On June 5, 2024, my mother-in-law, Karolynn, unexpectedly passed away. She was 64 years old. Almost two weeks later, I still feel as if I’m in this horrible dream right now and struggling to wake myself up. What happened? How could this happen? Why did this happen? Karolynn had so many beautiful years ahead of her and yet, she did pass away. 

I’m trying to process what happened. Trying to grieve. Trying to be there for my husband, my father-in-law, my brother-in-law, her family and friends, and for my two-year-old son. I’ve never experienced death like this before. I’ve also never been a parent when I’ve lost someone this close to me. 

I relive the evening of her passing over and over again. The shock, the pain, the confusion, the grief, and the heartbreak are still as fresh as they were when I first heard those terrible words from my husband, Joe, that she had died. 

When I had the chance to go into the hospital room where Karolynn lay, I still couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it when I hugged my father-in-law and listened to his pain. I couldn’t believe it even when I saw my brother-in-law and his state of shock. Everything that my own eyes and ears were absorbing and processing just could not be reality.

Nothing seemed real until I held Karolynn’s hand. 

When I held her hand, I actually knew that she had passed away. If I hadn’t seen her, held her, and talked to her in that moment, I still wouldn’t think this is real. The song Amazing Grace will forever be linked to Karolynn because the pastor on staff at the hospital sang Amazing Grace while I was in the room with her holding her hand and promising her that I would take care of her two boys and do everything I could for her husband, Lee. 

I still don’t understand her death and I probably never will. I want this horrible event to just be a nightmare. To just be something I saw in a movie instead of something that continues to unfold in front of my very eyes. To just be something else entirely. 

When I’ve experienced death in the past, there has always been an adult to take care of things, to be there for those who are grieving, to make really hard decisions, and to help with closure. Over the past two weeks - I’ve been that adult. I needed to step up for my husband and my extended family to take care of things, to be there for others, to help the guys make some really difficult decisions, and to try and get closure. 

Karolynn deserved so much better. She earned so many more years on this Earth before her God called her home. I know that death does not only come for the wicked… death comes for everyone. I know that each of us will be called home at some point. What I am angry about is that I feel she was robbed of so many years of joy, laughter, and precious family moments. 

She lived for her two boys, Joe and Chris, and she absolutely adored her only grandson, Jason. Jason just turned two and I grieve the stolen memories and attachment he would have had with her. 

I am angry. I am hurting. I am torn up. My entire family is angry, hurting, and torn up. I know that I am working through my own grief. I know that everyone grieves in their own way. There is a part of me here now that I don’t recognize. This new part of me has built a new room in my mind and heart and I’m not sure if I like the company. The new part of me can compartmentalize more than I ever thought possible. This new part of me can do all of these things in an afternoon:

• Talk with the hospital Chief Nursing Officer without crying, then

• Call the funeral home director to arrange visitation and funeral services with precision-like detail, then

• Sit with my husband and ask him how is doing and what he needs from me and pour every ounce of myself into him, then

• Go to a florist and ask them if I can sit in a room and pick out funeral flowers while bawling my eyes out, call my Mom to ask for her advice, and pay for arrangements hoping I picked the right ones, then

• Stop at my in-laws house where Karolynn’s car is sitting in the driveway and go into their house to see my father-in-law looking through old photos, then

• Go home to play with my son, feed him dinner, and take him to the park, then

• Clean up the house and put in a load of laundry before laying in bed with my husband, then

• Just absolutely crying my guts out with my husband from sharing stories of Karolynn, moments of when I thought of her during the day, what I’m worried about, and what still needs to be done.

I don’t know who this new part of myself is, where she came from, or what I think of her. Maybe she is “survival Elizabeth” who just keeps showing up in the way that is needed. I don’t know. Like I’ve said, when I’ve experienced death in the past, there has always been an adult taking care of all these “things” behind the scenes. Now, that adult is me. 

Here are a couple other things that I know that are irrefutable:

• I am capable of doing more than I ever thought possible, because my husband, father-in-law, and brother-in-law need me to step up. 

• I am so strong, because I have to be right now.

• I am an awesome mother, because my son needs me.

• I am able to ask for help and people are willing to give the help I need, because my village is showing up for me and I’ve never been more thankful. 

Although I will never truly understand why Karolynn passed away so unexpectedly, what I know is that Karolynn has left behind a legacy that emphasizes family, joy, and happiness. No one will ever be able to fill her shoes, to replicate her voice, or to give the love that she gave. Karolynn’s light will forever be the brightest, the clearest, and the happiest light ever shone.