It's been a year already since the longest and hardest week of my life. I learned a lot that week and in the days that followed. Please allow me to look back and share some of it with you.
If my daddy had to be sick before he died, I guess this was a blessing. He avoided doctors and hated being in the hospital. (A trait his oldest daughter inherited.) My brother made the decision that Sunday afternoon. Something was wrong and Daddy had to go to the hospital. It would be the last week of my dad's life. No long treatments, no constant visits to doctor's offices and clinics, no weeks or months or years of suffering. Just this week.
That day in the ER we suddenly had our last conversation with our father, my mother's husband. Life support. The unknown thing attacking his body was rapidly taking over. What it was was a mystery. We took up residence in the MICU waiting room and began the exhausting process of waiting, answering so many questions from the doctors. Tests and more tests, and then waiting for just a few days for their answers seemed like longer than eternity.
Finally we knew. Finally it was time to let him go. The decision was made. Medicine could not flight this cancer. We sat beside his bed for less that 48 hours. We loved on him, cried, remembered, and waited. One week after it all began it was over. My father was in the arms of Jesus, and my mother was a widow. We went home and began a new walk in life. All of us aching. All of us wanting to be together. All of us wondering, what now?
As I watched my mom those seven days in the waiting room I saw an incredibly inspiring strength in her. She would stand tall and face whatever came her way, but when the pressure became too heavy she took off down the hall on what became known as her "power walk." When she disappeared we knew to leave her alone - we couldn't keep up with her pace anyway! She assumed the role of matriarch, head of our family, with dignity. We, her children, found comfort in her quiet assurance. We came together to hold her up. We learned how to stand beside her and support her in the toughest times. We learned how to give her space to grieve what was to come.
As the doctors told us more, all the adults were involved in the conversations. Mom, me, my sister and brother, my daughter, my oldest nephew, my husband, and my sister-in-love would discuss the options laid before us. Our opinions mattered to her, but she owned the decisions. We would say to her, "You're the momma," and she gained strength from our support.
One day at a time became her mantra. She and daddy shared a love for the song by that name. During those first days and weeks as she learned what life was now like for her she sang it often. Today, a year later, I look back at the number of times I have shared her outlook with others. She has said the words to many women in the last twelve months, allowing God to simply use her to encourage someone else through the terrible pain of loss.
I always knew my mom as a strong woman. She has an uncanny ability to accept the pain life offers with secure knowledge that God is in control of the whole thing. Sure, she sheds tears and hurts deeply. She gets angry and doesn't understand the whys of the tragedies of life. Leaning heavily on the Lord, though, she is able to get through.
Three Hundred Sixty-five days later I have learned so much from her. There is nothing that comes her way she doesn't at least try. She might not mow grass the same way Daddy did, but that big red lawn tractor is now hers. Today as I write she is laying carpet tiles in her basement. Next week she plans to take up and replace the tile in her laundry room. She has repaired the drain pipe from her HVAC unit. The list goes on and on. Her independent spirit drives her to try before asking for help. She has often told me how angry she gets when she can't do something and has to call one of us. After all, she's still the momma!
My parents were married for 53 years. For more than the last decade they had been together every day. The hole left in her heart is huge. It would be easy, so easy, for her to give in to the sorrow and despair of having to live without the man she had spent her life adoring and being adored by in return. I watch with pride as she refuses to give in. Her advice? Get out of the house every day. Get up and DO something. More importantly, remember that God is in control. After all, we can only take "One day at a time, sweet Jesus. That's all we're asking from You."
No comments:
Post a Comment