because I have made that drive more than once. If he was coming, well, who else was coming was my thought. Then that is when my mom who became my advocate, spokesperson, confidant, began to give the list of the people who were planning to come. My head began to reel and I began to start freaking out. How could I possibly accommodate all these people? What would we eat? Who would pay for it? How can I be a good hostess to many family members who have never even seen any of my homes in Denver? Why are they coming when they have never come before? Do they care that much? Is this what death brings about? My utter fear of losing control came to the forefront. These are just some of the thoughts and questions that went through my mind that night. You must realize that I am only referring to my side of the family who was planning to come. These numbers do not count Mike’s family who is larger than mine.

My parents said goodnight and then went to the hotel with the promise of returning the next morning. That first night was like all the nights between finding Katherine and then laying her to rest. When you are grieving the nights are brutal, agonizing, consuming, utterly and completely sleepless. I also had decided to not eat anything as well. I began a week long fast. I ate nothing. I drank only sips of water to keep from being de-hydrated. In my grieving mind I thought that I could not eat because my baby was not eating. As a mother you are accustomed to eating only after the kids eat. I felt like I could not eat until after Katherine ate. But the problem was Katherine was no longer here, she did not have to eat. But I did have to eat, I just could not. The thought of putting food in my mouth made me gag. I simply could not do it. I did not do it until after she was buried. My first real meal was at the lunch following the burial. Then and only then did I feel like I could eat. It took quite sometime for my appetite to return to normal.

The next day dawned and then Alice Wheeler came by to go over some of the beginning of the plans for the funeral arrangements. This is about the time when I began to give up any hope that it would be a small, quiet service. It seemed to me that Mike just took the whole thing over. He made a lot of the decisions and told me what they were. He told me that we were having a viewing and a funeral. He told me what the program was going to be. He told me who was speaking and what songs were being chosen. I felt smothered, buried in shock, disbelief, and grief. I all but gave up. I gave into the demands because I felt like there was no choice in the matter.

We were told that the place of burial needed to be chosen and Mike decided on Fairmount because he drove past it everyday. I consented because there was no choice but to consent. It felt like we could not have a disagreement or a discussion over it because there were too many people around. We just did not have a quiet moment to have any time to ourselves. That made things very difficult.

We then drove out to Fairmount to pick out the plot and pay for their services. During the drive there, we received a phone call from the Coroner’s Office saying that the autopsy was complete and they were releasing Katherine to Alice. We were told that there were no visual signs of the cause of death and no signs of abuse.

I feel like a side story needs to be told here about talking to Alice later that day. After we had gotten back from Fairmount, Alice called and told me that she was holding Katherine. This was very hard for me to hear. This was the first time since the hospital that someone I knew was caring for her. This was a difficult time for me, very transitional. My baby was no longer here, but yet she was here. It was heart breaking, devastating to me as a mother to think about my dead baby being held by a funeral director being driven to the funeral home. Alice tenderly told me that Katherine was being so good, and that she looked really well. Unknown to me prior to this experience, is that after someone dies and the immediate effects of death have passed, they pink up and the coloring becomes better. This is what happened with my beautiful baby. She had pinked up and looked really well, at peace. I sobbed on the phone right along with Alice with this news. It was such a relief to know that she looked better, that she was “feeling” better. I know that her body was at peace, her body was at rest. If my memory serves me correctly, this was the first time I remember crying about what happened to my sweet Katherine.