Hi! My name is Abigail. I finished my mortal mission in a little spec of eternity you call July 2013.
Now I'm in the Spirit World and can help my family and friends (that's everyone) from this side of the veil. Some people get a little uneasy talking about "spirits" but I'm here to tell you we're not scary. My body died, but I'm still alive. My body was destroyed and really needed a break, but I'll have it again soon. You'll have to trust me on the issue of timing. It won't be long, promise.
A month before I came here, my mommy was holding me and I told her "I will keep you forever." It took her by surprise that I came up with that on my own, but I knew what I was saying. I reinforced it later a few times by telling her, "I will keep you forever in my world, " and "I will keep you forever in my life". I meant exactly what I said.
This little piece of world wide web is a place my mom can continue to write and record her feelings--her progress, I like to call it. I know it's helping a few of you, too.
Remember who you are--really are--and that many of us are excited to see you all again, too. Eternity is a very long time and I have to keep reminding my mom "I will keep you forever".

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

April flowers, April pain

I don't remember experiencing these feelings last April. Probably because April 2014 was our first April here in Virginia, and the newness of actually having a Spring overshadowed emotions. Or possibly because it was a gift from heaven to be protected that month from these emotions.

But this year, April has been emotional. All of a sudden, the white daffodils popping up everywhere weren't just beautiful, they were reminders of a raw, poignant time with Abigail on her painful journey.

This picture was taken May 2, 2013, five months after her cancer relapsed and I knew she would die. She and I had flown to Michigan for her monthly scans. Unknown to us, this would be our last medical trip to Michigan. In fact, the flight back home to AZ would be her 33rd and final airplane flight. Her scan a few days before this picture showed new cancer all over; the radioactive isotope lit up the new cancer along her entire spine like a Christmas tree. It didn't surprise me, but was such unwelcome, unwanted, horrible news.

Pain medications--strong opioids--reduced the message getting to her brain that she was experiencing pain. And so we went for a little walk outside of the hospital. We found a small grassy area to enjoy, and just down the hill from the grass, were these beautiful flowers! Now, being from Arizona, these flowers were nothing short of amazing! Abigail sat in them so I could take her picture, being careful to keep her arms tucked in so the daffodil blades didn't poke her. She made these flowers look even more beautiful.

I didn't know then that because I took those pictures, daffodils would later be painful to look at.

A dear friend told me that the second year of grieving can be harder than the first. I find in many ways this is true, and in other ways, nothing ever compares to the first year. So it's fun all around!

Today marks 21 months without her.

Thankfully, with April also comes Easter and General Conference. There is nothing that compares to the peace Jesus brings into life. Even amidst heartache. They are not exclusive.
The clamor that reverberates across the earth because of worldly wickedness creates feelings of vulnerability. With modern communication the impact of iniquity, inequality, and injustice leaves many feeling that life is inherently unfair. As significant as these trials can be, they must not distract us from rejoicing in and celebrating Christ’s supernal intercession in our behalf. The Savior literally “gained the victory over death.” With mercy and compassion He took upon Himself our iniquity and transgressions, thus redeeming us and satisfying the demands of justice for all who would repent and believe on His name.
His magnificent atoning sacrifice is of transcendent significance beyond mortal comprehension. This act of grace provides the peace that surpasses understanding. The Lord is My Light
My heart overflows with gratitude at the same time that my pain vessels overflow from the wound of her physical separation. I love the eloquent words of Jeffrey R. Holland, who said,
So today we celebrate the gift of victory over every fall we have ever experienced, every sorrow we have ever known, every discouragement we have ever had, every fear we have ever faced—to say nothing of our resurrection from death and forgiveness for our sins. That victory is available to us because of events that transpired on a weekend precisely like this nearly two millennia ago in Jerusalem
That first Easter sequence of Atonement and Resurrection constitutes the most consequential moment, the most generous gift, the most excruciating pain, and the most majestic manifestation of pure love ever to be demonstrated in the history of this world. Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of God, suffered, died, and rose from death in order that He could, like lightning in a summer storm, grasp us as we fall, hold us with His might, and through our obedience to His commandments, lift us to eternal life.
Where Justice, Love, and Mercy Meet

To quote myself from "Abigail's Story" on her carepage:
Eternally grateful we are sealed together for eternity. The pain of physical separation is more immense than I ever imagined. We continue on, living each day with faith.