My Hope In Easter

Many years ago, I lost one of my best friends in a car/train wreck.

In so many areas of my life, this wonderful woman was my mentor  I was devastated when  another friend told me of my friend’s death. All who knew me realized that I would be deeply impacted by this loss.

After being told of this incredulous accident, I turned without saying a word and began walking in the gentle autumn rain.As I walked, I lost track of time.  On that evening, I couldn’t tell you  how far I walked. I was lost in the night.

I don’t remember when I finally decided to walk back to my home to care for my young son. I just walked and walked. I could not understand how God could take this mentor from me. I  believed that I was not ready to be without her wisdom or her kindness. She was a guidepost to a broken young mother in a bad marriage. I was undone from this lost. It was my first loss of a close friend to death.

I could not speak of my friend’s death. Months later, I finally gathered enough courage to visit her grave. I was unaware that it was Easter week. I drove over 50 miles to the cemetery where she was buried. When I finally found her grave, the flowers from the funeral were still on her grave. Dead and brown, they were a dismal reminder that death was real. Her grave served as a reminder that the earth had not awakened from its winter slumber. It was a cold and gray April day.

I didn’t know that the flowers and the grave were allowed to stay in this ugly state of affairs until the newly disturbed ground had settled. After this settling, the cemetery keepers would fill the it and plant grass over the site so that it wouldn’t look so bleak.

I was so young and death had no understanding in me, so I became enraged that her grave had been neglected. I went to a local store and bought trash bags and returned the her grave site.

In my business suit and heels, I knelt on the cold ground and began to take those awful ugly dead flowers and their cardboard vases and bag them.

As I pushed these  remembrances into the black bags, the tears flowed down my face. I cried, I prayed, I raged at this cloud covered sky…I didn’t understand.

When I quit, I had 5 trash bags full of the symbols of sorrow and loss. I was covered in mud and I had ruined my heels and suit. I didn’t care. I wanted my mentor, my friend. I wanted her back.

As I looked at the grave where the flowers disguised this scar, I saw with new understanding why the flowers were left on the grave.

They were covering a greater ugliness. They hid the sunken ground, the outline of a rectangle that signaled a new grave. It looked like my barren heart. Completely without color or signs of spring, it was hideous.

I couldn’t let it remain like an open wound. Mud and all, I went to a nearby nursery and bought an Easter Lily. I bought a small garden shovel and returned to the cemetery.

By my friend’s small metal grave marker, I dug a hole the size of the pot that housed the lily  and I planted this living plant. I planted it with the hope of Spring in mind. I needed to see the color of hope in this scar.

As I filled the new hole where the Lily was planted, I heard a song. At first, I couldn’t remember the name of the song. I knew that I had sung this song somewhere so I began humming the melody…then the words began to flood back into my mind…

“…I’ve just seen Jesus, He’s Alive, I’ve just seen Jesus, my precious Lord’s alive..And I knew that He saw me too as if ’till now, I never lived. All that I’d done before, didn’t matter anymore, I’ve just seen Jesus. And I’ll never be the same again.”

It was at that moment,  the season of Easter, Resurrection Sunday, came to life inside of me. Because of this, I would see my friend again.

It took the sweat and the toil of clearing the remains of death and planting a Lily that symbolized the Hope of Easter to bring a fresh and deeper understanding of Life and Death. But, most of all, I had a greater understanding of the  reason for that dark day 2000 years ago when Jesus hung on a Cross.

Through the hope of Jesus, I realized that the ugliness of death was just the prelude to the hope of eternal Spring.

The sting of my friend’s death began to give way to Hope and Spring with a new understanding of Eternity.

Now, more than ever, I hold to the Hope of this Season.

My days with Dan in eternity will outnumber any amount of days that I was with him in this life.

I am beginning to feel Spring in my soul again. I am seeing the sky grow brighter in the East. I find myself saying, ” In the summer, I will….” I am planning ahead instead of standing still in this journey.

I am watching the ugliness that a hard winter brought to my soul being gathered like I gathered those dead flowers.  I am feeling the renewing of hope like I planted that beautiful Lily. My heart is coming out of its barrenness and looking ahead and all that is waiting there.

My hope is  in the Shadow of a Cross and nothing below or above can keep me from knowing the Hope that this Season brings…

One of Dan’s favorite quotes from Scripture was,…” I would see Jesus.”  With Hope  slowingly restoring my broken heart,I am grateful  that I, too, can say with Dan…” I would see Jesus..” Now Dan does……

Immobilized II

Thanks to you all who commented on the Immobilized post.

I was able to get out on Friday, but it was still “tricky” to get around. The roads out here were finally attended to at 3:30 AM on Friday morning. I was awake when the snow plow raked what it could off of the road. At least, it took the ruts down so that I would not bounce in and out of them and find myself in the ditch.

Sunday afternoon, everything was in a major melt mode and the ruts were as bad as before. Later in the day, the snow plow came back through and the pavement was a welcomed sight.

Today, I only had to deal with the refreeze and that was a little challenging at 5:30 AM, but I got to my client’s without incident. But, tomorrow, the forecast is for 3-6 inches of fresh snow and I need to be at the client’s house 30 minutes earlier than usual because the mother is traveling to a new location…

Oh, how I will welcome spring and it takes more and more of me to daily say, “Thank you Lord for another beautiful morning”…

I know that February is the month that we in the “southern” part of Indiana have the most snow and winter woes…please pray for me.

My biggest battle is not the weather, but it is the fear of what the consequences of poor driving conditions or poor driving skills can heap on my fragil state of existence.

As I tried to explain to my employer, I am the only income in this household. I have no one to find me if I am missing, provide for me if I am injured nor keep me safe and warm if I do not work…so I am evaluating each day as to the risk involved and weighing it against loosing the car or my health…

I doubt if it made a dent in her thinking, but that is the way it is when others haven’t experienced what it is to loose a spouse or a livelihood…so, whatever they want to do to me for not venturing out in a Level II Snow Emergency, it is what it is…

This is my reality.

As far as my being grateful, I am truly grateful that my daily needs are met and that I have electricity and warmth. So many in Kentucky are without power and heat. There are some who have been in shelters since the beginning of this mess and they are being told that they may have an additional week or more before power is restored.

Gratitude is never relational, but our awakening to our blessings may be…Gratitude is a way of life and I am striving to learn the lessons that Dan taught me regarding the subject…I am not a fast learning when it comes to things that are against my circumstances, but I am determined to learn. If not for my own benefit, for Dan’s memory…

The Geese

It was a moment that struck me as picturesque. The newly harvested field of corn seem to blend into their gray colored feathers. The only contrast was the black bands around their necks. They were standing perfectly still. This in a field that was a  bounty for the flock standing at attention.

I expected to see them bow their heads and begin feeding on the loose kernels of corn, but instead, they were like soldiers outside Buckingham Palace; erect and still as statues.  What was their focus of vigilance? It was curious.

For me, scenery with geese was nothing out of the ordinary, but I am at a loss as to understand this concrete like behavior. They just stood there facing toward the east.

After 40 minutes or so,  another flock of geese began to circle overhead. Their cries and calls seem to stir the statues in the field. Both the statues and the fliers called back and forth until the arriving band landed on the pond behind the field.  They all began to stir. Those on the pond first and then those in the field began to move and shift into a preflight mode.

In a few minutes, all rose from the earth and circled the pond and field a couple of times. With an unseen signal or a specific cry was sounded and they were off. The lot of them were flying in a predetermined direction. I watched until they were no longer in sight. I was spellbound.

Awestruck by their percision and the timing of the gathering of the flock, I stood amazed by the way they waited on the others to arrive. How did they know that this smaller band was coming?

As an afterthought, I realized, for a moment in time, my thoughts of sadness and loss were suspended to observe one of God’s wonders. I am sure there are those who know much more about the habits and migration of geese than I, but this was so curious to me.

As I contemplated the autumn scene, I wondered as to why they were still here?

 Everyone, even humans, know that the days of ice, snow and unrelenting cold are about to descend upon us, so why are these geese waiting? How did they know to wait for the smaller band of travelers? Why were they not  south  already? Why were they so still and facing east? So many questions about what I witnessed and no answers, but I don’t know if I really want answers. I was lost in wonder.

The first thing to capture my attention was,  while standing in a field filled with food, the total lack of motion by these large birds. I was astounded; not a ruffle of a feather or a bob of their head. How can any living creature stay that still and silent for 45 minutes?

But, the greater mystery is how  were they able to capture my attention and distract me from my constant feeling of loss? For those 45 minutes, I was transported from my loneliness and dread over the approaching holiday season to an attentive observer of that present moment.

After the geese were gone for a while,  i realized that I appreciated those minutes of wonder. I became aware that I found relief from my grief. Because of my curiosity over the behavior of 20-50 geese in a newly harvested field of Indiana, I was mesmerized by the curiosity of the moment.

I think that I saw a glimpse of clearing in the fog of grief in those 45 minutes. I needed the reprieve and comfort while I pondered a mystery that was before me. It gave me hope. Hope that I will begin finding my way out of these continual shadows that live in my heart…

Leave it to God and His creation to fascinate me!  I have always been entranced by the outdoor “Cathedrals” I find in his Creation. I have thrilled to the Majesty of the Red Rocks of Sedona Arizona and I marveled at the wildlife in the wilderness of Prince Albert National Park, Saskatchewan, Canada. These were my heart felt places of worship. 

Just as it was here where my teenage heart called out to God with the intent on knowing Him. Now, I may again, walk pastures and fields in open conversation.  I know that He will meet me here. This is where I first opened my heart and my mouth and walked and talked with my God. It was in His Creation, not a man made building, that my awestruck heart came to know true worship.

Maybe, it will be as it was then.  Maybe it will be in this place of security and familiarity I will be able to call out to my Creator, my Lord and Savior and end this silence between us.  Maybe, it will be in the midst of these woods that I will lift my voice in keening of my mourning and finally give my inner pain back to the One who holds our sorrows?

I know that My God and Creator can do nothing until I am willing to release this pain. It is not His lacking, but my unwillingness to let go.

In a strange way, I may be afraid that I will lose the final part of my husband that I carry inside of me. This pain is one of the few things that exists that is shared by our hearts. Yet, I know that my husband would never want me to keep company with him through sorrow. He loved me too much to have me stay this hurt.

As with geese who mate for life, I too must make a choice as whether to stay with my fallen mate or leave for the life-giving horizons.

Somehow, I realize that I have stood perfectly still while waiting for him to somehow join me again so that we may continue our flight together. Now, it is the changing of season and I must either stay by his lifeless body and eventually die, or I must join the others who are flying to a new destination…

I suspose I could do a little online research and become more knowledgeable of the habits of geese, but somehow, I don’t want to spoil this learning observation that I received from the Heart of Creation.

Maybe, it is a beginning of a sunrise out of this long sunset and night that I have been living. Maybe, it is a little wind beneath my wings.

It’s Gonna Be Worth It

The Video says it for me….I can’t add much to what the song says.

Everyday, as I, in fear and trembling, leave the sacturary of my home to face new people with serious illnesses, it is this song that comes to my mind.

When I am so tired that I don’t know if I am going to be able to force myself to get into that old car and drive an hour to my first stop, I have to recall that “It’s Gonna Be Worth It”.

When I look into the faces of children and into the faces of the aged, my heart breaks for them and the betrayal of their bodies that bind them into a shell of the life that they once knew, I hear the melody and words that says, ” I don’t understand Your ways, but I give you my song, give You all of my praise…”

I especially don’t understand the pressure cooker of events that seem to befall me as I deal with the greatest loss my heart, mind and soul has ever known. I just know that I must not fail to live. If I fail, then who would take my place to tell of this man who was taken too soon from those who loved him.

But, most of all, there is only one way that I know that I can survive this crushing pain that consumes me body, mind, and soul. It is through my faith that I look past the hurt of my heart and cry out to my Lord…

I especially identify with the lyrics that says that He is using my pain to pull me closer into His ways….and if I must walk the rest of this life alone, I want to see His face. I want to see the Mysteries that my husband now knows.

He would quote the verse that says, “I would see Jesus”.

That was his goal. He wrote in one of his prayers that He wanted NOTHING between him and his Lord…I saw with my own eyes the smile on his face when he left this earth. The only thought I had was that he must have just seen Jesus…

I would see Jesus and I shall give him my “song” and all of my praise…because He is pulling me closer and bearing my pain…

For today, that is all that I need. I no longer live in my tomorrows because my days are full of bringing a little hope to those who are hurting in ways that my heart can understand. It is my hope that I am a “light” into their world and that they are God’s light in mine…

So as my weary heart, soul and body cries out in pain, I play this song and remind myself that Heaven is a little sweeter because my husband is there, but more than that, Heaven is my Hope and seeing Jesus face is worth it all…

In that I have absolutely no doubt….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Thank You, Lord For Another Beautiful Morning”

I found this post this morning. It was dated in June and I don’t know why I failed to post it. I decided to post it now. It is a reflection of the man, the mature and completed man, that came out from all of the troubled youth and adult life that he led. It shows how the terminally ill come to value the next morning. He knew that he lived on borrowed time for the last 2 1/2 years…and he was so grateful for each day.

My husband is a morning person and I am not. He has always risen early for work, sometimes at 3 AM, so to take whatever load to its destination and to get back home in the early afternoon. He says that he feels his best when he first wakes up. How I envy that quality.

I am a “second shift” kind of person. I naturally wake around 8 AM, that is if I went to sleep before midnight. I like to take a hour or two to fully wake up and drink my several cups of coffee. I don’t like answering questions or making decisions until I feel that I am fully awake. By 10 AM, I am usually ready to start doing things around the house and get my day started. That is my natural biorhythm.

When I hear my husband up and about, I make myself get up and check on him. I want to know if he is up because he wants to be or if he is up because there is something that isn’t quite right. After I determine that he is OK, sometimes, I lay back down. It is then when I hear his morning “talk” with the Lord.

Usually, the first things he says out loud is, “Good Morning, Lord. Thank you for another beautiful morning. Thank you for letting me stay for another day. I am yours, you know and I am waiting to see Your Hand to save my life, but if it isn’t to be, it is OK….”

There is more, but I feel that I am eavesdropping on a very private conversation and I try not to listen. Sometimes, I go back to sleep or then the other times, I hear his prayer for his children, grandchildren, parents, and for me.

The tears roll down my face as I think back to the days when I didn’t have a husband who prayed for me. My first husband was at best an agnostic and at worst, an atheist. I had prayed many years for this man to come to know that there was a kind and loving God who knew his name.

When the day came that my first husband wanted to leave me after 17 years, I finally let him go. One of the main reasons was that I knew that he would never share my faith or my love for God.

Three years later, my present husband came into my life. As a son of a minister, there was no doubt as to his faith. He didn’t always practice what he had learned at his grandmother’s knee (she also was a minister and a female Evangelist). He had his rebelliousness, but there was no doubt that he knew that there was a God.

As I hear his prayer, I am so grateful for a husband who prays for me. Many times, we have dropped everything to hold each other and pray for the situation that we were in at the time. Many times we have laid in bed and talked about God and about His Word. We have laid in bed and sang the old old hymns blending our voices into one voice lifting the melody heavenward.

We sang together when we were teenagers. The tember of our voices complimented each other beautifully and it was the harmony that was felt between us that made our voices as one. That has been the nature of our relationship. Harmony.

This morning, I join him in his prayer of Thanksgiving for another day, another beautiful morning with the sounds of summer as our personal symphony. I am so grateful that he is still here with me. I know that whatever this day brings, it has been ordained by Heaven and in that knowledge, there is peace.

So, I echo, “Thank You, Father, for another beautiful Morning, for this day and for all that You have ordained in our life. Thank You for all that surrounds us and is for us. May we always be grateful for all that this day brings. For now and always, let us give thanks….”

In light of what I am about to write regarding his early teen years and his young adult life, I wanted there to be a comparison of the “finished product”, of the man that he became before he died. Like many who have many talents, his path in this life was a difficult one. But, in the end, he did find peace, joy and love…and so did I.

Finding this draft of a post again brought tears over the loss of a man who prayed for me daily. I miss sharing our faith and praying for each other. I have to believe that he still prays for me. Now, the prayers that he offers for me, his children, grandchildren and all those he loves are in heavenly places….and, yes, I am still grateful for his life and for our life together and I do give “Thanks” for having him for the years that I did.

Thou, Oh Lord, Are A Shield For Me

So far, things have been going in the same direction as was started on the day my husband died. It seems that it is not “when it rains, it pours” kind of thing. It feels like a 100 year flood type of scenario.

As I wrote in another post, my lawn tractor blew a head or something. I must buy a manual because my son, who was a helicopter mechanic in the Marines is at a loss as to what this engine is missing. He said that something wasn’t put back together correctly, so he needs a manual to try and find what was done when the old man that we bought the tractor from rebuilt the engine…no one knows and should we ask the old man, he may not remember…I don’t have a clue what the parts will cost after we find what is missing…it is a worry. In the mean time, the grass grows higher and higher…

This morning, I went to church. I didn’t feel like talking to many folks (most are family) so I purposefully went late and I was one of the first to leave when the dismissal was given.

When I got into my car, it refused to start. Now, I know that this car has had it self almost rebuilt one piece at a time. The last thing that was changed out was the starter. All it would do is click…that is the sound that a celinoid makes when it is refusing or unable to engage.

 Because it didn’t “zing”, I knew that the Bendix in the starter wasn’t the problem…it was acting like it was the celinoid wasn’t able to unengaged or  it was stuck on the flywheel. It didn’t matter.  It is the starter.

As I sat there turning the ignition key and listening to the useless clicks, I remembered how difficult it was for my husband to put this starter on in April. My husband was trying to prevent what was occuring at this very moment. The tears started  to well up and I told them to “dry it up” because people’s pity is more than I can bear right now.

So as in all things refurbished, something has decided not to perform. One of my many cousins walked over and asked what was wrong. I asked him which part of the car did he suggest that I kick first…he smiled and said, “pick one”. No help.

I knew that when the celinoid gets stuck, you can tap/hit it and sometimes that will make it unstick, so one of the congregationers went to his truck and got a balpine hammer. Both my cousin and this kind man were trying to find a way to get to the hammer on the starter, but that wasn’t easy due to the location of the starter in the engine compartment.  Getting a good swing and hit wasn’t going to be easy… 

Almost everyone that was in the parking lot had left except us. I was almost resigned that someone was going to have to take me home when I said, ” Hit it again, guys.” That time, the starter engaged the engine roared to life. I was so relieved. I made a mental note to myself. “Don’t leave home without a hammer and jumper cables.”

I don’t know how long this thing is going to act up, but I can’t stop driving this car. The other vehicle is a diesel Ford F-250 pickup truck. It has the wrong gears in it for fuel mileage and I can’t afford $4.73/gallon. That is the price for diesel fuel today. Earlier in the week, it was over $5.00/gallon….without income, these vehicles are going to leave me worse off than I am already…buying anything newer is out of the question. Cancer has destroyed any ability for me to have credit. Besides, I don’t need a payment of any sort at this moment.

As I was mulling all of this worry, stress and concern in my mind, a song came into my head. I didn’t recognize it at first, but the melody became so strong, I started to hum it…then I stopped and thought to myself, “What is that song????”.

When the I got to the chorus of the song, I began singing the words..It was a song from the Brooklynn Tabernacle Choir CD that my husband and I listened to a lot…the words are something like this….it is based on Psalms 3:3…

“Many are they increased who trouble me.  Many are they who rise up against me.

Many are saying of me, “There is not help for you in God”

But, Thou, oh Lord are a Shield for me, my glory and the Lifter of my head.

I cry unto the Lord with my voice and He heard me out of His Holy Hill.

I laid me down and slept; I awaked for the Lord sustained me…

 But, Thou, oh Lord, are a Shield for me, the glory and the Lifter of my head…..”

The melody of the song is thrilling and somehow, the words have infiltrated that emptiness that seemed to  attach itself to my every waking moments. I don’t have a clue as to how all of these troubles that are increased against me will be resolved.  I don’t know how I will overcome this terrible hole that is in my soul. The “wheres”  and the “whys” shall remain unanswered. But, at this moment, I know that I am being sustained by my Heavenly Father who hears my heart’s cry.

There is a stirring inside of my being that tells me not to worry about the loss of security that my husband’s passing  placed in my heart. I only need to remember that it is ” The Lord God Almighty that is my Shield, my Glory, and the Lifter of my head…

The part that has invaded my soul is that God is my Shield, The Lifter of my head so that I will not be ashamed or pitied. He has taken my husband’s stead and has become my Protector.

Since the Soc Security money was taken from me, I fear the cost of everything….I don’t know how  all of these “troubles” with the mower, the car or with anything else that decides to become an unwanted surprise will resolve,  but, at this moment, I am realizing the protection that far outreaches that of any husband.

God knew He would be receiving my husband so He has made His Provision for me. My God has become my Protector/Shield. I must learn to relax a little and trust that My God will be there to provide what I need when I need it.

 To relinquish control to God is not an easy thing for someone like me. I truly like being the “Project Manager” and controlling production/time tables, but right now, I am totally out of my comfort zone which translates to being “out of control”.

I have a choice. I either trust in my faith and allow the same faith that got my husband from this world into the next to do what is best for me, or I can stress over everything and begin to unwind as a jeweler watches the spring unwind in an old pocket watch.

I choose the first option. I know the Hand of God when I see it and it has moved on my behalf in the past. I must remember the mighty things that He has already done and I must do all that I know to do. Bu,t when the troubles increase and they are more than I can manage, I must let my God be my Shield/Protector, my Glory and the Lifter of my head.

Compounded Pain III

Because of the Memorial Service, my anger and my problems over the final arrangements faded. It helped to forget the upset when I saw the people who came to my husband’s Memorial Service. It was so good to see people that my husband loved. As I wrote in “Overwhelmed”, my husband received his last wishes and I feel a completion that surprises me a little. Maybe it is knowing that I kept my promise to him.

 I am still receiving cards and condolences from his family, my family and from those who we know in our small town. Little did I know, when Monday arrived, the other compounding pain was going to shoot through me like a knife.

As I mentioned in my past posts, my husband and I lived on his disability benefit for the past 2 1/2 years and the benefit came into our account on a set date.

After the service on Thursday, it was on Saturday, that I realized I had bills due and owing. I called the bank automated phone line and I learned that our account had received the disability payment. The main thing to remember is that the payments are paid a month in arrears, so July payment is for the month of June.

Since the time that my husband was accepted in August of 2005, his benefits didn’t begin until the last week of February of 2006. The time from August to February seemed endless. Until my husband was  disabled, I thought that everyone was paid on the first of the month like my parents, but between 2004 and 2006, payments were allotted according to the week of your birth date. My husband’s birthday fell at the end of the month, January’s payment didn’t arrive until the last week of February….

Once things started, we adjusted to the late benefit, that is until his second ex wife petitioned to have child support withheld out of his disability benefit. She was aware of his diagnosis and the child was 19 years old with her own children. At that time, we had no one and no court to appeal, so this allotment continued until February of this year. By having this allotment taken, the payment changed from the fourth week of the month to the 3rd of the month, however, the benefit payment date did not revert back to the origninal schedule.

As I said, I checked our account and the deposit was in the account. I thought that I was ready to pay for utilities and those things that are due. As I began writing the checks,  I felt a little hesitation, a feeling that something may not be right and I decided to take a  “Wait and see ” perspective before spending any money.

It is a good thing that I waited because at 7:38 AM on Monday, Social Security retracted the payment. Thank Goodness, there was enough money in the account that the retraction didn’t place the account into a negative balance. I learned later that, if I would have used any of that money, Social Security would have demanded it back with approximately 20% interest. I thought only “Loan Sharks” were allowed to charge that kind of interest????

Finding that the money was gone was traumatic. What little peace of mind I had when I started out this week completely evaporated after learning of the retraction….in fact, I was quite frightened.

As my daughter in law searched the Internet, she found a site that may help me recover the payment. I must deal with Social Security anyway because I have to apply for the death benefit …as if $255.00 is going to cover much. So, I am hoping that this last pain can be reversed. All I really want is no more surprises like I had with the funeral home and with Social Security. But, I am sure there are more to come.

With these kinds of moments, I find myself more scared than pained. When I realize that what I am feeling is fear, I have to slow down my breathing and tell myself, “God will make a way when there is no other way.” I have to stop and appreciate that I really am OK and there is nothing any harder out there than what I have already lived through. 

Fear is a tricky kind of thing.  If I let it,  fear can cause me to run ahead into a future that may not ever materialize. It is the ”What if???” Syndrome and I cannot allow myself to go there. I just can not.

I remind myself  to take each minute, moment, hour and day one step at a time and not run ahead of the reality no matter how much I want to run away from this pain.

It is just one more thing in which life doesn’t feel fair,  but then life isn’t fair especially  when it leaves you alone in your mid 50’s.

There are moments that I just don’t have the emotional energy to slug my way through all of this, but the reality is that I must “buck up” and get on with this fight. My main problem is that I always could fight for someone else easier than i could fight for myself. \

 But, those days are finished. I must be my own advocate.

The next day, after the shock wore off, I figured that this may be a customary practice for Social Security to  retract the benefit payment. I suspect that once Social Security is notified of the passing of a disabled person, the benefit is automatically retracted. I suppose that the government counts on the people just letting things be.

It takes a lot to try and  recover the money. Forms, time on the phone, pressing for more information; all of those kinds of things that take a toll when you are feeling like you misplaced the other half of yourself. Emotionally, people cannot face the hassle.

There may also be an appeal process that I may have to go through because, the payment is for the month of June and my husband did survive that month. Expenses for June continued on and the payment rightfully is due him and due to me.

So far, this part of the journey seems more compounded and complicated than I expected.

I really don’t know what I expected other than this huge amount of grief that I feel. I knew that I would feel lost and afraid, but I didn’t expect to have all of these events mount on top of me when it has only been 10 days since he left.

My head tells me that all of this will lessen. I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I know that I must survive and live a life that is still mine. I just haven’t discovered how to get all of this from my head and down into the innermost recesses of my heart, therefore, the tears…all of this would trouble my husband so much.  He just wanted to take care of me and all I wanted in life was to take care of him…I miss him so..and this compounded pain doesn’t help anything right now….

” If I Don’t See You Again, It Has Been An Honor “

I have just come inside after trying to mow our acre lawn. I seem to have lost a part of the exhaust on the old Bolens mower and it seems to have overheated and blown a head gasket. At least, that is my best guess as it blows white smoke from under the hood…

I stopped mowing when it started to belch out the smoke and when I raised the hood, oil was thrown all over the exhaust. When I opened the breather, it was full of oil…most likely, head gasket…it is going to be a long summer.

I started the LawnBoy push mower to try and finish up, but I finally gave up. I am really tired after today’s events and my allergies are having a fit. What a disappointment.

I was looking forward to mowing until sunset…around 9:30 PM. I do a lot of thinking while I ride the old lawn tractor. I needed to do some thinking this evening. I needed to ponder on what our family doctor said to my husband today.

Usually, on Wednesday, after his usual patients, our family doctor has us come in to do a little talking and then he takes my husband through some peaceful imagining and sometimes, he lays his hands on my husband abdomen.

Early on, we learned of our physician’s commitment to holistic healing and we have enjoyed this 45 to hour time that is used to block out the events of the week and look ahead to whatever comes into our lives. Today when our doctor saw him, the first question that he asked my husband was how much he weighed.

My husband told him and then he looked on the chart and saw that he had lost over 20 pounds since he last weighed in at the office. That was about 2 weeks ago. That is a lot of loss in a short time. It seems to be advancing and the loss of weight tells most of us that the cancer is winning the battle.

My husband enjoyed today’s session immensely and he got up off of the table to feeling like a new person. His energy level was increased, he felt a sense of well being and he was renewed. His fatigue seemed to be gone. That was amazing.

Our doctor informed us that he would be gone for two weeks and then he said, ” I expect you to be here when I return, but, if I don’t see you again, it has been an honor” and he put out his hand to shake my husband’s…

I wasn’t surprised by this statement. I think that my husband will be here when our doctor returns, but I also see why our doctor wanted to say this to him. There is no guarantee that he will be here. The time is getting closer for my husband’s journey on Cancer Road to end.

My husband complains that he is so tired and he is short of breath when he moves around too much. He doesn’t have the will to push himself to do things as he has always done in the past. This kind of fatigue is beyond just being tired. It is an absence of life force, it is an emptying and a lack of replenishment of life…

My husband has said a few things that lets me know that he is aware that he cannot continue on much longer. He sees his face in the mirror and he doesn’t recognize the man that is standing there. His eyes look so big and open now. He sees that his muscle mass is dwindling.

It doesn’t make it easier to see this and make these kinds of realizations. He wants to live and he wants to be a part of his children and grand children’s lives. He knows that all, but my oldest grandson, are too young to remember him when they grow up. He wants them to remember him, not from photos or from stories; he wants them to have their own memories. But, most likely, they will not.

Our time with our family doctor has been such a blessing. This young doctor has a wonderful heart and he does practice the healing arts and not just the science. He truly cares for my husband. That bond has grown over the months and it was clear that saying this to my husband struck a deep cord within his heart.

There are no words to express our gratitude towards this remarkable young man. He has been a great part of this journey and he has played one of the most important roles in my husband’s survival…I truly hope God blesses him as he has blessed us…

As for the next few days, I will have to push mow this monstrous lawn. Summer is just beginning and that is a lot of pushing and shoving….maybe, I will plant wildflowers and place signs along the road for people to not mow, native wildflowers growing…

Cheating…

It is dawn (around 5 AM) and we are up…normally, I fail to see many sunrises. I am a sunset person as most of you know…but we are awake and it isn’t by choice.

I have just spent the last few hours trying to clear my husband’s PEG tube. It is the tube that was surgically placed in the stomach so that he would not have to have the NG tube down his nose all of the time. And, right now, I am scared and mad as hell.

It seems that my husband added dehydrated onions to his clear diet last evening. That means that these bits of onions swell up and return to a solid piece when they are in liquid….and at 4:30 AM, he woke me up to tell me that the PEG tube isn’t draining and he feels a lot of pressure.

I didn’t know that he “doctored” his soup. I think that he did it when he knew that I wasn’t around. I know that he wants food and he feels so deprived because he can’t eat anything solid. Clear liquids leave a lot to be desired if you have been someone who loved to eat. I can understand that in my head, but cheating like this can be disastrous and I am angry.

I irrigated the tubing and it was definitely plugged with something. When I saw the onion bits return through the tube, my husband confessed his crime. That only made me angrier. I told him that if this thing plugs, there will be a pain that makes all of the other pains look like a walk in the park. I know that frightened him, but I also know that what I said is true…and I know all that was done to get this tube in place and it is all undone over an ONION….

I feel so guilty when I get upset with him. I feel so bad because I know that he feels that this cancer is robbing him of everything that he loves. But, I am still his wife and his nurse and I am afraid for him and the pain that he has caused himself over the sake of “flavor”.

In some ways, ignorance is bliss, but this time, ignorance has the potential to harm him so. It isn’t because he didn’t know in his head that eating things would cause problems. He was instructed. I have instructed him and told him what would happen. It just isn’t real to him until now. Now, may be too late to save the PEG tube.

If this tube fails, he will have to have his NG tube down his nose and I don’t know if they can remove it again. The other risk is that the tumors have grown and closed off the way to the surface of the abdomen and in that case, there is no other options….but if it is an onion problem, then he will have to bear the guilt of hurting himself and me…

I can see him outside walking in the morning mist. I know that my words have hurt him and they also scare him…I know that he is praying and asking God’s forgiveness. I also know that he is trying to walk around to stimulate movement in the digestive track.

Cheating seems so minor at the time. It was too great of a temptation to pass up. But, as in all things, cheating costs a greater price than what is discerned at the time. Ask Eve.

I know that I am thinking of myself, too. I know that if this tube fails, that his care escalates to a higher level. It isn’t that I can’t care for him at that level, it is just more time and more work for me. It is a selfish point of view, but it goes to my desire to keep things at a minimum as along as possible.

We would be at this point at a later date. The tumors can grow and block the tube’s way to the surface of the abdomen and we would have to go to the NG tube to decompress the bowel, but we didn’t have to go there just yet. We could have more time that is unencumbered by all of the tubes and equipment. We could keep things as normal as possible for a little longer.

Now, his grandson, who is coming here for Father’s day will be afraid of him. That tears at his heart.

I don’t know what to do. I have done all that the hospice nurse would do for him…I irrigated the tube with Coke so that the carbonation and the acid would dissolve as much as possible. I hope that he doesn’t become nauseated. That is a sure sign that the PEG tube is closed and will not function….

Time will tell. I can’t go back to sleep now. I will have to keep watch and make sure that I can get to the doctor quickly. I am praying that he will not have to pay the price for cheating. I am praying that God will forgive my anger and my selfishness. But most of all, I am praying that the tube will become unplugged and this worry and frustration will lift off of me and my husband…

 

And So, It Begins

My husband knew that the medications that he would receive could be mind altering so as to make it impossible for him to tell them just how much he loves them, so, the last few hours before we left for the hospital were spent calling those that he loves and telling them just how deeply he feels.

Finally, he reached the point to where the pain was too unbearable and he knew that we were waiting for something that was not likely to happen. Each hour, each minute that passed without decompression of his bowel, could make this a permanent, life threatening state. He just hated going. He already knew the process and procedures that he would suffer. He finally relented to the reality that there was nothing more that I could do to help him here at home.

His last few minutes were spent holding out little dog. The bond between this small animal and him is so very strong. The dog has always senses his pain and his mood. Always faithful, the little dog offers his head as a comfort as my husband sat stroking this  little bundle of love and devotion. Both were hoping that the separation would not be permanent and that the separation would pass quickly so as to bring back his master’s return.  At around 4:30 PM, we left for the ER. 

It was fortunate that the doctor on duty was one that had seen my husband in the ER before. The ER doctor possessed the kindness that my husband needed and he decided to not put my husband through the routine tests. Time wasn’t wasted in writing the admission orders and finally, my husband received the kind of pain medication that could reach his level of pain.

By the time my husband was settled, hours had passed and it was sunset. I needed to return home and let our little dog outside one last time before I left him alone for the night. As I drove back to the house, I noticed that it was like a scene out of a movie.

The sunset this evening was of a pastel palette. Shades of a blushing rose served as a backdrop to the darkening silhouette of the trees with their delicate leaves in multi shades of green.  As I pointed the car toward the west, the radio was wafting the melodies of ” I Will Always Love You”. How appropriate.

It was like one of the last scenes in a movie where the love between two people becomes so real that it is almost palatable. The moment is a foreshadowing of the things to come. The future is being fortold where one person is leaving for a place where the other cannot follow. Such a terribly bittersweet moment in the movie until it is realized that it isn’t “Hollywood” but my life.

But, the scene is not the finale. It is just a repeat of the same scene experienced before and each time, he rallied and we continued on with living. What makes this time so different? The tumors are larger and they have stolen the remaining space that belong to his internal organs. How much longer can they continue to function is such cramped conditions? The truth is, not long…maybe days, a few weeks, not long.

All last night, my husband struggled with constant motion. He was working. His hands were opening something or he was telling me to look at this truck as it went down the highway. One time, he forcibly threw back the covers in disgust and began to undo all of the tubes that were attached to him. He said that he was “…was over all of this monkey business…”

All night, I held his hands to prevent them from undoing the things that were helping him. The pain medication had taken him to a land that was “over the rainbow” and he didn’t know that I was there with him. I could see his frustration with this medically induced fog.

In small intervals, he would see through his true eyes and he would apologize. Just as quickly, he would return to his “work” and pick at the air…always working, always busy, always trying to fix something…

At one point, I stepped outside of the room and asked the nurse what was being administered to him for pain. She stated that another medicine was given to potentate the baseline pain medication. I suggested that it was a little too much and she agreed. She was going to inform the doctor and she acknowledged that it was good that I was there to “help”. So, most of the night, I helped him “pick cotton”, find the change that he knew was in his pants pocket and tighten down the last bolt on the motorcycle. We “worked” all night in this twilight like we had worked together all of our lives.

In the morning light, he improved  By no means, was he out of danger from the effects of the medicines or from the bowel obstruction. But, greatfully, improvement came with the dawn.

Knowing that the improvements may not alter the outcome, I am still grateful. I will take the smallest of improvements. I will take any hope, no matter how small. I know that this is closer to the final sunset than not, so any positive accomplishments are appreciated with hope for a few more days.

Earlier, as he and I prayed in the ER, we both agreed that his life is in God’s Hand’s now. It is His Will to be done. We have asked repeatedly and we have both come to the understanding that we serve God, He is Our Sovereign and He doesn’t serve us.  We found a renewed peace come to us as we prayed. So, it begins, the final leg to this journey. How long does my husband have left remaining on this earth? Only God knows. We will take every precious moment and find the good in it.

The time will come when I will tell the doctor that it is time for him to come home. He will not take his final steps into the sunset from this hospital room that has unfamiliar surroundings. He will be with me surrounded by all that he loves and who love him. It will be in our home when I unclench my hands that has held on to him with an iron grasp and say,

 ”If You Must Go, Then Go In Peace.

Go in His Strength, Where ere it leads.

Know that you take the Bread that Has Been Broken

Walk Unafraid, Humble and Free

Know that you are not alone

Know that you are not alone,

Had it not been for Sacrifice

Nothing could quench the thrist for light

Never forsake the One that’s been given

Keep His Dear Cross ever in sight.

God Be with You may He Sheds His Grace

On Your darkest hours and your best of days

Nothing below or above

Can come between you and His Love

Remember you go in the Shadow of the Cross.”

Go in the Shadow of the Cross

First Call