So, trying to rest. Answer some calls. Send some emails. I’ve really been blessed by my devotionals this last week. 2Cor. 1 3-11 says that God allows to suffer so that we can enter into empathy and understanding of someone’s else’s pain and suffering. He’s also reminded me about tending to my heart and spirit-which requires time with Him. Like when we go away from our house for awhile and come back with dust and cobwebs. I need to be sure that my heart is not a breeding ground for wrong thinking, wrong attitudes, wrong behavior. And lastly, cause I could go on for awhile, leaving a legacy. Deut 6:4-9 says to teach God diligently to your children-whe you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, whatever the time. I am so thankful that my kids are Christ followers. Really not because of my example, but because God is so faithful and I had prayed for them before they were born. Now it is up to us to teach the grandchildren the same things and most of all to pray for them.

So many people ask me to pray for them or their circumstances or I volunteer to. I wonder if they really believe that I do? Again, God is so faithful in HIS memory none are forgotten, so I am always reminded of who I should be speaking with Him about!

Tomorrow I start driving again. I also start this year’s Bible Study Fellowship program in the morning. We are studying the gospel of John this year. Tomorrow night I go back to co-leading our GriefShare Group. We have grown to 20 now. Death is always claiming new people and we have to be there for comfort.

It seems that I had a teeny tiny hole in my skull. Through that hole had come a nerve and an artery along with spinal fluid. The more fluid came out, the worse the headache–that how I found it, it hurt, but thank God I kept investigating and seeing doctors or I would have eventually been in real trouble. As it is, I have a small little incision, lost a little patch of hair and my life will go on–again, stranger than fiction.

My sophomore years was spent in Texas. Our high school had over 3000 kids! It was also supposed to be one of the top schools in the country then and one of the hardest-for me in math anyway!

By this time in my life I knew I wanted to study nursing as a career. ( a little too much Cherry Ames influence) so I had to take math and science courses, but Dad, the physicist, wanted me to take physics and trigonometry as well! Oh, we butted heads over my schedule. Our school was set up so that each day of the week, you had a test in a diferent subject-like english on Mondays, science on Tuesdays, history on Wednesdays, and so forth. This prevented supposedly getting hit with major quizes all in one day, but there certainly wasn’t a rule about pop quizes! I did well in all my courses except for geometry. I just couldn’t get it. I got a D my first 6 wks-the first in my life, so my Dad tried to help me. That was a disaster. I got an F my second 6 wks, also a first. Finally I got a tutor. If I didn’t get at least a C on the 6 wks grade and a C on the final, I would have to repeat it all. It didn’t help that I had a teacher who never explained or taught anything-just assigned homework and gave tests. But a miracle did occur and I got those C’s. Somehow, I got through algebra-but I know I couldn’t do a problem to save my life these days!! Still, I did learn good study habits and seemed to be reasonably intelligent enough to get great grades in all my other courses.

Being a sophomore can be fun, challenging, scary, thought provoking, etc. For the first time, I was more in control of me and what I wanted-at least I thought so! But looking back, remembering the tears with boyfriend break ups, fights with my Dad over my dancing or my belly button showing, I realize now that most of those years-it’s about me, me, me-not so much other people or their needs.

I wasn’t allowed to go steady. Most kids didn’t at my school or church anyway. I loved going out-but eventually every girl wonders-it is me, the person that a boy is out with or what she looks like, dances like, kisses like? I dated some great guys in Houston. Had some great male friends. Who knows what my life might have like if we had stayed there? Not that I would trade my life with my precious Dennis!

My dad got a new job in Atlanta, Ga. He was starting there July 1, 1968, but they hadn’t sold the house, so my dad, brother and I left for Georgia with a travel trailor. I was to cook and clean for them. I guess Tim was also to be company for me during the day. It wasn’t long before Dad found us a house to rent for the summer, so I played the housekeeper/cook role and loved it! I enjoyed finding new recipes to cook, taking care of the house, the laundry-weird!

We found a church Dad was comfortable with pretty quickly. I got involved right away with all the teen stuff. To my amazement, everyone went to different high schools. It wasn’t neighborhood church/ neighborhood school in Atlanta.

My mom came up just before school started with the rest of the family. She took my sister and me shopping-a yearly event-for new clothes. Now my mom was an interior designer and up on all the latest things. She always dressed us to the hilt. So on the first of school-my new school, where I was now a junior and my sister a freshman-we showed up in mini skirts and penny loafers with button down shirts, whereas the rest of the girls had on boxpleated knee length skirts with bobby socks and saddleoxfords. That didn’t go over so well!

I wanted to fit in, but be me and different at the same time. I didn’t realize how much more important girlfriends are than boyfriends-took me a whole year to learn that lesson! Needless to say, it was one of the most painful years of my life. It’s one of the reasons that I won’t transfer a candidate in my practice who has teenage children. My husband and I made that same promise to our girls-that we wouldn’t move-as it had been done to both of us.

My parents moved their church membership at the end of that year and over the summer I again got involved with that youth group.  Just as school was starting up, I met a new guy at church. He was a freshman at Georgia Tech and I was starting my senior year of high school. Very soon, he was my only regular date and the next thing, by Christmas we were engaged! A very different world from now.

I graduated from high school one week and 2 weeks later, after my 18th birthday, we married in a big church wedding. We lived in married student housing at Tech and I started school at Ga. State in nursing.

I feel so privileged that he will still see me and treat me–it was 4 years ago last month that I had a stroke after the surgery that he and an orthopedic doctor performed to fix a disk in my neck that had herniated into my spinal cord. The stoke was absolutely not their fault in any way. We found out that the PCA pump to give demerol for pain had been misprogrammed and I got 3 times too much of a dose. I bottomed out, and when my husband found me the next morning I was not breathing. Even though I had a living will, he automatically called for help and I spent 3 days in ICU on a narcane drip-totally asleep and out of it. To this day, I have no memories of that time! When I finally woke up, I found that I could not speak  except for whispers and could not swallow correctly. Apparently, the stroke had affected my vocal cords and swallow ability. I spent 18 months going through surgeries and speech therapy trying to get my voice back. I have to be honest. I have heard the tapes! It was painful to listen to me try and speak! At first it was a whisper,then the worst of the frog! At 18 months past the surgery, the doctors said they could do no more for me. I would just have to adjust. But I have always believed that my job (recruiting) is my ministry-much less anyone else I run in to–I could not imagine that God wanted me to be silent!

I went to my pastors at my church. I asked them to anoint me with oil and pray over me-just as the Bible instructs for the sick. They did and within days and then weeks my voice became stronger and stronger! To this day, my clients and candidates and associates who went through that time with me are amazed. My doctor admits I am a talking miracle.

So as I have re-built my practice-after having the most incredible, supportive boss and team a person ever could ask for-we came to an economy that was being killed-especially in key markets-and I have watched in awe as God as provided regardless.

So here I am facing having my head partially shaved on Tuesday and letting them open up my scalp, hoping that the skull is not involved. I know that the surgeon really doesn’t know what exactly the tumor is-but I know he will get it all and be truthful with me as to where we go from here….hopefully only a hair extension…but God has not seem fit to deal with me simply in the past, so I know I have to be prepared for anything. my doctor of course, is scared to death of anything going wrong, even to having the same anesthesiologist that took out my gall bladder last year work with me Tuesday!

Here’s my take on this: I think I still have things to do. I am just involved in a new ministry at my church, GriefShare. We’ve had 2 wonderful weeks with more and more people coming and freely sharing. I think God wants me to be a part of that.

I am also a prayer partner with my sister-the other half of my heart. We truly are “joined at the hip” as my dad used to say. We need each other to survive this world, I think. Surely God is not ready to pull me away from her…

And my immediate family…I know that I am the catalyst. That is not ego, it is what they tell me. Because I believed, they found their OWN belief. I have grandchildren I want to share that with.

And then there is my business as a recruiter. Yes, I am professional to the T. I do the right thing in all instances, regardless of the cost to me. Like Esther in the Old Testament, I believe that I was put here for “such a time as this” to share the Good News-The Messiah has come! Read about it thru out the old testament into the new-simply asking God to show what is real! 

I could not survive any other way! By now, truly, I would have slit my wrists, or just gone to sleep-into eternity, but I know that I know that MY GOD has a purpose in everything He does. And I bow to it.

My husband-the absolute love of my life had a mitral valve go bad in November of 2006. This was just after I had gotten my voice back from losing it with a stroke in August of 2005. I had started back to work on a part-time basis, when he was struck. By the time I got him to the hospital that night, 80% of his lungs were filled with fluid and his heart was filled up with blood, the oxigenated and unoxigenated going back and forth between the heart chambers as we saw on the echo. The doctor immediately came over and said he had to have surgery. We called our church for the name of  a heart surgeon and were given one. Then we prayed together that God would show us what to do. Guess who walked in that door in the next 10 minutes? Of course, my cardiologist along with this referred doctor! It seemed he was a mitral valve specialist and people come to him from all over the world. Could anyone other than God put that together?

After the catherization that took over 2 hours instead of 45 minutes, I followed my husband into CCU. I was told he was very sick and did I understand that? I asked, “What do you mean? Like he’s doing to die?” I was told his chances were not very good. His heart was very enlarged. They had put an auxillary pump on to help it and they had tried to drain as much fluid off of his lungs as they could. I asked them, “If he is so sick, why don’t you operate today?” I was told he wouldn’t survive an operation until they could get him stronger. This was a Wednesday night.

On Thursday night, I had allowed my parents to come over from Orlando. They loved him so much and wanted to see him before the surgery on Friday. My sister and daughters were there too. We all went to dinner that night at Fridays. As is our regular habit, we blessed the food and prayed for my husband. Toward the end of our meal, a lady came over and told us how neat it was that we would bless a meal at a public place. My dad spoke up and let her know that my husband was having open heart (literally they cut your heart open for this) surgery the next day. She said-oh let’s pray again. Then she asked us to step outside and listen to her son play his accordian!!

Accordian!! not my favorite instrument! And he had only been taking lessons for 6 months. Well, what else could we do? This poor boy apparently had been out there all this time and she had prayed with us, so we went. I say this, because there is no way he could known our circumstances-but God did. When I came out, he started playing Amazing Grace! So magnificiently! I sank to my knees-knowing His Grace was sufficient for me and knew that my husband would survive the surgery.

It has been almost 3 years. He has 30% heart function, but no other health issues! He does have a pacemaker/defibulator in-done in 07. But he is back doing “honey-dos’ and keeping up our home! I love him so much! Thank you God for the gift of more years together! In May 2010, it will be 30 years!.

The only “interesting times” were my continuing sprains from playing ball and my brother’s emergency issues. I guess we had insurance back in those days-my poor parents!

There was a time at age 9 when I thought I was going to have a baby!! After all, my body was changing and I had a lot of stomach aches. I really didn’t want to have a baby-my brother was 3 by now and I had been thru his babyhood-and couldn’t imagine…my mom came in one night to tuck me in and say my prayers with me. I was crying. She asked me why and I replied that I was having a baby and didn’t want one. At that point, she explained a bit and asked me if I had done anything like THAT-of course I hadn’t. I didn’t realize even then about it takes two people. I was entirely too sheltered, but my dad was determined to raise us as if it were the 40′s!

Sometime in these years, my Dad ws building a boat. Actually a very nice cabin cruiser. We spent many a Saturday out on the water. I didn’t  realize my mom couldn’t swim and that she was always extremely uncomfortable, but found out years later-she went for Dad. At some point, Dad decided to teach me to ski. Being the uncoordinated person I was-am, I couldn’t get up and stay up. The end of my skiing as a child came when Dad and the boat were on the way back to pick me and drove right over me!! Somehow, with my mom screaming, he cut the motor in time, but I went under that boat thinking I was dead meat. I was amazed when I surfaced on the other side. I didn’t learn to ski until I was 16.

When I was 12, two things happened. I had a bad case of appendicitis. Again, not something they could check by a scan and the blood test was negative, but when the DR operated, my appendicts was about to burst. Again, God taking care of me. This time, I still remember the unrelenting pain afterwards, my 2nd major surgery.

But then something wonderful happened in April. My sister, Marilou was born. Oh, she was so tiny-4 wks early and when she came home, it was hard to get 2 oz down her! I took over night time feedings and loved her so much!And 18 months later, Andrew came along! Now I had 2 babies to play momma to!

Of course, I had my first major crush at 13-the 8th grade. I thought I would die when my boyfriend threw me over for my best friend. It was nice when I was 15 and he came back wanting to start up again, and I could say, SORRY! But oh, the tears a 13 yr old cries! How very real those feelings are! I’ve never forgotten-never dished my girls’ tears when they were going through it-as all girls do.

During all the growing up years, we attended church everytime the doors opened. Both my parents were very active. Dad was out every night of the week either working or at church. My nickname as Sunday School was “Sunshine”. I had so many questions on Sunday night though, I don’t think I was very well liked by the teachers. I loved girl’s auxillary on Wed. nights. To graduate to each leavel up to “queen” you had to learn a lot about missions and memorize scripture among many other tasks. You learned the names of the countries of the world, where we had missionaries, what they did and experienced. I think the main emphasis was on missions. When I was 9, I joined the church and was baptized. I did believe that Jesus Christ was the Son Of God, but at the same time had such rebellion in my heart…no one was going to tell ME what to do!

That was my problem with Dad. He was very dictatorial, very much the authority. When I came home from a party at 11 and showed him I had learned to dance the twist, he immediately forbade my dancing! I told him it was fun and all my friends were dancing, so I was going to also!. It was weird. He let me go to dances, but God forbid we were caught dancing at home!

My favorite year was the 9th grade. I was in the chorus- a lot of the “popular” crowd was in there and I got included. We had a year end “round up” -remember this is Texas! with a talent show and carnival. By this time I was a pretty good dancer and picked up most everything.  Our chorus group did a square dance routine and I danced with one of the most popular guys as my partner! heaven! Of course I can’t remember his name now!

My on again, off again boyfriend went to my church. Most of my church friends went to myhigh school. I auditioned and got into the “Bellaire Belles”- kind of a high school soriety and drum/bugle corp combined. I was to play the snare drum.  My parents always said I could date when I went to high school. I think they thought I’d be 16, but I was only 15 and that summer, I grew boobs! Finally! But naive and innocent, I was dangerous! I wish now that dating and boys weren’t so important through high school. Now that I have had time to reflect back on it, I wasn’t getting the approval, care or attention that a girl needs, actually craves from her dad. (Not that he knew how to give it)… I often thought I could have dyed my hair green and he wouldn’t have noticed, as long as my belly button wasn’t showing from a bathing suit, or my hip huggers! Let’s just say that I dated a lot, but had a rep for not “putting out”. I’d find out there was competition to see who could score. That certainly didn’t do much for my ego-it certainly wasn’t me that was important.

We had traveled out to the GrandmCanyon on the way to Disney Land from  Houston where we lived. My parents had waxed poetic about how beautiful everything was and the river below–of course they could see all that–from their height! So I had simply climbed under the guard rail, and part way down the mountain to see what they were seeing.  Little did I know that grown people are often blown off of outcropped rocks if they’ve trespassed as I did. I was just a skinny little mini at 5–but no wind came up to blow me away. My dad said the hand of God protected me that day. I only knew I was in trouble again! Even while I was being kissed and hugged after “being found”.

My dad was in the navy in WWII. He also grew up in a household where he was not wanted or loved. He coped by being as perfect as possible and expected everyone to do the same! He was very intelligent. He had a PhD in Physics and during his business career actually invented things used in our everyday lives-but of cousrse the companies he worked for hold the patents!

At any rate, our household was run by Dad. And in all things, we  had to ask him first-even to switching from winter to summer PJ’s! Even though he was a very strict father, he dearly loved his wife and children. All the love he hadn’t been able to receive or give as a child, he gave as he was able.

When I was 6, for Christmas , I got handmade doll furniture, even a wardrobe with doors to put my dolls clothes in. I still remember how everything looked! I loved it so much! Of course, at  the time, I didn’t understand how much time and love must have gone into the making of it all, but I do now.

That summer, my dad was going to finish the big remodel on our house. My mom, sister and new brother and I rode the Greyhound bus to South Carolina. My grandmother lived in Timmonsville where she had a farm. We stayed with her for the summer-probably one of the best times of my life. Unfortunately when she came to pick us up at the bus stop, I was so excited to see her, I left my precious doll and her furniture on the bus. For years afterward, I would check to see if anyone had turned it in. Now I guess that some other little girl had the joy of the doll and the furniture-as that would be just like God’s nature to see to it.

Grandman raised cotton and tobacco. She also had cows and chickens–all the things you’d expect on a farm. They were pretty self sustaining. Milk from the cows, no,I couldn’t milk them, did try! Eggs from the chickens,which I collected every morning and I took the cows out to pasture every day.  The only bad part about living on the farm was drinking the well water! It must have had sulphar or some kind of mineral in it, but I could not drink it! I didn’t like cow’s milk either, so I was in trouble every day because I only drank juice or the sweet ice tea Grandma made.

I had to sit at the table for hours each night, looking at that glass of water my mother wanted me to drink!. Grandma had such a soft heart and often tried to intervene or sneak the water away. It took me years to be able to drink water after that! Iguess I was in my 30′s before I learned to even drink seltzer water.

As I said, my grandma raised tobacco. My favorite time was riding the tobacco drags and picking the leaves for harvest. Then the people she hired to harvest, wrap and dry the leaves taught me how to wrap them for drying. I was working but having so much fun! When we went to market to sell the tobacco, I had my first experience at an auction. All the growers would bring the tobacco to the warehouse and it would be laid out to be looked at–I guess some looked better than others-and then the lot would go for the best price. The really fun part of that visit to auction was riding those pallets with wheels up and down the warehouse levels. My cousins were with us and it was such a great time that it is one of my favorite memories 50+ years later.

I celebrated my 7th birthday in Timmonsville. I got cowgirl clothes and a cap pistol with which I chased all my guests, shooting them! I had mostly boy cousins my age, so that summer, I became a full-fledged tomboy. I learned to play softball and basketball and touch football.

My aunt visited from Nebraska, coming by train. When she was leaving to go back, my mom and I went on the train with her to get her settled. Of course my mom and aunt were big talkers and before we knew it, the train was pulling out of the station!  We didn’t/couldn’t go too, so my mom told me to jump off the train as she did. Of course, I broke my ankle and spent the rest of the summer on crutches.

When we went back to Houston, I just played with the neighborhood boys as there weren’t any girls around then. I was a good pitcher, decent batter, so I was welcome. we also played Tarzan and Jane a lot.

All the lots in our neighborhood were 1 acre so there was plenty of room to play. We had lot’s of trees in our backyard and I desperately wanted a treehouse (shades of Swiss Family Robinson). I never got one, but we did have a playhouse. A one room, little cablin. Of course, no electricity or anything, but during the day, we had plenty of light and played in there. Later, it turned out to be a scary, unsafe place, but originally, we did girlscout type camp outs, sleeping w/flashlight, cookng breakfast  on a can with serno underneath. It was really cool to make pancakes and bacon. I remember either a brownie or girl scout deal for a year or two and getting lot’s of badges.  That’s how I learned to cook on that “homemade” stove.

Some major (strange) things happened along the way during time that have affected my health ever since.  My dad took us to the park regularly. I loved the merry-go-round. He told me that little people under it made it go round and round. Of course, being the inquisitive kid (remember the Grand Canyon) I stuck my head underneath to see the little people. Unfortunately someone turned the merry-go-round at the same time and all I remember is the REALLY bad pain in my neck and not being able to life my head off of the sofa. I was so young, I have no idea how long that went on, but know that I have had neck problems ever since.

In Texas, growing up, we never wore shoes. I don’t know about other states, but we were always barefoot. I think I only wore shoes to school and to church. One day, going to see my new best friend Candy, who lived behind us, I climbed the fence, just as I always had. This time, jumping off, I landed on a broken root which went right up into my foot and broke off again. Of course, as a little kid, probably 8, you don’t know when you have been seriously hurt, but our housekeeper did. She called my parents immediately when she couldn’t stop the bleeding. (my mom had gone back to work as a designer by then) I do remember how very painful it was and without MRIs or CTScans, all the doctor could do was probe around inside my foot every week, trying to find that piece that had broken off. They knew it was in there, because the wound wouldn’t heal. I spent another summer on crutches and finally the wound healed over. My granddaughters think the lovely “hole” in my foot is funny.

You’d think I would be careful after that, but the next year, playing Tarzan and Jane, swinging on the rope-it broke. I landed on my arm at the wrist. I could see my wrist laying beside my arm, held on by my skin. Luckily for me, my dad was home and heard the screaming. He put my arm in a pillow, taped it up and then scooped me up to the car and we took off. We ran red lights and he was blinking his horn and flashing his lights! All of a sudden, we had a police escort, if I hadn’t been in such pain, I would have been excited! Apparently in this kind of break, there is a possibility of an artery being cut and he was just trying to get me help ASAP. As soon as we were at the hospital, I was whisked away for surgery. They set my arm and I wore a cast for 6 wks. Unfortunately this was my first of many surgeries.

The dermatologist did a biopsy, stitched it up, and told me to come back  in 10 days. I got the lipoma diagnosis on Monday. The only problem is that lipomas keep on growing. If they aren’t completely cut out, they come back! They are supposed to be slow growing and not painful, but of course MY Lipoma defies the norm!

I met with a great general surgeon who explained what it will mean to cut this much tissue out of my scalp. Not a pretty description. He also wanted me to consult with my neurosurgeon before going further. I am scheduled to see him on the 24th if not sooner-and I do hope it is sooner. It seems by the pain and feeling the edges of the tumor that it has grown quite a bit since Wednesday.

So my first feelings on Monday were-not again, why me?, I can’t afford to be away from work long, what in the world is God thinking? Why is He allowing this-one more thing to happen to me? I cried, I yelled at Him! I know that with every experience I have had He has brought someone into my life to share that experience and have complete understanding of how he/she feels! But this time, this time, I really didn’t want to do that either! I told the Lord to stop this! It isn’t fair that I have to hurt to share understanding, my faith, my God. I share with the people that come into my sphere every day. That should be enough!

I have learned the hard way not to stay mad at God for long. After a good cry, I opened my Bible to the Psalms. Once again, there was comfort and promise for His best for me. I was reminded again of all that He has provided and cared for and done for me all through the years. I know He is not going to stop now.

What was amazing was my first 2 calls the next day! Of course they would be people with brain tumors! At least mine is not in my brain! Something to be thankful for. But as we talked and shared, I knew that God was once again, doing His thing, helping me help someone else. In fact, after the calls, I raised my hands in the air and said, “ok God, I get it, I get it.”

So while I continue to work through this new challenge, I ask for YOUR prayers for me. That I will not be a complainer, but a good patient, always mindful that it could be worse.

to share my life stories. Some will be present day, some will be from my

childhood-but they all have a link-God’s abiding Grace and Love and

Care!

Last night was the first night of our new GriefShare Ministry at our

Church. We had 15 people come who had recently-very recently-lost

loved ones to death. We had 2 hours of sharing their stories, getting

acquainted, watching a helping video and going over questions. All

of those 15 people came as a result of a wonderful newspaper article

that had been written by Michelle Bearden and published by the Tampa

Tribune on August 22. It was titled “Using Grief to Aid Others”. Using grief to aid others

I must say, I certainly didn’t expect the incredible response from hurting

people all over the Bay area! It seems that most people don’t know of

this wonderful ministry–any more than I did when I suffered loss.

I am the first born of 6 children. As such, I was very close to my mom

and dad. They were retired, living in assisted living after mom had

suffered a stroke. We saw them often, had then visit us often for several

days, and yes, I spoke with them mostly every day. I always knew that

they were THERE for me. I could call and ask for advice or prayer at any

time of the day, and they’d stop for me.

On November 5, 2008, my mom passed away. It wasn’t unexpected.

She had broken her leg earlier and from some reason that seemed to

heighten her dementia. So she stopped eating and drinking and 14 days

later, she died. But oh for the those 14 days, I was there every day.

Of course the rest of my precious family was there too. Everyone came

to say goodbye. But my sister and often my brother (who lived in the

same town) were there most of the time with me. We let our Dad come

for a portion of each day. But he was not in good health either and it is

very hard to sit for hours at a time, day after day in a nursing home

room. I would climb into bed with mom and up until the last 2 days of

her life, she’d put her arm around me.  Her only other response was

to purse her lips for a kiss. I would tell her how much I loved her and

what a great mom she had been. But I also told her to tell Jesus to come back

soon and get us-not to forget that one thing to say! And then I’d talk

about all those who had gone before that she would soon see and how

jealous I was that she was going to see Jesus first! Oh, she’d be seeing

my grandma, who had died when I was 12 and loved so much. I know

my mom said she missed her mother every day of her life since. Now I

know that feeling too. And she’d be seeing my niece and nephew, both

having died at 23 months, and my own lost 3 children to miscarriage.

I wouldn’t take anything for that time with my mom.

After her funeral, I brought my dad back to our home to stay for several

weeks. We had a good time with memories and tears but also talking

about the future. Dad was going to write another book and spent most

of his days working on it. I delighted in cooking his favorites and spoiling

him. We often spoke of my crazy life and he would say-”you need to write

it down”. But I always replied “my life is stranger than fiction. No one

would believe that all the things that I’ve been through have actually

happened to one person”.

When I took my dad back to his new apt at the assisted living facility, I

had him checked out first by his doctor, who assured him, he was doing

well and certainly not ready to die on us!

Exactly one week later, I received a call from my sister that my dad had

fallen and broken his hip. We also found out that the stress had led to a

heart attack. Needless to say, no one wanted to operate! But he was in

such pain! He begged for help! It was awful and we agreed to insist on

the surgery, regardless of what the outcome could be. No one can stay

in that state for long. After surgery, which amazingly he survived, he

was still in horrific pain. We had to be rather demanding with the ICU

people to get him enough meds. On Saturday night, the 13th, our

wonderful hospice mgr told us we could change his care–he was not

responding, his body was failing, but my sister and I couldn’t just pull

the plug! So we went home and prayed together, asking God to take the

decision out of our hands.

When we went in the next morning, the nurse who greeted us at the door

said, ” Your dad is going to die today. His heart began to fail in the night”.

I questioned her as to what that kind of death meant-essentially

drowning in one’s own blood. I asked that instead, they simply discon-

tinue his insulin as he was diabetic. That way, he would simply go to

sleep and into eternity. Dad died right after lunch time, very peacefully.

As I edit this nearly 3 years later, it is amazing to me how fresh the grief still  is –but that is

something you learn in GriefShare–that grieving takes time, sometimes more than that for others, but

you have to give it time. Being involved with GriefShare has been so wonderful for my own

healing. I can not recommend it enough.