I asked Patsy this morning while we were greeting a new day in bed, "Tell me your memories of Adrienne this morning." Somewhat wistfully she responded, "I wish I had more memories of her."
She came to #LIGHTtheWORLD in our family. Her headstone identifies her as "Our Lighthouse in the Storm." Her mortal flame flared quickly and brightly and then it was extinguished too soon.
It was fifteen days before Christmas. After the funeral and burial we continued to stumble around in a stupor of thought, unable to gather ourselves to get Christmas ready for the children. I remember distinctly wandering aimlessly through the old Crossroads Mall downtown looking helplessly for Christmas gifts without success. Nothing seemed appropriate or meaningful to us. I think we finally settled on sweaters for everyone in one store, wide selection in sizes and styles, and I don't even remember the brand name but they were cool enough to satisfy my numbed mind. I'm sure we picked up more than that, but honestly it was all a blur. Our hearts weren't ready to move on from Adrienne.
I was stuck. It took me about a year to finally get back to some semblance of normalcy again. What happens in traumatic events like this one is a sense that you have lost control over the simplest of tasks. The brain is assaulted and then shuts down. For months afterward emotion would come welling to the surface over seemingly disconnected stimuli. The trauma would start afresh and the memories were still raw and sharp.
Everything about Christmas suggests light during the darkest time of the year - until finally around Christmas day we hit the winter solstice and the longest night of darkness in the annual calendar. We know the correct time of the Savior's birth was in the spring at Passover time in Jerusalem because of modern revelation and the statements of the living prophets (see D&C 20:1). But we celebrate Christmas in the darkest time of the year as a powerful symbol of light conquering darkness.
I have been asked many times in the ensuing years by many people what the most traumatic experience of my life was, and most would assume it was this time of our lives. However, after the events of this past year I would say without hesitation that brain surgery eclipses everything else that resembles a definition of "traumatic." The paradox is that through the adversity has come an abiding and deepening conviction of Christ's love for me and my family.
I remember one night shortly before surgery when I was comforted with the knowledge that my father and my mother were nearby and fully aware of my circumstances. Another night after surgery while rehabbing Dianne told me she called down Adrienne to provide comfort and protection in case I fell down getting to the bathroom in the middle of the night. In that same period of time my departed brother Drew also provided protection. I was being aided by help from beyond the veil and they embodied #LIGHTtheWORLD ministrations for me personally when I was so compromised I could not do much of anything for myself.
So which Christmas do I remember best? The year of 1992 will always remind me of the Light of the World, the birth of a Holy Infant in a lowly manger stall in Bethlehem. He brought peace to all who would come to Him throughout his mortal ministry and to those of us who can still come today.
But perhaps the COVID-19 year of 2020 will also be memorable as I look back. Though Adrienne's mortal life was a short seven weeks, the life of our Lord and Savior spans infinity and will never be extinguished. He assures us that our eternal lives also involve infinite boundaries.
He conquered death, spiritual and physical, for all the inhabitants of this Earth and all the other worlds our Father has created.
