Love of Laurenisms

I feel that a lightening of tone may be in order as my story has not been an easy one to write and I imagine has also been difficult to read. So I'd  like to introduce you all to something our family has always affectionately referred to as "Laurenisms". I fully realize that all children say cute little things that make families laugh and some even jot them down in baby books to remember for all time. I know this is not unique to my child but this blog is about her so you will have to bear with me.
Lauren had a tendency to make words up. For example, Ray and I had the hardest time breaking her of saying "lastday" instead of yesterday. Which actually makes a lot more sense. At Christmas time she sang her own version of Jingle Bells in which the verse went "Jingle bells, jingle bells all da all da way". She would also pronounce words interestingly including donning her "babing suit" for swimming or requesting "somping" to drink from the kitchen. When Ray and I were shopping for travel trailers Lauren would ask if we were going to look at more "carhouses." Again, made sense.
The very first time Ray and I left Lauren with my parents for an out of town trip for the weekend I was missing her immensely. This was my very first time away from her over night. We were visiting Ray's father up in Jacksonville. I was still attending college and had taken time to fit in some studying at the dining room table. Ray was in the kitchen and I asked him something. He responded in typical Lauren fashion by saying "What? What? What you say?" It made me cry. I was already missing her and hearing him use her tag phrase made me miss her even more. She used this saying so much when she was little that my sisters even joked that we should honor her now by getting tattoos of this famous Lauren response. My oldest sister would get "What?" tattooed on her body (exact location never discussed), my middle sister would also get "What?" and I would in turn tattoo "What you say?" on myself. Then when we stood together it would spell out the entire phrase that my special little girl used instead of just saying "HUH?" or "What?" Leave it to my sisters to sign me up for the longest portion of the epitaph on my delicate skin. Needless to say we were just brainstorming....there will be no tats.
Sometimes Lauren would use the wrong word. Like the time my mother asked what she wanted on her pizza when they were in a restaurant. Lauren proceeded to tell her she wanted bologna. My mom asked if she was sure she wanted bologna. Lauren said "Yeah, you know those circle meat thingys on pizzas"....."Uhhh, you mean pepperoni?" my mother asked.
But I think the ultimate story of switching words was from when Lauren was in the 5th grade. Yes, old enough to know better. I was blessed to have had the opportunity to work at several schools where Lauren was able to attend with me. It just so happened that I worked at her school when she was in the 5th grade. Therefore I was known by all of the faculty and staff. I never called in sick. When you have young children you very rarely can afford to utilize a sick day on yourself. I had ignored my own deteriorating health condition to the point that I developed pneumonia. The doctor gave me an option....he would check me into the hospital for a few days or I could to take time off to rest. I gave my word, received a nebulizer with medication, and was sent on my way. Ray proceeded to take Lauren to school as I remained home to rest and recover.
About two days into my respite I started receiving strange emails and phone calls. The tone of these messages implied a greatly inflated level of concern for my current medical condition. I thought "Wow, I work with the nicest folks."
It wasn't until a phone call from a concerned colleague that the root of the issue came out. As I was chatting with this coworker she seemed very worried about me. She inquired when I was going to start "treatment". I was puzzled and the only thing I could think of was the nebulizer. "Well....I just finished a breathing treatment and that seems to have helped a great deal." "Really!" she gasped. "That's what they do for this now?"
OK...now I'm really confused. What in the world is going on here. So I had to ask..."What exactly do you think I'm dealing with here?"
"Well Lauren told us that you have leukemia."
Really? WOW!!! We NEVER let her live this one down.

Girl lost

After the young and polite trooper told me my daughter was gone the rest of the day is a blur. Phone calls....I made many phone calls. First to my mom who could barely understand me as I tried desperately to communicate my horrific message through tears of utter despair. Then to my ex-husband Ray who was in town due to the birth of his first grandchild. I thank God he was near by and was spared from making the three hour trip from his house in Jacksonville while distraught. God makes things line up beautifully even in the most tragic of times.
These calls were closely followed by calls to my sisters, both of whom live in the immediate area. Everyone arrived at the house within half an hour. I waited until a semi-decent hour to call my pastor, supervisor with the school system and the owner of the restaurant in which I work part time. I work there to have extra money for college for Lauren. I plan to continue to work there because I like people, pure and simple. But more on that later.
Hours went by with little information. The officers had left an informational sheet with contact numbers for the crash investigator and the traffic homicide investigator. I called the numbers but the office opened at 8:00 am....it was 4:55. Homicide investigator struck me hard. This was all starting to become too real. At this point I was still praying for it to be a terrible mistake. In my mind I knew everything matched up, the vehicle, the number of occupants, the direction they were heading and the location, but my heart was desperately crying out "Let it not be so.....this just can't be true." And like a ton of bricks something hit me. I asked my husband Kevin, "Where is she? Where is my baby?" And I cried, again.
Now I'd like to take a moment to share with you that I am a Christian. I am strong in my faith and I trust in my Lord with all of my heart and soul. I believe unwaveringly that my Lauren was already with her Savior. I even believe she was watching all of this unfold and more than likely wanted to help ease the pain of all of those affected by her death.
Yet even knowing all of this I struggled with the fact that I did not know where her body was. No one told me where they had taken my child. I perseverated on this for hours. Was she cold and her body broken? Had she suffered terribly before help arrived or was her death swift and merciful? Was she still at the scene or had she been taken to a hospital? Was she already at the morgue? All I knew is that she was not here. Not with me and she never would be again.

Doorbell of dread

4:14 am. That is what time the doorball rang. My husband Kevin turned to me and said "Who is ringing our doorbell at 4:00 in the morning?" It's one of those questions that people ask one another but in actuality don't expect a response. I mean, how was I supposed to know. But I answered anyway, "I don't know." By the time Kevin had stood and was zipping up his shorts (he sleeps in his boxers, calm down) the doorbell blared for a second time cutting into the silence yet again and this time arousing one of our dogs. The one who barks.
The close proximity in time of these two jarring rings indicated some level of insistance on the part of the person at the door and also ruled out a neighborhood prank. My mind started spinning. I feared that it might be news about my parents, both of whom are in their 70's and live right around the corner. My mother had not been feeling well earlier that day. At this point I too shot out of bed, grabbed my robe and headed down the hall to the front door.
Nothing, I mean absolutely nothing in all of my 42 years could have prepared me for what was about to happen. As I rounded the corner at the end of the hall I saw Kevin standing with the front door ajar. He was answering a question "Is your wife Kimberly Jahn and is she home?" the young Florida State Trooper asked. "Yes", Kevin answered as I arrived in the front foyer. As I approached the door the trooper asked if I was Kimberly Jahn. I said yes. "Do you have a 19 year old daughter named Lauren Phillips?"
Now I am an educated lady who reads often and I tend to know pretty well how "things" work. I was painfully alert enough to know exactly what was coming next. Troopers don't come to the door the tell you to go to the hospital. Have you ever watched a scene in a movie where the actor is underwater and attempting to understand what people above the surface are saying? Just floating there in the water while muffled voices can be heard but the message is not clear. At that precise moment I dove head first into the deep end. I realize a lot was said but it all seemed so distant. I remember feeling the urge to glance behind me hoping to discover the person the trooper was really meaning to deliver this news to because it certainly couldn't be me. It had to be a mistake. Words jumped out here and there...."three occupants"..."white Cadillac"...."near SR 39".
The only part I remember with razor sharp clarity are the following words "....they all succumbed to their injuries." I recall later thinking "What a polite way to tell a mother that her daughter, her only biological child, is dead."

Bittersweet oblivion

On March 28, 2014 a little after midnight my daughter Lauren Elizabeth Phillips was killed. She was returning home from college to visit her brand new niece born just the night before.  When she and 2 close friends who had come to pick her up at school were a mere 10 miles from home, a driver going approximately 100 mph lost control of his car, crossed the grass median, and collided with their car head on. Lauren occupied the rear seat of the car which went air-borne upon impact and was found upside down in the outer lane of the highway. All four involved in the crash were pronounced dead at the scene.
And I slept. Tucked comfortably in my bed. I had just experienced a full evening. Lauren had competed in a double header softball game for her college, South Florida State College, earlier that evening. Now to say the team performed poorly would be an understatement....so maybe I won't say anything more about that at all. Meanwhile, less than 4 miles away her stepsister, also named Lauren (yes, I married a man with a daughter with the same name as mine) had given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. My daughter Lauren was so elated to be an aunt. She has always loved babies as I will explain in further detail at some later date.
After her game Lauren gave me a big sweaty hug as she ALWAYS did. I shared with her the picture of the newborn baby that my ex-husband had sent to my phone. "Awww...send it to me mom" she said. We all chatted a bit, Lauren, my husband Kevin, a dear family friend Jeff, Lauren's friends Joe and Jenna, and me. Then the coach called from the bus and it was time for her to go. One more hug and a quick "Love you" and she was gone.
Kevin and I made a brief visit to the hospital to meet the new arrival, stopped for a quick bite to eat, and were in bed by 10:00.
Meanwhile, Lauren had arrived back by bus to her school. She had gone quickly into the locker room, peeled off her uniform, and hurriedly met Joe and Jenna in the parking lot. They had followed the bus back. See, during the bus ride, Lauren had been texting me. "I want to come home if I do will you come with me to see the baby"...."Yep" I typed. "Okay, thank you. Can I consider her my niece?"...."Of course!" I wrote. "I'm kinda excited to be an aunt"....my reply was a smiley face.
So excited was she that Lauren hadn't even bothered to drive her car back to the dorm. It was found the next day still parked at the sports facility on campus. So excited that she climbed into the back seat of her friend's car to drive back home in order to get up early the next morning to visit her sister and new niece in the hospital. Early enough to be back at school, which is about an hour and twenty minutes away, in time for softball practice at 11:00 am.
During the ride home Lauren sent a multitude of texts showing off her new niece.  She also maintained a dialogue with her dad, my ex Ray. The last message he received from her was at 12:11. The official accident report estimates the time of impact to have been 12:14.  Lauren's phone, which was most likely still in her hand, was never recovered.
All while I slept. Until 4:14 that morning.

Why I hate waterproof mascara...

I hate waterproof mascara. It is dreadful to apply often times leaving your lashes resembling mutant tarantulas and it never, I mean NEVER wants to come off. I have used soap in the hot shower, cold cream, make-up removal wipes and a variety of oily make-up removers all to no avail. What I manage to always create is a gooby, globby mess resulting in my eyes adorning many less lashes than I began with. So why am I wearing waterproof mascara you ask?
Simple. I never know when I am going to cry. I might cry at a memory that flutters through my mind unexpectedly like a beautiful, elusive butterfly. Or a song that comes on the radio and reminds me. Maybe I will smell something, see something or hear something. I just never know.
Now this is a rather embarrassing predicament to find myself in as I am not normally characterized as a "cryer". As a matter of fact my reputation is completely the opposite. I'm known as a pretty strong gal. I'm the one people lean on in times of need. Let's face it, someone born into this world weighing a whopping 10 lbs 3 ounces aint probably gonna ever be known as dainty.
So why the spontaneous, unpredictable and at times uncontrollable bouts of weeping?
It all started the day my daughter died.