Jumbled

Grief is strange. You can't pre-empt grieving or "do" grieving until the appointed time. No matter how many times you've encountered it, or done it, it is new and fresh each time. Even when I knew my mother's death was eminent, and had already been grieving on so many levels, there is now another kind of grieving happening, and with it, an infusion of other emotions I hadn't expected.

A long-time friend of my mother's who lives in New Zealand sent an email to me yesterday, sharing some real words of encouragement and wisdom for us "kids"--my brother, sisters and me. N's husband had died from cancer several years ago so she is familiar with this path. Her own doctor shared this wisdom with her, and she wanted to pass it on to us.

"Don't feel guilty if you don't grieve a lot now that [your mom] has died. You have been grieving for a long time and you have seen [her] suffer so much that you might almost feel lifted on high for a while as the caring, stress, giving, and all the concentration has been on [her] and the relief has come because she is out of her pain and deterioration." She went on to say, "It doesn't mean you won't miss her terribly but you will realize how much of her pain you have been carrying."

She really gets it. This is exactly the confusing mixture of emotions I'm feeling these days; relief, sadness, joy, heart ache... No wonder there are mornings like these that are sleepless, or moments of driving in the car when I can't remember where I'm headed.

I'm a jumbled mess...and will be for quite sometime.

Home at Last

Mom stepped into Heaven around 7:20 this morning. I had the privilege of being with her.

We are experiencing such a mixed bag of emotions, but so thankful that her battle with cancer is over. She was brave all the way to the end.

We will be having a memorial service for her on Thursday, March 20, 1:00 at her home church, Hinson Memorial Baptist in Portland.

Thank you for your continued prayers and love. We feel them!

Hard Pressed

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our
hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all‑surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. ~ 2 Cor. 4:6-11

The passage above came to mind a couple of days ago as I was laying in bed, praying, bewildered, tired...spent...after spending the night/day with Mom. Truth be told, being the Bible scholar that I'm NOT, I didn't recall the whole passage, but the whole 'pressed and not crushed', and 'perplexed but not in despair' kept playing over and over in my mind. She's still with us, seemingly hanging on by a thread, sleeping all the time, barely eating, unable to drink water from a straw so we moisten her mouth and lips with a small sponge-on-a-stick apparatus.

I got out of bed and looked up the passage, not remembering the verses that surrounded these few phrases I was remembering. I was more than surprised when I read the passage and my eyes were opened to see the fuller picture of what God is doing at this point in time.

Ask anyone who has walked on this path with a dying parent, spouse, child or loved one, and they'll tell you that it becomes the hub about which the rest of life turns. One's vision can get very laser focused. Schedules are changed, plans aren't made, or if they are, always with the disclaimer of 'if something should suddenly change...". The 'big picture' is easily lost. One may even find themselves wondering what others do all day long? What did I do with my days and hours before I did this? What I was recently reminded of was that, rather than being one event in all of life--albeit significant and huge--death is just a piece of what God is doing, what He is allowing to be a part of that person's faith story; or more accurately, what He is allowing to be a part of my faith story.

There have been many days that my siblings and I, especially more recently, have been feeling depleted on every level--emotionally, physically, mentally and spiritually. (I made mention to a friend this last week that I'm feeling a bit frayed around the edges, and hanging on by my fingertips.) I/We find ourselves wondering how much longer we will be doing this--how much longer can we do this?--, as we check off another week. Obviously, we're thankful for the extra week we didn't anticipate having with Mom, but on the other hand, seeing another week of her deteriorating body, and weakness finds us asking the Lord more fervently to take her home quickly--soon--NOW. Having her here is almost more grievous than having her absent.

So, back to the passage. As I read it, the words resonated. Yes, I/we have been pressed on every side, but you know what? We're still living and breathing. We're not crushed and we're not totally decimated. I have been so perplexed recently (I still need to share about our move, a new house, etc.), and so uncertain as to what the Lord is doing, wondering about His timing, and so on--but mostly because I can't wrap my head around it all. But again, I don't feel in despair. I'm not in despair. There is a supernatural calm that is present. Certainly nothing I could manufacture on my own. I'm not really feeling "persecuted" or "struck down", but I'm sure there are those that would feel some of the events of the past month qualify, or at the very least, having a parent die in this manner is the equivalent. I would have to testify to the fact that I have never felt abandoned by God in the midst of all of this, nor am I destroyed. And this won't destroy me. Once again, if anything, there is an overwhelming awareness of His presence in every step, every inch of this journey. If anything, the Lord feels closer than ever, an almost tangible, feel-His-breath-on-your-face kind of way.

That's when it struck me--I'm getting it God! This is how you are allowing your light to shine out of the darkness. Even in this valley of the shadow of death, His light is shining brightly and He is allowing me to be a part of the bigger picture, even with my little "jars of clay" body that feels so whimpy and tired, by making it obvious that "this all surpassing power is from God" and not from me/us.

I also have realized that I have had more opportunities to share about the peace and hope of Christ with many strangers lately, because of my mother's journey. As the Power of Attorney for my mom, I have been calling insurance companies, DMV, the doctor's office, even the Oregonian and the local Public Storage place. Everytime I inform them that Mom is dying, I'm the POA and we need to close the account, add my name on her account, or stop payment, the response is pretty much the same. The person on the other end is extremely sympathetic, "so sorry", "This must be so hard", etc. Often, the person gives a glimpse into their own fears about death and/or what their philosophy or belief system is. Seriously, with each one, I have been able to share about the peace and hope in Christ that, not only Mom has and is experiencing, but what we as her children are experiencing. Each time I am able to confidently say that it is only because of the hope we have in Jesus that we could even have the strength, perserverance or presence to go through this. He is the one who has made it possible. And even then, while it is sad that Mom is dying, and we will continue to grieve and miss her, we have hope and can be filled with joy. Responses have been mixed, some who further engage in conversation, others who have no idea what I'm talking about, and still others who quietly ponder and truly seem moved.

I know I've rambled, and I don't know that I've adequately conveyed what this passage meant to me. The affirming, reassuring reminder that God doesn't waste anything. That it is our privilege to experience real life in Him in the presence of death. That events--even painful, hard, fatiguing events--are not wasted, but all part of the picture he's painting and using; this is something that He is using to glorify Himself, and we receive the blessing because we get to experience his life-giving power up close and personal.

A Sweet Day

I got home a short while ago from my 26 hour stay with Mom. It was a sweet time.

We know that many have been praying for peace over Mom and strength for each of us and I just had to share how your prayers were being answered. Mom suddenly turned a corner yesterday morning and as of last night was back to the sweet gal she's been all along in this process. Her angst about "going home" was gone, her argumentative attitude was absent, and that strange look in eyes had vanished. And the best part?? She knew who I was!! She smiled big when I asked her if she knew me. She looked at me and put her frail hand gently on my hand and said, "You're my Cheryl". Oh, I can't tell you how that felt!

She has been in bed, straight for the last 24 hours, unable to get out of bed, not wanting to eat, and barely able to be roused from her deep sleep. When she does wake, it is for the briefest of moments. Her voice is very faint and she doesn't waste any words. However, I would have to say, she was still cracking jokes even today the few times she was awake. With all these indicators, it seems we really are near the end now.

Dear Stacey, our hospice nurse, of course can't predict what will happen, but she said she probably will not answer us one of these days soon and then she'll just slip away. I think we're all ready now...I think that is why the Lord gave us this last week...so we would know we were ready. I know whenever He takes her home, it will be just exactly on-time.

I just had to share the joy gift the Lord gave to us....bringing Mom back around to a place of peace and rest, and to us knowing that Mom recognized each of us and we were able to say our "I Love You-s".

Unexpected Changes

Gosh. I really wasn't prepared for this. I had thought we had escaped it; even thankful that she didn't have Alzheimer's. At least with the confusion brought on by unfiltered toxins traveling from her liver to her brain, Mom still always knew who I was...always knew we were her children. Until yesterday.

We thought Mom would be slipping into a coma any day--this is what we were preparing for emotionally-- as this was how she was behaving--what all the "signs" were saying. But suddenly Monday night, she woke up from a nap in a state of confusion and agitation. She didn't know where she was, why she was there, or what was going on in general. Early Tuesday morning, she became insistent that she was "going home" and even tried to get herself out of bed and out the door! It was first thought that perhaps she was saying she's ready to go to home to Heaven? But no--nothing quite so "tidy" and spiritual as that--but rather, she was insistent that she didn't belong at the apartment she was staying in and literally had another home somewhere else where her children and parents were waiting.

It is becoming more clear that she has nestled down, in her mind, somewhere in the past where all of her children are toddlers or just slightly older. She vividly recalls details about pictures hanging on the walls (although none of the them sound familiar to me) and tells stories of trips or conversations she just had "yesterday". In her mind's eye her children are very little, so as she looked in my middle-aged face and I told her I was her daughter Cheryl, I could see she didn't believe me--or recognize me.

When I stayed overnight with her last night, she treated me cordially and said I did "good work", all the while I knew she thought I was some unskilled nurse's aide. She gave me a shocked look when I asked her if I could give her a kiss on her cheek and a hug. She said, "okay, if you really want to", but looked a little confused and wondering why I would greet her this way. After I kissed her cheek, she said, "I'm most appreciative of your greetings." Huh?

This is pretty yucky territory to be in. What was already exhausting, has now pushed us all further than we thought we were able to go. We are giving her some medication that should help lessen the affects of her agitation and calm her some, but mostly, we're learning as we go, talking to Stacey our hospice nurse, comparing notes between siblings, figuring out what works best. I found that role playing to a certain degree helped mom remain relaxed and reassured. At 4 AM this morning when she wanted to "go home" and attempted to throw her legs over the side of the bed, I reminded her that everyone was still asleep, and would be at home as well, and that it was best not to disturb them. 'We could wait until morning and then think about that.' (Of course, I was hoping she would forget about the whole idea by this morning!) That seemed to hold her until day light.

Guess that's all. I'm tired. Hoping to sleep some at home tonight and get refreshed for another all night-er Thursday and full day Friday at Mom's. We're praying that the Lord will choose to bring Mom home soon. Please pray with us that she will have peace and rest soon.

Update

Once again finding time to write a new post is difficult. So, instead, I've copied the most recent posting from the blog we've established for my mother's friends and family. We have found this site to be an effective way of keeping everyone updated and informed, as well as providing a way for them to share with one another or send greetings to Mom, or as is the case recently, encouraging notes to us as well via the guestbook.

This was the latest post from the Barbara Kay site. My sister, Janis, wrote the first section, and I wrote the second.

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Janis shares this from the week:

This week there have been changes with Mom. She has been more pensive and withdrawn. She has seemed weaker with each day. There have been a few intermittent episodes of a new abdominal pain that have been relieved with relatively small doses of morphine. Still, we have continued the same routines: she's read her paper; had her coffee with breakfast; enjoyed each of the 3 meals of the day, often craving special dishes. She's followed her TV programs. However, Tuesday evening Cheryl noted how little she spoke and how much she dozed. Wednesday she did the same. She spent much of the day with her eyes closed, even when she was not asleep. She once commented with some emotion that she finally was realizing just how helpless she was becoming, but assured me again she was not afraid to die. We had a poignant conversation that day.

She was in a relaxed state when someone special from Adventist Hospice visited us. Our caring hospice nurse remembered how Barbara had mentioned the beauty and peace she felt when Al had played the piano for her in the past. She asked for a thanatologist (one who studies the process of dying) who plays the harp to visit Mom. When she arrived, I roused Mom, and she smiled and welcomed this lovely woman. The woman stated this was not meant to be a concert or presentation, and that if we fell asleep, she would consider it a compliment! The science of what she did involved timing Mom's breathing pattern. She watched Mom as she rested the entire time she played. I cannot adequately relate the beauty that came from the tones on the harp. The clarity, the rhythms, the gentleness, and the harmonies lulled me into closing my eyes. I envisioned myself on the beach with Jesus, as He welcomed me, reassured me, let His love flow to me. I have never heard anything so beautiful and soothing on this earth. We were truly blessed and ministered to as she played for about 45 minutes, humming quietly on one song, and softly singing "Amazing Grace" and a song about "My Healer." My closed eyes had silent, peaceful tears streaming from them by the end, and Mom seemed to have fallen asleep, but intermittently at the end of a song, without opening her eyes or moving, she smiled and said, "that's so pretty!" The woman told us what an honor it had been to be with us; I insist the honor was all ours.

Thursday Mom kept sleeping in late. I had administered some morphine before bed and wondered if that caused her to sleep more. However, she did not rise until 1 p.m. and then, she only stayed awake one hour. She didn't go through her usual routine; her newspaper remained unread, and she didn't drink much of her coffee. We didn't turn on the TV. She slept a couple more hours and then just ate a snack and wanted to go to bed...without dinner. She's always been hungry for dinner, but that was not on her mind. She was in bed for the night only about 4 hours after she had gotten up for the day. We knew then that things were changing.

Cheryl shares this:

I had arrived for the Thursday night to all-day Friday shift. Mom woke up a couple of times during the night, but each time went right back to bed. She tried to eat a little breakfast in bed early Friday morning, but grew tired and only managed to eat about 5 small spoonfuls of cereal I had been feeding her. She promptly went back to sleep. The hospice nurse, Stacey, called that morning to say she would be late in getting to the apartment, but wondered how Mom was doing. I told her about all the changes we had seen in the last 2 days and Stacey concurred that we are in the next phase, adding further that she felt Mom would "transition fast."

When Stacey arrived Friday afternoon Mom was sleeping and barely roused when her vital signs were being checked, or when Stacey demonstrated how to use the mouth swabs to keep Mom's mouth moist. She knew the nurse was there but didn't engage much.

After spending about 1-1/2 hours at the apartment, giving counsel and help, Stacey said she felt Mom was in the process of "actively dying" and stated that Mom would most likely slip into a coma soon. She let us know what to look for, how to keep Mom comfortable, what the process may look like, and so forth. She added that it wouldn't surprise her if these were Mom's final few days, although one never knows for sure, but said she "had a feeling" that Mom would go fast because she seems so "ready" and peaceful. This dear nurse, who has become an assuring friend, commented that it is a privilege to be caring for Mom, and that often she leaves her visit with a smile on her face because she feels so encouraged and up-lifted from being there. She has truly enjoyed being with Mom and us, and we have been so blessed to have Stacey by our side.

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Addendum:

So far this week, Mom is still somewhat alert and even eating and drinking a little. My sisters were with her yesterday and noted that she is "different" and still detached. When she is talking, she is very confused and not making any sense. I will be going and staying overnight tonight again, and then again for the Thursday/Friday shift.

Oh, yeah, did I mention we're moving again? It's a good thing--really--and truly a blessing to our family from the Lord! The timing of everything has me stretched to the utmost limit...but I haven't gone over the edge--yet! Phase one begins next week....Stay tuned for the full scoop!