So, I have been meaning to write more about my Katherine. I think that I am at a point now in my grieving process that I am ready to open up more about it and put things out there that may not have been said or discussed. So, I will be doing some of these entries now and then.
So, my first entry involves a story that happened a couple of days after Katherine's passing. During my therapy, I did a lot of writing, so I wrote the story, so now I will write it down for the blog.
"The Service of the Shutters"
In order to begin this story I must go back to the first time that we came to see the house that we now live in. On walking into the home for the first time, I noticed that the front shutters were peeling. The paint had become sun baked and was crumbling off. The appearance some what bothered me upon entrance. However, the rest of the house and the price we paid for it made the shutters seem but a small problem that I could overlook and later fix. As it is when you move into a home, projects come and go. Eventually, in my mind I thought the peeling shutters would be fixed when we paid someone to come and paint the entire exterior of the home. Quite, honestly, I had somewhat forgotten about them.
Now I will flash forward to the days immediately following the passing of our beloved daughter Katherine. Her death at five months of age was such a shock to everyone that people just did not know what to do. They did not know how to serve, help, succor. I felt that those first several days following her passing that my home had become an almost constant open house. All sorts of people in the form of family, friends, and ward members were coming and going all the time. One of the nights of the "open house" there were two relief society sisters in my home who had come by to check on me to see if there was anything that I may need.
I remember standing in the office of our home while my husband was working on Katherine's program for her funeral saying to them there was just nothing else I could think of that they could do for me.
They were practically begging me to say something in order to allow them to serve me. All of a sudden I thought of the shutters. The same shutters that had hung outside my home for over three years peeling and weather worn. I then suggested that they could maybe help me repaint these shutters that have bothered my for three years. My thought was that there were many family members who were coming for the funeral that had never seen my home and it would be nice if the shutters had a new coat of paint.
So, the next thing I know the two angel sisters (for they were angels to me) were outside my front door peeling off some paint chips to take to the store and match the color. About an hour later there were three men from the ward in paint clothes knocking at the door. With them came all the equipment needed to begin the project at 9:30 at night. It was summer and the evening was pleasant, but it was dark.
The darkness of the night did not deter these good brethren from completing their task. By the light of a full moon and some flashlights, they took down the shutters and then decided that the door frame should be painted as well in order to match the newly painted shutters. I stood in awe of these men painting my home, performing such a selfless act of service. That was an overwhelming feeling. They allowed my grieving husband to commune with them as they talked about whatever guys talk about during a paint project.
The project lasted into the wee hours of the morning. I remember drifting in and out of sleep. At some point I heard my blow-dryer in use as they were attempting to speed up the paint drying. Finally, at 1:30 a.m. I heard the drill and knew that the shutters were being placed back on my home and the project was completed.
When you think of service sometimes what comes to mind is bringing in a meal or watching someones children while they go to the doctor. Never in a million years would I ever think that painting someones shutters would have such an impact on my life. But it did. Their act of service buoyed me up during a very difficult time. I testify to you that I know that there good and righteous brothers and sisters in the Gospel truly lived the words spoken by the Savior when we declared: " . . . Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
Yesterday, I did another day of scrap booking at Children's. I spent about 6 hours with Katherine and her memory. These days are very difficult for me. They are bittersweet. Bitter to think that she is gone, but sweet thinking about the joy I will have when I see her again. I love you sweet Katherine, my arms ache to hold you again. I miss you with every breath that I take. I look forward to seeing you again.
