A decade?

I'm sure there are many heavy hearts today.  And rightfully so.  It's been ten years since Georgia left us.  And if by grieving we obtain a softer heart, or a greater reverence for life, or a greater determination to love each other and savor every moment of this sometimes difficult but always beautiful life, then let the grief come.  Let it change us for the better.

I think she appreciates the way we think about her and honor her memory.  I know so many little children who bear her name!  I know so many people who say that the memory of her life inspires them to be better!  I know so many people who are better for having known her! (and I hope that I am one of them)

And while I want to use today to honor her life, and to honor the way the memory of her reminds me to be a better person, I also want to find a way to smile today.  To find joy and laughter, because those things, more than anything, remind me of her.

And so, I will share a story.

The December after Georgia passed away, I was home from college for Christmas break.  I decided to visit her grave site for the first time, and take her a white poinsettia.  I had just met a guy who'd served in Nauvoo with her and, because he was in town for the holidays too, we decided to visit the grave together.

I can remember that day very well: the gray skies, the heavy snow, the coldness in my heart and in my hands.  My mother had described to me where Georgia's grave was located and I listened carefully so I'd be sure to find it.

My friend (whom I'd later marry and raise a family with) and I drove around and around the cemetery looking for it, but we couldn't find it.  We decided that it must be covered in the snow somewhere.  So we drove to where we thought it probably was, and placed the poinsettia in the snow.  I can still see in my mind's eye that lone flower surrounded by the snow on that gray, overcast day. I broke down in tears, and was so glad that I had someone by my side who had known her, and could understand why the loss of her life would affect me so greatly.  Without saying a word, he wrapped his arm around me and just let me cry.

It was a quiet drive home.

But, in talking with my mom that evening, I realized I had actually gone to the wrong cemetery.  No wonder I hadn't found her grave!  It wasn't there!  I had ended up leaving that poinsettia just in some random spot on the ground!   And I had stood there crying in front of a pile of snow and a potted plant.  How ludicrous!  And rather than feeling upset that I'd been to the wrong place, all I could do was laugh at the absurdity of it.  It was like Georgia was reminding me that, even in difficult times, there can be humor and joy and laughter.

So Georgia, while we mourn your passing today, I hope we will also remember the way you lived: with charisma, and joy, and life, and laughter.

With love,
Brittany

Haleigh, Georgia and me at the Columbus, OH temple in 1999