Two years ago I went to sleep on the night of January 20th, totally exhausted, but happy that the next day was a Friday. Fridays meant that I didn't work so I just had to take care of Nathan and we didn't have any doctor appointments so it was only the ever-present cycle of medication monitoring, diabetes regulating, heating pad/pillow adjustment and whatever else Nathan needed or would let me do to try and make him more comfortable.
He hadn't been able to sleep lying down in months, so I went to bed alone, as usual. I hadn't slept next to him for about three and a half months except once at the hospital when they moved another bed next to his and let me sleep in it. That was one of the hardest things, because we were always touching while sleeping. Sometimes it was just an arm or a leg but we were normally completely tangled up with each other. Even now I ache for the comfort, reassurance, and safety that sleeping next to my husband gave me.
I went to bed around two, I think, after either taking off or putting on his compression socks- not sure which, now, either was nearly a form of torture for both of us. Nathan slept- what little the pain would let him sleep- in the living room in his recliner. At this point I was always so exhausted and he wasn't able to yell loudly enough to wake me up if he needed something so he would call my cell phone (which I kept by my pillow at full volume) to wake me up. When my phone rang I would roll out of bed not even completely conscious- just knowing he needed me. I controlled the pain meds at this point. Not because he might have gotten addicted-- he was hurting enough that wouldn't be possible, but because he wasn't lucid enough to remember things like how many he had taken and what time he last took them at. Even I had to write it down- there was so much to remember.
He usually needed me once or twice a night... if the pain was really bad a lot more often than that. At this point Nathan had the walker and we had a toilet riser and handles around the toilet, but he still needed my help. So there was usually a bathroom trip in the night. The bathroom was ten, maybe fifteen, feet from his chair. The trip there and back completely exhausted him and would usually take at least thirty minutes. It had taken up to an hour before. There are so many things about ambulation that we just take for granted. Nathan needed the walker even to get around our tiny apartment and he hated it so much. This was the guy who would play Ultimate Frisbee for hours without stopping. Who would chase squirrels and climb trees for no reason whatsoever.
Anyway, on this night I went to bed at 2AM, hoping that we might be able to get three or four hours in before the next pain med dosage. I was shocked when I woke up at 8AM and Nathan hadn't called me. I went into the living room and checked on him, but he was sleeping... well, it never looked comfortable, but peacefully. I was so excited. I thought maybe we were hitting an upswing. He'd done so well immediately after the bone marrow transplant. I just wanted him to get past all this terrible pain and start feeling better. I went straight back to bed, after I knew he was ok. In hindsight I know that he was sleeping so well because he could no longer feel the worst of the pain, but I didn't know that then and I was so tired and so happy.
He finally called me again at noon. Later, I would be so grateful for all the sleep I'd gotten that night, because when he called me and I stumbled into the living room he told me that he couldn't move or feel his legs. He had to explain it to me twice, because I couldn't understand it. I didn't understand how someone could become paralyzed from the waist down overnight. And then I freaked out. I totally and completely freaked, and he was there, making me come over to him so he could hug me. Telling me that it was going to be ok. Calming me down so I could call his bone marrow transplant physician at Barnes and then the ambulance to come get him, and his mom so she knew what was happening. He did that until the very end, always the one offering comfort rather than asking for it. Such an incredible man.
We spent the rest of that day in the Springfield ER, figuring out what to do and then they decided to transfer him to Barnes. Paula arrived and we ended up driving to St. Louis at around midnight, and spending most of the next day in their ER. Nathan had surgery Saturday night to try and drain the fluid around his spinal column that was pinching the nerve and not allowing him to move/feel his legs. He was sedated for the pain (and I think his O2 levels were low so they had intubated him as well?) at that point so Paula and I decided that he would want to go ahead with the surgery. It would only give him an 8% chance of being able to regain the use of his legs, and it was risky, but without the surgery he had a zero percent chance. After the surgery he would have had to wear a back brace for two months or so, I think, but we agreed that if there was any chance then Nathan would take it. He had to be able to run again, someday. He had to.
I didn't sleep until Sunday morning I think. He made it through the surgery well, but we wouldn't know if it had done anything until he woke up and probably not even then, what with the swelling brought on by the surgery. They brought him out of sedation sometime on Sunday, and his legs were the same, but we knew there might not be immediate results. Paula and I set up a rotating shift at the hospital. I had nights and I'd come in whenever I woke up for the days, but that way Nathan was only alone during the ICU mandated "no visitor" hours and we could speak to the doctors whenever they came in. Nathan was still highly drugged for all of this, which offered much laughter, even if it was slightly desperate laughter. At one point a male nurse was in the room, talking to Nathan about his pain and Nathan said, "Hey, When do I get my slippers?" The nurse asked him what he meant and Nathan said, "They said I would get some slippers. I want my free slippers, dammit."
The guy asked Nathan where he was and Nathan said he didn't know and the nurse said, "Well, Nathan you are at Barnes-Jewish. They don't give anything away for free here."
Nathan sort of drunkenly murmured, "Yeah, that's the truth." I just laughed.
He developed pneumonia at some point- one that antibiotics and anti-virals did nothing to fight, and the pnuemonia is what actually killed him, on the morning of Jan 29th. I'm not going to blog about the very last days. If you want to know about them, you can read this post. I just haven't really talked about this part before, and I guess I sorta wanted to explain why I might not seem much like myself this week, or why I might make decisions that run counter to my "norm."
I guess I really just wanted to feel like I wasn't the only person who had this information. Like someone else understands, even if just by proxy, a bit of what it was like-- two years ago, today.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Monday, January 21, 2013
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Joys that Sting
Moving apparently requires a good deal of reflection for me.
Moving in the office is particularly hard, because it's the place I'm most likely to run across Nathan's handwriting.
You might not expect his handwriting to be that big of a deal, but it is so distinctive- and was such an intimate part of my life... How many people's handwriting can you recognize- especially in the era of e-mail? Your family members and-- one or two of your friends? ...Maybe it's only because I'm a writer, but to me his handwriting is like his voice and so it's hard to run across unexpectedly.
I think the only thing harder is to know that at some point I won't run across it unexpectedly anymore.
At some point there will be an end to the "discoveries."
It probably sounds like a ridiculous thing to say, but the worst part of death is that there is never any more.
What I have is it.
Kara found me a poem, a while back. I'll share it with you, because C.S. Lewis was a brilliant man.
Moving in the office is particularly hard, because it's the place I'm most likely to run across Nathan's handwriting.
You might not expect his handwriting to be that big of a deal, but it is so distinctive- and was such an intimate part of my life... How many people's handwriting can you recognize- especially in the era of e-mail? Your family members and-- one or two of your friends? ...Maybe it's only because I'm a writer, but to me his handwriting is like his voice and so it's hard to run across unexpectedly.
I think the only thing harder is to know that at some point I won't run across it unexpectedly anymore.
At some point there will be an end to the "discoveries."
It probably sounds like a ridiculous thing to say, but the worst part of death is that there is never any more.
What I have is it.
Kara found me a poem, a while back. I'll share it with you, because C.S. Lewis was a brilliant man.
Joys that Sting
"Oh doe not die," says Donne, "for I shall hate
All women so." How false this sentence rings.
Women? But in a life made desolate
It is the joys once shared that have the stings.
To take the old walks alone, or not at all,
To order one pint where I ordered two,
To think of, and then not make, the small
Time-honoured joke (senseless to all but you);
To laugh (oh, one'll laugh), to talk upon
Themes that we talked upon when you were there,
To make some poor pretence of going on,
Be kind to one's old friends, and seem to care,
While no one (O God) through the years will say
The simplest, common word in just your way.
--C.S. Lewis
All women so." How false this sentence rings.
Women? But in a life made desolate
It is the joys once shared that have the stings.
To take the old walks alone, or not at all,
To order one pint where I ordered two,
To think of, and then not make, the small
Time-honoured joke (senseless to all but you);
To laugh (oh, one'll laugh), to talk upon
Themes that we talked upon when you were there,
To make some poor pretence of going on,
Be kind to one's old friends, and seem to care,
While no one (O God) through the years will say
The simplest, common word in just your way.
--C.S. Lewis
I recognize a lot of things in the poem, but it's the "(O God)" in the last sentence that gets me... because there is so much in those two words. It's the sorrow in the realization that he is gone that keeps dawning on you in moments you least expect it. It's the despair of never hearing his laugh again. It's the anger of having your plan and your life stolen away. It's the quiet fear of a life alone and without him. It's the stricken terror that what you are saying is true...
and the hopeful prayer that it isn't.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Bad Mamma-Jamma
I hate to cover up my post from last night. I worked for a long time on those drawings! This is the problem with blogging every day. You always gotta come up with new things to say and it's hard to top yesterday's.
I watched "The Descendants" tonight with my cousin. I kinda knew what it was about going into it. I didn't expect so much of it to take place in a hospital room, but I was happy to see it was a real hospital room... with the curtain dividers and duty charts and all the right things on the wall. But the reviews were awesome and so I said let's watch that. I kept hearing it was a tear jerker... so I had my widow supplies at the ready... but I watched it... and this may make me sound totally cold hearted, but I didn't even choke up, much less cry. I just kept thinking that I lived through that... I didn't have daughters but I didn't have him long enough to have 17 year old with him. And I had more time to prepare myself for the possibility, but I didn't have enough time to have his friends come to say their goodbyes... He did not tarry... always impatient.
I kinda feel like Sarah in the Labyrinth... "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered I have fought my way here to the castle beyond goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen from me. For my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me."
Fear is the power that cancer has. But I've lived through an experience that was harder than this movie that everyone thinks is so sad. What have I to be afraid of?
Cancer can't do anything to the most basic part of you... it has no power over the soul.
So either that's why I didn't cry tonight or it's because I'm one bad mamma-jamma.
or both
probably both.
I watched "The Descendants" tonight with my cousin. I kinda knew what it was about going into it. I didn't expect so much of it to take place in a hospital room, but I was happy to see it was a real hospital room... with the curtain dividers and duty charts and all the right things on the wall. But the reviews were awesome and so I said let's watch that. I kept hearing it was a tear jerker... so I had my widow supplies at the ready... but I watched it... and this may make me sound totally cold hearted, but I didn't even choke up, much less cry. I just kept thinking that I lived through that... I didn't have daughters but I didn't have him long enough to have 17 year old with him. And I had more time to prepare myself for the possibility, but I didn't have enough time to have his friends come to say their goodbyes... He did not tarry... always impatient.
I kinda feel like Sarah in the Labyrinth... "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered I have fought my way here to the castle beyond goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen from me. For my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me."
Fear is the power that cancer has. But I've lived through an experience that was harder than this movie that everyone thinks is so sad. What have I to be afraid of?
Cancer can't do anything to the most basic part of you... it has no power over the soul.
So either that's why I didn't cry tonight or it's because I'm one bad mamma-jamma.
or both
probably both.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Joy
Apparently Feb 1st is the day to blog. I had a ton of people write blogs in my feed.
So what I was going to say... What I have to say.
I've been feeling recently like I have so much joy... and I've been seeing people who don't. And I want to share, but I don't know how. It's not something that just rubs off if I touch a person. It's not something that I can give by talking about it. It's not even something that I can pass along through prayer. (God can, but not me.) And I don't get it, cause I want to share... so many people have been asking about me and concerned about me and aware of this time... and I thank them for it--- but I'm ok.
I was talking to someone the other day and they said that people who are happy are easier to grieve for in some respects... because people tend to grieve the person the way *they* would want. And Nathan... he wouldn't have wanted tears and sorrow. Nathan *loved* life. Nathan would have wanted joy for me.
I saw an article today-- the 5 five regrets of the dying. And I thought- I don't think Nathan had many regrets... things that he would have changed about the way he lived. Obviously I think he would have chosen to live longer and experience more if he could've, but you can't really regret the life that you don't get. And he lived *so* well while he was here... and oh how he loved.
Sunday morning, I woke up at 8, and I lay in bed and I thought.. I wanted to be awake at 8:30... I wanted to be awake- but not in sorrow. And in that time I got this feeling... this anticipation... this awareness... and it will sound strange, but the only thing I can liken it to is the feeling I had that last week in the hospital... when I knew something bad was going to happen... only this time it wasn't a bad feeling... it was a good feeling. There is good up ahead... I just know it.
Since that day- since the bashing- I've just had a lightness of heart. Nathan would have loved his celebration. He's probably up in heaven jealous that he didn't think of it first. Or maybe he did and he told God to implant the idea in Kara's subconscious.
Anyway... I just feel... well-- not "healed" because I think there will always be scars and hang-ups... but I feel healthy. I'll never forget him. Never ever ever. But I don't feel so broken. I was *so* lucky to have been loved by such a man, and even if it never happens again... God will be enough... He will provide the friends, the people, the support that I need.
I wish I could give you a piece of that... a seed of that joy, but I don't know how.
So what I was going to say... What I have to say.
I've been feeling recently like I have so much joy... and I've been seeing people who don't. And I want to share, but I don't know how. It's not something that just rubs off if I touch a person. It's not something that I can give by talking about it. It's not even something that I can pass along through prayer. (God can, but not me.) And I don't get it, cause I want to share... so many people have been asking about me and concerned about me and aware of this time... and I thank them for it--- but I'm ok.
I was talking to someone the other day and they said that people who are happy are easier to grieve for in some respects... because people tend to grieve the person the way *they* would want. And Nathan... he wouldn't have wanted tears and sorrow. Nathan *loved* life. Nathan would have wanted joy for me.
I saw an article today-- the 5 five regrets of the dying. And I thought- I don't think Nathan had many regrets... things that he would have changed about the way he lived. Obviously I think he would have chosen to live longer and experience more if he could've, but you can't really regret the life that you don't get. And he lived *so* well while he was here... and oh how he loved.
Sunday morning, I woke up at 8, and I lay in bed and I thought.. I wanted to be awake at 8:30... I wanted to be awake- but not in sorrow. And in that time I got this feeling... this anticipation... this awareness... and it will sound strange, but the only thing I can liken it to is the feeling I had that last week in the hospital... when I knew something bad was going to happen... only this time it wasn't a bad feeling... it was a good feeling. There is good up ahead... I just know it.
Since that day- since the bashing- I've just had a lightness of heart. Nathan would have loved his celebration. He's probably up in heaven jealous that he didn't think of it first. Or maybe he did and he told God to implant the idea in Kara's subconscious.
Anyway... I just feel... well-- not "healed" because I think there will always be scars and hang-ups... but I feel healthy. I'll never forget him. Never ever ever. But I don't feel so broken. I was *so* lucky to have been loved by such a man, and even if it never happens again... God will be enough... He will provide the friends, the people, the support that I need.
I wish I could give you a piece of that... a seed of that joy, but I don't know how.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
What I've learned
Ok, here we go. It's the day.
I can do this... I have a special outfit picked out, I have my alarm clock set, I have a full, and likely exhausting day of plans set. I can do this.
In honor of the day, I'm going to list the things I have learned over the last year.
1) I'm a hell of a lot stronger than I ever knew.
2) Everyone's grief is different. I know lots of people say this, but it's so hard to really grasp until you are in it.
3) I like Apple products. Yeah, so this one isn't deep... I still didn't know it at this time last year.
4) I have the most incredible set of friends anyone could ever ask for.
5) It sucks to have the illusion of immortality stripped away from you.... and from your friends.
6) Looking beautiful is a very important weapon in my arsenal of coping mechanisms.
7) I hate the phrase "move on." I am/will move forward, but you don't "move on" from your spouse dying, as if it's just a hurdle you have to get over.
8) Likewise I hate hearing that Nathan "lost his battle" with cancer. Eff that. Nathan's in heaven. That's winning. That's the ultimate winning. And besides that, cancer never broke him. Never. Heck it barely even got him down. He kicked cancer in the face and then he went to go tell God about it in person. He "lost," my patootie.
9) I'm a writer. I wouldn't have called myself that a year ago.
10) Joy is a choice and it's not always an easy one, but it is usually the right one.
11) I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. (Phil 4:13)
I can do this... I have a special outfit picked out, I have my alarm clock set, I have a full, and likely exhausting day of plans set. I can do this.
In honor of the day, I'm going to list the things I have learned over the last year.
1) I'm a hell of a lot stronger than I ever knew.
2) Everyone's grief is different. I know lots of people say this, but it's so hard to really grasp until you are in it.
3) I like Apple products. Yeah, so this one isn't deep... I still didn't know it at this time last year.
4) I have the most incredible set of friends anyone could ever ask for.
5) It sucks to have the illusion of immortality stripped away from you.... and from your friends.
6) Looking beautiful is a very important weapon in my arsenal of coping mechanisms.
7) I hate the phrase "move on." I am/will move forward, but you don't "move on" from your spouse dying, as if it's just a hurdle you have to get over.
8) Likewise I hate hearing that Nathan "lost his battle" with cancer. Eff that. Nathan's in heaven. That's winning. That's the ultimate winning. And besides that, cancer never broke him. Never. Heck it barely even got him down. He kicked cancer in the face and then he went to go tell God about it in person. He "lost," my patootie.
9) I'm a writer. I wouldn't have called myself that a year ago.
10) Joy is a choice and it's not always an easy one, but it is usually the right one.
11) I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. (Phil 4:13)
Friday, January 27, 2012
Miss him
hmmm
Weird day.
Weird dreams this morning.
Productive morning/afternoon, and then an accidental nap... and since then... sad.
There are a lot of different ways that I'm sad. Sometimes I sad about my life, what it used to be like and what it's like now. Sometimes I'm sad about how everything turned out and how much time is gone... and sometimes I'm just sad cause I really miss my friend.
This is one of those times... I really miss my friend.
I absolutely think the best reason to get married to someone is that they are your best friend, and I married mine, but that's part of the reason why it's hard. Because I don't just miss my husband, I miss the person who I talked to about the little things. I miss the steady prescence... the person who I always knew how they felt about me. It's amazing how much more difficult it can be to maintain self confidence when you never know how you are coming across to other people... and when it matters... cause it matters a lot more when you don't have that one person who you know thinks the sun rises and sets with you.
I don't wish it, but sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if our marriage wasn't so wonderful.
And sometimes... and I think this might make me a terrible person... sometimes I hear about people getting a divorce, or a guy being abusive and I think- why couldn't *that* guy have gotten cancer and died? Why did it have to be Nathan? who only ever abused video game controllers and would never have divorced me. Pretty sure God doesn't do trades like that... and those men have people who love them, too.
I remember what it was like to be adored.
Earlier this week I heard a guy talking about a classmate as, "That guy who only ever talked about his wife."
Nathan didn't take this class.... but I think he might have been one of those guys... I know that he told me about how he talked about me whenever he was introduced as a GA. At the time I didn't think it was odd, but looking back, I'm not sure many people would bring their personal life into their professional life like that. But he didn't care, he just liked bragging about me. He thought he was so lucky.... Though I think I'm the one who was lucky.
Tonight is the last time I ever spoke to him. They were getting worried about his oxidation levels and decided that they needed to intubate him. And the nurse left the room and we talked and he asked me what I thought. I said that I thought we had to do what the drs and nurses thought was best... and he nodded his head, tiredly, and said, "If you think that's what we should do then that's what we will do. I trust you. I don't care what the drs or nurses say, I trust you."
and I said, "I think we have to, babe."
And he said, "I love you, sweetheart. Forever and ever and ever."
And I said, "I love you, too, forever and ever and ever."
I want to move forward in my life- I am, in many ways. But please forgive me if every now and again I look back and just miss him.
Weird day.
Weird dreams this morning.
Productive morning/afternoon, and then an accidental nap... and since then... sad.
There are a lot of different ways that I'm sad. Sometimes I sad about my life, what it used to be like and what it's like now. Sometimes I'm sad about how everything turned out and how much time is gone... and sometimes I'm just sad cause I really miss my friend.
This is one of those times... I really miss my friend.
I absolutely think the best reason to get married to someone is that they are your best friend, and I married mine, but that's part of the reason why it's hard. Because I don't just miss my husband, I miss the person who I talked to about the little things. I miss the steady prescence... the person who I always knew how they felt about me. It's amazing how much more difficult it can be to maintain self confidence when you never know how you are coming across to other people... and when it matters... cause it matters a lot more when you don't have that one person who you know thinks the sun rises and sets with you.
I don't wish it, but sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if our marriage wasn't so wonderful.
And sometimes... and I think this might make me a terrible person... sometimes I hear about people getting a divorce, or a guy being abusive and I think- why couldn't *that* guy have gotten cancer and died? Why did it have to be Nathan? who only ever abused video game controllers and would never have divorced me. Pretty sure God doesn't do trades like that... and those men have people who love them, too.
I remember what it was like to be adored.
Earlier this week I heard a guy talking about a classmate as, "That guy who only ever talked about his wife."
Nathan didn't take this class.... but I think he might have been one of those guys... I know that he told me about how he talked about me whenever he was introduced as a GA. At the time I didn't think it was odd, but looking back, I'm not sure many people would bring their personal life into their professional life like that. But he didn't care, he just liked bragging about me. He thought he was so lucky.... Though I think I'm the one who was lucky.
Tonight is the last time I ever spoke to him. They were getting worried about his oxidation levels and decided that they needed to intubate him. And the nurse left the room and we talked and he asked me what I thought. I said that I thought we had to do what the drs and nurses thought was best... and he nodded his head, tiredly, and said, "If you think that's what we should do then that's what we will do. I trust you. I don't care what the drs or nurses say, I trust you."
and I said, "I think we have to, babe."
And he said, "I love you, sweetheart. Forever and ever and ever."
And I said, "I love you, too, forever and ever and ever."
I want to move forward in my life- I am, in many ways. But please forgive me if every now and again I look back and just miss him.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Hard
The New Year was hard.
So hard and rather unexpectedly so.
I hadn't been having much dread and I got through Christmas and Thanksgiving relatively unscathed, except for missing him...
But I was standing there with "Auld Lang Syne" playing and it suddenly just hurt so bad. And I started crying in a room full of people I didn't know (and a few I did.)
As sucky as 2011 was, it still contained the last time I spent with Nathan.
I'm sorry... There were a lot of other things I wanted to post about today, but I can't.... it's way too hard.
So hard and rather unexpectedly so.
I hadn't been having much dread and I got through Christmas and Thanksgiving relatively unscathed, except for missing him...
But I was standing there with "Auld Lang Syne" playing and it suddenly just hurt so bad. And I started crying in a room full of people I didn't know (and a few I did.)
As sucky as 2011 was, it still contained the last time I spent with Nathan.
I'm sorry... There were a lot of other things I wanted to post about today, but I can't.... it's way too hard.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Mental left
I hate it when my posts feel boring. But some days I'm just not inspired. I'm told that even when you don't have something earth-shattering to write that you should still write just because it's a good habit.... so I do. But don't think I don't know it when I've got a dud on my hands. When it's a good blog post it just seems to flow out of me and it's so easy to just write and write. When it's a not great one I just sit and stare at the screen and wonder what I should say.
Sometimes facts about my day come out. Sometimes random thoughts come out... sometimes I wax sentimental about attractive celebrities.
** abrupt mental turn**
Waiting on God is hard. I'm like Jeriah in some respects. When he wants something and doesn't get an answer he repeats himself. And when he still doesn't get an answer he repeats it louder. And louder and louder and louder until he gets an answer. That's what I do, too... I just repeat myself louder and louder and louder... I guess I want to be like the widow... Ha, that's kinda funny... but I mean the widow and the unjust judge in Luke 18
Sometimes facts about my day come out. Sometimes random thoughts come out... sometimes I wax sentimental about attractive celebrities.
** abrupt mental turn**
Waiting on God is hard. I'm like Jeriah in some respects. When he wants something and doesn't get an answer he repeats himself. And when he still doesn't get an answer he repeats it louder. And louder and louder and louder until he gets an answer. That's what I do, too... I just repeat myself louder and louder and louder... I guess I want to be like the widow... Ha, that's kinda funny... but I mean the widow and the unjust judge in Luke 18
1Now He was telling them a parable to show that at all times they ought to pray and not to lose heart, 2saying, “In a certain city there was a judge who did not fear God and did not respect man.3“There was a widow in that city, and she kept coming to him, saying, ‘Give me legal protection from my opponent.’ 4“For a while he was unwilling; but afterward he said to himself, ‘Even though I do not fear God nor respect man, 5yet because this widow bothers me, I will give her legal protection, otherwise by continually coming she will wear me out.’” 6And the Lord said, “Hear what the unrighteous judge said; 7now, will not God bring about justice for His elect who cry to Him day and night, and will He delay long over them? 8“I tell you that He will bring about justice for them quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?”
It takes a lot of perseverance to keep asking for something everyday until you wear the "opposing" party out. It seemed to be a lot easier when we were kids... why do you think that is? Are kids just used to not getting their way immediately? Or is that they have been working hard (and failing) at every accomplishment they've gotten (How often do toddlers fall down before they really master the whole walking thing?) Sometimes I wonder what Jesus would use as a parable if He were in the modern age. Would he talk about cell phone service and people who smoke and finding the perfect mechanic or would he still talk in farming stories and fishing stories.
**another abrupt mental turn**
The other day someone sent me an e-mail saying how much my blog helps them (and other people) cope with loss or grief... I'm always touched and amazed when I hear things like that. I'm so glad, to know it, too. I think that grief makes you selfish. It has to, in a way, because you have to take care of yourself to get through the pain, you have to be hyper vigilant of yourself and take care of yourself.... especially when it's your spouse, because no one else will be able to take care of you. So people finding some sort of help and comfort while I'm being totally self-centered... well it makes me feel a lot better about being self-centered for one thing.
** yet another abrupt mental turn**
I know that I have changed... I know that I have changed a lot from who I used to be... but I can't really tell how I've changed... But you don't go through a fire like that without having something burned away... I notice my own inconsistencies more, I suppose. For instance, I needed to stay home today and have some alone time. (I know, my introverted friends are sitting there with dropped jaws, right now.) And basically anything definitive that I say, I have to add a caveat to- usually within a few hours. I'm (strangely) more confident than I've ever been, and more willing to attempt to change the things about myself that I don't like. I might even have the smallest hint of ambition about me. I'm not sure that I'm better or worse than who I used to be... I certainly have far different things that I struggle with than I ever had before...
Tell me something, with all these mental right turns have I ended up where I started? Or did I just take the extra long way to take a mental left?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Christmas
Worst part of the Christmas season thus far:
Signing just my name on a gift.
I've only done it once and I'm not doing it again.
I read somewhere that grief starts out as a flood and slowly becomes a stream that overflows it's banks every so often.
It's true.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the yuletide gay
Next year all our troubles will be miles away
Once again as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who were dear to us
Will be near to us once more
Someday soon we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Signing just my name on a gift.
I've only done it once and I'm not doing it again.
I read somewhere that grief starts out as a flood and slowly becomes a stream that overflows it's banks every so often.
It's true.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the yuletide gay
Next year all our troubles will be miles away
Once again as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who were dear to us
Will be near to us once more
Someday soon we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
A fate most cruel
You know what more people need to know?? Just how darn attractive an expansive vocabulary is. Especially when subtly slipped into conversation, rather than used as a blunt weapon over the head, because you fancy yourself a "wordsmith."
I might, maybe, sometimes, have a tendency to caricature-ize to people... "wordsmith" among them.. But come on! You know who I'm talking about! The person who only uses 20 dollar words because he/she thinks it makes them interesting, when really it just makes them tedious. You know someone like this! (crosses fingers, closes eyes and whispers, "Please don't say me, please don't say me.")
TOPIC CHANGE!
You know what's really strange??
I still don't know what it's like to lose a friend. I mean yes, obviously Nathan was my friend.... but he was so much more than that, that it doesn't count... and now I'm about to sit down and *crank* out a One-Act-- or Reader's Theatre Script (tbd) and I don't really know what it's like to lose a friend... Weird. I imagine I can find a way to do it... but it's a strange thing to realize you don't know what moderation is when it comes to grief... and here I thought I knew everything. :)
It is a fate most cruel that I'm most inspired at 1:00 in the morning... on a day that I only got a few hours of sleep in, when I have a long day tomorrow, and no time in which to nap. Seriously, brain? You couldn't have gotten this inspired at 9:00 tonight?
I just accidentally signed an e-mail to my friends "Nae." I'm talking about college friends who have never called me "Nae" in the entire time we've known each other. (One of them was Kara and even she's never called me Nae.) There is probably some deep meaning to this regression, but right now all I can think is- "I am so weird!"
I currently have a web browser open with 18 tabs... God bless internet research.
and Kurt.
God Bless, Kurt!
I might, maybe, sometimes, have a tendency to caricature-ize to people... "wordsmith" among them.. But come on! You know who I'm talking about! The person who only uses 20 dollar words because he/she thinks it makes them interesting, when really it just makes them tedious. You know someone like this! (crosses fingers, closes eyes and whispers, "Please don't say me, please don't say me.")
TOPIC CHANGE!
You know what's really strange??
I still don't know what it's like to lose a friend. I mean yes, obviously Nathan was my friend.... but he was so much more than that, that it doesn't count... and now I'm about to sit down and *crank* out a One-Act-- or Reader's Theatre Script (tbd) and I don't really know what it's like to lose a friend... Weird. I imagine I can find a way to do it... but it's a strange thing to realize you don't know what moderation is when it comes to grief... and here I thought I knew everything. :)
It is a fate most cruel that I'm most inspired at 1:00 in the morning... on a day that I only got a few hours of sleep in, when I have a long day tomorrow, and no time in which to nap. Seriously, brain? You couldn't have gotten this inspired at 9:00 tonight?
I just accidentally signed an e-mail to my friends "Nae." I'm talking about college friends who have never called me "Nae" in the entire time we've known each other. (One of them was Kara and even she's never called me Nae.) There is probably some deep meaning to this regression, but right now all I can think is- "I am so weird!"
I currently have a web browser open with 18 tabs... God bless internet research.
and Kurt.
God Bless, Kurt!
Monday, October 24, 2011
One step back
I wrote something tonight, finally... but it wasn't something I can use for class... and it might make you cry, so don't read in front of your 8th period class. :)
A song started playing.
A song started playing.
It’s one of those songs that you listen to and suddenly begin to
create your own crappy you-tube montage in your head. All the moments in your
life that lead up to this. You replay in slow motion the time you sat up until
late in the morning discovering how much you had in common with this adorable
boy you’d just met. And the night outside on the deck, laughing as the
fireflies were twinkling around you. You replay when he put his hand on your
cheek and you suddenly wished that time would slow down. And how he manipulated you into kissing him
first. How you broke up and then got back together, but you made him kiss you
first, this time. You replay the moment you said goodnight and kissed in the
rain, just because neither of you had ever done that… and you replay the moment
when he told you about this wonderful dream he had… to be sitting in a window
seat, cuddled in a blanket, looking out a snowstorm with his wife, and how you secretly made that your new dream.
Then you replay the expression on his face when he asked you
to marry him, and then when you walked down the aisle, and the joy on his face
the first time you called him your husband. And all those silly moments when he
would come up behind you in the kitchen and kiss your neck and just be in the
way because he wanted to be near you and you shooed him away because you had
things on the stove. (Why did I do that? Who cares about a little burned supper?) You replay the moments when you were just sitting around
watching tv… and then you weren’t watching tv anymore.
Then you replay the moment when the dr told you it was
cancer, and he comforted you. And the moment they told you that he
would need a bone marrow transplant and all the trips to the hospital in the
freezing cold and the night that you watched an episode of Star Trek cuddled up
on his hospital bed and could touch him without hurting him for the first time
in months. You replay the night that they moved two beds together in the
hospital room so that you could sleep next to the man who kissed you in the
rain, once. You replay the days when he
was getting better and then you replay the days when he started getting worse.
You replay the nights when you could barely sleep because he was hurting so
much. You replay staying up all night sitting on the floor next to the bed just
to hold his hand cause that’s all you could do. You replay when he was so
drugged out that he thought he should get some free slippers, damn it. And then you
replay the last conversation you ever had where he told you he loved you
forever and that he trusted you.
And then the last days where all you could do was watch
those numbers drop.. and the last moment where for some reason you made sure
you looked at the time because you knew your life was changing forever and you
needed to know it was 8:30 in the morning.
And then you end the you-tube montage with a picture of you,
cuddled in a blanket on a window bench, looking out at a snowstorm, wishing he could have had that moment he’d
imagined.. You just thought you had time.
The damn song was shorter than it should have been.
I haven't given up on this new life that I'm heading towards... but it's still really hard to let go of the life I didn't get to have.
I struggle sometimes... I struggle with blessing people. There is this terrible selfish part of me that doesn't want to bless anyone. Because don't you understand what my life is like? Don't you understand what I've gone through, God? Why do I have to bless someone else? Today I chose to bless someone because I thought God wanted me to. But a "cheerful giver" I was not. Afterwards I sat down and cried.
I don't understand why it had to be Nathan. Other people are miraculously healed... why couldn't he have been? It's not like he wouldn't have given all the glory to God... He could have been such a powerful witness... He already was and he wasn't even better. I just... I just miss him, I miss his annoying hyperbole and the way he talked with his hands and a million other tiny little things.
I wrote a second ago that I don't know who I am anymore or what I want... but after thinking about it for a second, I realized it's not true. I mean I don't really recognize the girl I am anymore, but I still know... somewhere deep down, who I am... and I still know what I want... I just feel bad for wanting it. Because what I want hasn't changed through any of this. My blogspot is called "minus ambition" because I've never had big dreams... only small and simple ones- the only things in my life I've ever been fully committed to wanting is to be someone's partner... to be a companion and a support and a helpmeet... to raise beautiful children together.... to see my grandchildren and great grandchildren... to live out my happiness in the company of someone who loves me. And I still want all of that.
And I think that's why I struggle with blessing others, right now... because I feel like I was blessed and then it was taken away from me. Because while I fully admit I've been blessed- I've also been hurt. I've been hurt so much and so deeply and now I'm afraid that there isn't a man in this world who is brave enough to take on a girl who is only available because her husband died. I'm afraid that the only thing I'm going to get out of this life is just knowing exactly what I don't have.
I don't want to bless anyone else because I'm afraid that this is all I get... a sappy you-tube montage that only exists in my head.
It's hard. It's so hard to keep your heart soft.
Two steps forward...
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Rant
So the collision center left a message to let me know that my car is done... Thanks, dude, I picked it up on Friday. Kinda makes me think I should go out there and try and pick up my car again. Anyone want an extra Pruis?
Anyway, on to the real reason why I blog tonight:
I'm irritated. Irritated with stories that obviously aren't true and are just made up to manipulate emotions. I'm irritated that these stories don't get facts even close to possible. I mean I know that "Christmas Shoes" is just a bunch of schmaltz but I saw a story today posted on facebook that took "Christmas Shoes" and added a little sister who also died, a drunk driving accident, and a newspaper which is apparently allowed to publish facts like that a family has to decide whether or not to take someone off life support. I mean the original story is just this side of likely. But adding all the other things in there to manipulate emotions... it's really wrong. It's like a Jr. High kid trying to manipulate adults. Really transparent and rather offensive... especially because after all the bs of this made up story, this was the final line.
"Now you have 2 choices: (1) Copy & Paste this on your wall (2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart."
I would like to add a third option. Blog about it as though it totally ticked you off and you can't believe that someone would try and use death as a manipulation device.
It might be that I'm so mad because I try so hard to not use death as a manipulation tool. I go out of my way to avoid bringing it up. I go out of my way to joke about it to make people more comfortable. I go out of my way to be cool when people make off-handed comments that hurt, because they weren't thinking. I try so hard to not freak people out and to be normal-acting, even when on the inside I'm hurting so very badly. Because using grief to manipulate people, cheapens it. It cheapens my relationship, it cheapens my love, it cheapens everything about this terrible experience that I'm trying to survive. I ask for what I need, not what I want. If I asked for what I wanted I'd be using Nathan's death and I'm not ok with that. I'm barely ok with asking for what I need, lest someone think that it's just something that I want.
It's just... not ok.
Anyway, on to the real reason why I blog tonight:
I'm irritated. Irritated with stories that obviously aren't true and are just made up to manipulate emotions. I'm irritated that these stories don't get facts even close to possible. I mean I know that "Christmas Shoes" is just a bunch of schmaltz but I saw a story today posted on facebook that took "Christmas Shoes" and added a little sister who also died, a drunk driving accident, and a newspaper which is apparently allowed to publish facts like that a family has to decide whether or not to take someone off life support. I mean the original story is just this side of likely. But adding all the other things in there to manipulate emotions... it's really wrong. It's like a Jr. High kid trying to manipulate adults. Really transparent and rather offensive... especially because after all the bs of this made up story, this was the final line.
"Now you have 2 choices: (1) Copy & Paste this on your wall (2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart."
I would like to add a third option. Blog about it as though it totally ticked you off and you can't believe that someone would try and use death as a manipulation device.
It might be that I'm so mad because I try so hard to not use death as a manipulation tool. I go out of my way to avoid bringing it up. I go out of my way to joke about it to make people more comfortable. I go out of my way to be cool when people make off-handed comments that hurt, because they weren't thinking. I try so hard to not freak people out and to be normal-acting, even when on the inside I'm hurting so very badly. Because using grief to manipulate people, cheapens it. It cheapens my relationship, it cheapens my love, it cheapens everything about this terrible experience that I'm trying to survive. I ask for what I need, not what I want. If I asked for what I wanted I'd be using Nathan's death and I'm not ok with that. I'm barely ok with asking for what I need, lest someone think that it's just something that I want.
It's just... not ok.
Monday, September 26, 2011
I'm a hit. Not the public. I tell television what to play, yo
Do you ever go to urban dictionary and look up your name? It's kinda amusing.
At long last, someone who has heard about how garlic bread is responsible for faking the moon landing!
Also amusing? Looking up search terms that lead to my blog. For instance: "girls who look like violet" and "it was a boy and a girl and became rainbow" or the classic search phrase: "i'm a hit. not the public. i tell television what to play, yo." Believe it or not that particular phrase had 2 hits... that means someone searched it twice... or they forgot that they clicked on the link to my blog once and clicked the link again. I somehow think that one of those scenarios is more likely.
I mean I can't even remember how many times have I searched that phrase, you know?
I've been reading more people's blogs, lately... I've been caring about people other than myself. I kinda feel like I'm coming out of something- some phase of grief-- like I'm engaging in life a little bit more... Of course, to go along with that, my brain is letting me feel a little bit more than it did, so the tears and feelings of loneliness have been more... I've been by myself a lot more than I used to let myself be. But the hurt feels like healing, you know? That sore-ness that means your body is getting exercise and stretching it's muscles out? It hurts, but... it's good, too.
I think half the time I get through by thinking it was all just a lovely dream. Someone couldn't have loved me that much. Because if it was real it would still be here. And sometimes I'm caught off guard by the realization that it was real. Those eyes were here. That laugh was mine. That goofy playful grin that he got when we just started repeating the same things over and over... that was for me.
It's completely selfish, but I wish that God could have chosen someone else to be a good example.
| Renée | ||
A French name meaning "rebirth".
Renee is of the most amazing people you will ever meet. She's random and weird, and most likely somewhat insecure, in addition to being outspoken, fiercely loyal to her friends, very sexual, very beautiful inside and out, open minded, mean at times, dedicated to music, and impulsive. She can be a hypocrite, but often owns up to it rather than denying it. She may not always use her head and tends to make excuses for the people she cares about.
ex:
Jeff: Who's the hot girl over there who's rambling about garlic bread's role in government conspiracies?
Tom: Oh, that's Renée. She's pretty weird, but she's really cool. | ||
At long last, someone who has heard about how garlic bread is responsible for faking the moon landing!
Also amusing? Looking up search terms that lead to my blog. For instance: "girls who look like violet" and "it was a boy and a girl and became rainbow" or the classic search phrase: "i'm a hit. not the public. i tell television what to play, yo." Believe it or not that particular phrase had 2 hits... that means someone searched it twice... or they forgot that they clicked on the link to my blog once and clicked the link again. I somehow think that one of those scenarios is more likely.
I mean I can't even remember how many times have I searched that phrase, you know?
I've been reading more people's blogs, lately... I've been caring about people other than myself. I kinda feel like I'm coming out of something- some phase of grief-- like I'm engaging in life a little bit more... Of course, to go along with that, my brain is letting me feel a little bit more than it did, so the tears and feelings of loneliness have been more... I've been by myself a lot more than I used to let myself be. But the hurt feels like healing, you know? That sore-ness that means your body is getting exercise and stretching it's muscles out? It hurts, but... it's good, too.
I think half the time I get through by thinking it was all just a lovely dream. Someone couldn't have loved me that much. Because if it was real it would still be here. And sometimes I'm caught off guard by the realization that it was real. Those eyes were here. That laugh was mine. That goofy playful grin that he got when we just started repeating the same things over and over... that was for me.
It's completely selfish, but I wish that God could have chosen someone else to be a good example.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Fo' Drizzle
"Once you choose hope, anything's possible." -Christopher Reeve
Found this quote today. I like it... a lot.
Stumbled upon a site for widows/young widows. Been looking through it today/tonight. It's that kind of a day, apparently....
I told you all, that I'm working through Dawson's Creek. I'm on Season 4... and in the midst of a beloved character's funeral. I've been avoiding it for a few days now. To watch someone mourn on a tv show... it's strange... and comforting... and strange.
I mean I'm glad to know I'm not alone, but at the same time, no one is like me... there is always something that's different... There's always a way in which we aren't the same. My grief is both the same and profoundly different from everyone else's.
Here's a Dawson's Creek quote.
"You know, every night for 46 years, I prayed the Good Lord would take me first. I never wanted to go on without him. I didn't think I was capable of it. But somehow, I was. It wasn't easy, but inevitably there comes a day that isn't as bad as the one before it."
I thought I would have to move back home to Memphis... I thought it was the only way I'd be able to deal. You just never know till you're in it.
People have started to talk to me about Nathan's death. Telling me what happened with them when he died. Telling me about times when they are surprised by his death again. Trying to somehow bring me into their lives and how it connects with mine. It's nice... but I don't know what to say or how to respond. Usually I say, "Yeah...."
I'm exceedingly eloquent.
But in other news my hair is a smashing success.
I believe this is what they like to call winning some and losing some. You know, in the biz.
... in the bizzle.
Hey Lissa, Why does Snoop Dogg need an umbrella?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Hello from 4 AM.
I think I might nap in the late afternoon/early evening because that's the loneliest time of day for me. In the morning it's just about getting to work, and at 1or two in the morning it's a lot easier to be up because I'm staying up. But from 5-7 I'm just remembering that I haven't seen anyone today and that I have no one to make dinner plans with and that the world has pretty well moved on with their lives. Seems like a better plan to just sleep through that. Why not sleep when there is no reason to be awake? Especially when one naturally will stay awake till 2 without a nap.
Can you tell I'm missing him a lot today? I realized how much he would have loved my hair... He always had a thing for Violet from The Incredibles.
See the resemblance? Well, even if you don't, I do, and I know Nathan would have loved it. And not just because he liked any hair style that I did.
The roller coaster ride is evening out. The lows don't get so low, and I think that I'm becoming less manic about making sure I have something to fill every second... But I don't think the missing will ever go away. I've started to not know if I did something before or after Nathan's death... and I really hate it. I can't remember if I watched a certain TV show with him or by myself. I can't remember if I talked to him about this certain thing or not. I miss hearing his opinions, his thoughts, his plans. I hate so much the loss of Nathan's potential in this world... He had so much more he could have done... so much more he wanted to do.
I wish the grieving process was something definable. I wish I could pass a mark or do something and be able to check it off a list. I wish it wasn't just a set of ever lengthening milestones that I'll never come to the end of.... I wish I didn't identify so much with this song.
Something tells me I should be sleeping through 4 AM, too.
Can you tell I'm missing him a lot today? I realized how much he would have loved my hair... He always had a thing for Violet from The Incredibles.
See the resemblance? Well, even if you don't, I do, and I know Nathan would have loved it. And not just because he liked any hair style that I did.
The roller coaster ride is evening out. The lows don't get so low, and I think that I'm becoming less manic about making sure I have something to fill every second... But I don't think the missing will ever go away. I've started to not know if I did something before or after Nathan's death... and I really hate it. I can't remember if I watched a certain TV show with him or by myself. I can't remember if I talked to him about this certain thing or not. I miss hearing his opinions, his thoughts, his plans. I hate so much the loss of Nathan's potential in this world... He had so much more he could have done... so much more he wanted to do.
I wish the grieving process was something definable. I wish I could pass a mark or do something and be able to check it off a list. I wish it wasn't just a set of ever lengthening milestones that I'll never come to the end of.... I wish I didn't identify so much with this song.
Something tells me I should be sleeping through 4 AM, too.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Dealing with the days...
Hey there, thanks for being patient. Oh and happy birthday, Katie!! For your patience I give you a super long blog! I was at a church conference and I had no internet connection last night except via phone, and trust me, typing out my blog via phone would not have been possible. Plus I was in a difficult spot last night, so it probably wouldn't have been good anyway. At least good in a positive, uplifting way. I had a rough night, honestly, and after last night I was just spent.
I try not to be preachy on here. I know that people of various beliefs read my blog, and I know that even in Christianity there are some serious divides and some serious emotions/objections when those divides are crossed. So I mainly try to stay in the "God is good" realm... because pretty much all faith systems think that and it's not super offensive to those who operate outside a faith system. But I have some things I feel like I need to share, so you are forewarned. They are my experiences, so you might find them interesting enough, just because you care about me enough to read my blog, or you might not like them. I can't really help it either way. I just have to get out what is buzzing around in my head.
Last night was so hard because I was waiting for something. You know the church camp experience? Where you go to church camp and feel so close to God?... I was looking for that last night at the grown-ups version of church camp. But all I ran into was hurt. I just kept running into my sorrow, seems like everywhere I went to look for God I just found more and more of the pain that I'd bottled up.
So I went up to the front for ministry time... which basically means that I went up to the front to have people pray for me. And that was hard, because I didn't know the people who were praying for me and it just felt like there was so much to explain... and honestly I have a lot of baggage to just set down in front of someone... people don't know how to deal with grief unleashed. It's scary. The first girl to pray for me was my age or maybe a little younger. She was totally sweet and heartbroken for me, and I think also terrified of praying for me. She called her husband over almost immediately. His name was Nathan. And when I told him that was my husband's name I saw that hit him... I don't like to look at people with my broken eyes... feels like they can see too far in. Feels like I'm pushing my grief out at someone else.... like I'm forcing my unhappiness on them, but this couple took that. They just met me in the heartbreak. They didn't try to make it better, they just asked God to help and hugged me, which I needed. And then as Nathan was ending the prayer he said in a strange tone, "It's going to be ok." Which of course just wrecked me, because how often have I mentioned on here how much I want to hear Nathan tell me it's going to be ok? How much more often have I wished for it in my head? This Nathan didn't know he was echoing my Nathan.
Then another woman came up to pray for me. And she was also very nice. I told her less.... just that I was in a lot of emotional pain. I couldn't explain anymore. I didn't have it in me. She prayed for me and gave me some good mental images of God wanting to take my pain and soak it up. She also prayed a great deal for hope for me, which is something that I need... When Nathan died I had a great deal of hope. But over the course of these seven and a half months I've lost a good deal of it. Not faith or knowledge that Nathan is in heaven, but finding the hope left in my life here without him.
Still at the end of that I was drained and frustrated because I didn't feel any closer to God at all... if anything I felt numb. Then one lady who I didn't know came up to me and asked me if I'd heard from God... and I nearly scowled at her.. I'm pretty sure I grimaced. I think I said something to the effect of, "I don't really know." I wanted to say, "Only if God was trying to tell me to be miserable." Five minutes later a friend came up and asked me if prayer was good. I sighed... and said, "Yes....... sorta....." and then I threw up my hands in frustration, "No." (I'm terrible at lying to my friends.)
I felt awful. The church camp experience is supposed to help and I just felt terrible. I felt grumpy and upset and lonely and kinda irritated at God for not showing up like I expected Him to, and for bringing up all these tears but not bringing me a great deal of comfort. Plus I was just emotionally exhausted in a way I've not been since the days following the funeral... I'd cried until I couldn't cry any more. I probably should have stayed up front until I felt better... but I'm kinda a chicken when it comes to being in the front of the church, and I got self-conscious and went back to my seat. So it's probably my fault that I left feeling so drained.... but who knows...
Anyway this morning we had more conference and it was good, but I was still feeling kinda out of it. And when ministry time came I didn't feel any special call and no one supernaturally knew to call my name or someone in my very particular situation, so I stayed where I was. I wasn't emotional at all, I just figured I'd done what I'd done and I needed to change my expectations... and then a friend came up to me with something she'd felt/thought last night and it was so spot on with everything I'd been thinking and feeling last night... and then she said something else that addressed another part of my sadness from the last night... and then in the midst of a prayer for me she practically echoed the words I'd said silently to God in my head last night-The Vineyard calls the sucky parts of this world the "not yet," meaning the kingdom of God is not here in it's fullness, yet. (The parts where the world is going right, where people are mended, their relationships are restored, and life is just *right* is the "already"- meaning the kingdom is already here. If you want a slightly more fleshed out version you can find it here. Yes, there is a Wikipedia article about it! If you want more information, like scripture references, I can give them to ya, but we can have that discussion more personally.) Last night I was complaining to God basically about how very much of the "not yet" I'd seen. These past two years it feels like it's all I've seen, and I said in my head, "God, I've just seen so much of the "not yet." I'm so tired of the "not yet." Can't I see some of your kingdom in my life? Can't I see something going not just alright, but well?"
And this afternoon the my friend prayed, "God, Renée has just seen so much of the "not yet." For years it's been almost all she's seen, and God we just ask that you would give her some of the "already." So much of the "already" to counteract how much "not yet" she has experienced."
All this week I've been feeling like Job... granted Job had it rougher than I do... but... nonetheless I've been upset and having a pity party and saying, "No matter what, I'm not going to turn away from you God... but this sucks and I don't understand why it's happening and I don't like it." In fact, last week when I talked about Job's daughters it was because I'd been reading Job... I didn't read the whole thing... just to chapter 20 or so and then I skimmed to the end. And I fixated on one word in this sentence: "After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before." (Job 42:10). If I tell you my friend prayed that God would "restore my life, dreams, and hopes for the future" would you guess what word it was?
After that another woman came up to me to share something with me that she felt God wanted to tell me last night as well. And she told me that God thinks I'm beautiful. On the outside, but on the inside, too... that God thinks everything about me is beautiful. That's one of the things I miss so much about Nathan... how often he told me I was beautiful.
I had a fresh slew of tears between these two women this morning.... but it felt a lot happier... it felt more cleansing.
Something that the speaker said last night almost as an aside really resonated with me. "Whatever you do with people you do with God. You can't be split down the middle and be different for God and for people." In other words if you are distrustful of people, you will be distrustful of God. If you have father issues with people then you will have them with God. If you are reserved and distant with people, you will be with God, too. (Not that this can't all be changed.) This resonated with me because I recognized it as really true at least with me... I have a fear of abandonment with people. I try to make them need me, so that I will trust they won't leave me. I also have a great deal of pride and don't want to be a burden to other and don't trust them to not resent me if I am a burden somehow. And I want to be exactly what they need, so they will depend on me. I want to be perfect.
Guess what? I do that to God, too. I wouldn't say that I fear God's abandonment... but I don't want to be a burden on God either... I try to be a perfect example of grief. I want to be a good Godly example of how to handle things. I want to bring attention back to God if someone thinks I'm handling it well. In my mind I know that God doesn't need me to be perfect. That he doesn't see me as a burden at all and that he actually doesn't need or want me to be independent because that means I'm not relying on Him. And yet this is my default. And then I get so worn down and tired because choosing joy in the midst of suffering is hella hard, and if you do it right then most people don't know that there is something wrong at all.
I need to change this... just because Nathan is gone, doesn't mean I don't need to lean on anyone at all... and it certainly doesn't mean I should stop leaning on God. I don't have to be perfect in any way. I can come to Him just as I am.. broken, longing for restoration, tired, and lonely. And He'll be there for me... He'll hug me in my heartbreak and give me hope. He'll restore my life and tell me that I'm beautiful. He's proven that over and over and over- not just this weekend. One doesn't need a conference to be reminded that God is good, all the time, but sometimes it helps.
I try not to be preachy on here. I know that people of various beliefs read my blog, and I know that even in Christianity there are some serious divides and some serious emotions/objections when those divides are crossed. So I mainly try to stay in the "God is good" realm... because pretty much all faith systems think that and it's not super offensive to those who operate outside a faith system. But I have some things I feel like I need to share, so you are forewarned. They are my experiences, so you might find them interesting enough, just because you care about me enough to read my blog, or you might not like them. I can't really help it either way. I just have to get out what is buzzing around in my head.
Last night was so hard because I was waiting for something. You know the church camp experience? Where you go to church camp and feel so close to God?... I was looking for that last night at the grown-ups version of church camp. But all I ran into was hurt. I just kept running into my sorrow, seems like everywhere I went to look for God I just found more and more of the pain that I'd bottled up.
So I went up to the front for ministry time... which basically means that I went up to the front to have people pray for me. And that was hard, because I didn't know the people who were praying for me and it just felt like there was so much to explain... and honestly I have a lot of baggage to just set down in front of someone... people don't know how to deal with grief unleashed. It's scary. The first girl to pray for me was my age or maybe a little younger. She was totally sweet and heartbroken for me, and I think also terrified of praying for me. She called her husband over almost immediately. His name was Nathan. And when I told him that was my husband's name I saw that hit him... I don't like to look at people with my broken eyes... feels like they can see too far in. Feels like I'm pushing my grief out at someone else.... like I'm forcing my unhappiness on them, but this couple took that. They just met me in the heartbreak. They didn't try to make it better, they just asked God to help and hugged me, which I needed. And then as Nathan was ending the prayer he said in a strange tone, "It's going to be ok." Which of course just wrecked me, because how often have I mentioned on here how much I want to hear Nathan tell me it's going to be ok? How much more often have I wished for it in my head? This Nathan didn't know he was echoing my Nathan.
Then another woman came up to pray for me. And she was also very nice. I told her less.... just that I was in a lot of emotional pain. I couldn't explain anymore. I didn't have it in me. She prayed for me and gave me some good mental images of God wanting to take my pain and soak it up. She also prayed a great deal for hope for me, which is something that I need... When Nathan died I had a great deal of hope. But over the course of these seven and a half months I've lost a good deal of it. Not faith or knowledge that Nathan is in heaven, but finding the hope left in my life here without him.
Still at the end of that I was drained and frustrated because I didn't feel any closer to God at all... if anything I felt numb. Then one lady who I didn't know came up to me and asked me if I'd heard from God... and I nearly scowled at her.. I'm pretty sure I grimaced. I think I said something to the effect of, "I don't really know." I wanted to say, "Only if God was trying to tell me to be miserable." Five minutes later a friend came up and asked me if prayer was good. I sighed... and said, "Yes....... sorta....." and then I threw up my hands in frustration, "No." (I'm terrible at lying to my friends.)
I felt awful. The church camp experience is supposed to help and I just felt terrible. I felt grumpy and upset and lonely and kinda irritated at God for not showing up like I expected Him to, and for bringing up all these tears but not bringing me a great deal of comfort. Plus I was just emotionally exhausted in a way I've not been since the days following the funeral... I'd cried until I couldn't cry any more. I probably should have stayed up front until I felt better... but I'm kinda a chicken when it comes to being in the front of the church, and I got self-conscious and went back to my seat. So it's probably my fault that I left feeling so drained.... but who knows...
Anyway this morning we had more conference and it was good, but I was still feeling kinda out of it. And when ministry time came I didn't feel any special call and no one supernaturally knew to call my name or someone in my very particular situation, so I stayed where I was. I wasn't emotional at all, I just figured I'd done what I'd done and I needed to change my expectations... and then a friend came up to me with something she'd felt/thought last night and it was so spot on with everything I'd been thinking and feeling last night... and then she said something else that addressed another part of my sadness from the last night... and then in the midst of a prayer for me she practically echoed the words I'd said silently to God in my head last night-The Vineyard calls the sucky parts of this world the "not yet," meaning the kingdom of God is not here in it's fullness, yet. (The parts where the world is going right, where people are mended, their relationships are restored, and life is just *right* is the "already"- meaning the kingdom is already here. If you want a slightly more fleshed out version you can find it here. Yes, there is a Wikipedia article about it! If you want more information, like scripture references, I can give them to ya, but we can have that discussion more personally.) Last night I was complaining to God basically about how very much of the "not yet" I'd seen. These past two years it feels like it's all I've seen, and I said in my head, "God, I've just seen so much of the "not yet." I'm so tired of the "not yet." Can't I see some of your kingdom in my life? Can't I see something going not just alright, but well?"
And this afternoon the my friend prayed, "God, Renée has just seen so much of the "not yet." For years it's been almost all she's seen, and God we just ask that you would give her some of the "already." So much of the "already" to counteract how much "not yet" she has experienced."
All this week I've been feeling like Job... granted Job had it rougher than I do... but... nonetheless I've been upset and having a pity party and saying, "No matter what, I'm not going to turn away from you God... but this sucks and I don't understand why it's happening and I don't like it." In fact, last week when I talked about Job's daughters it was because I'd been reading Job... I didn't read the whole thing... just to chapter 20 or so and then I skimmed to the end. And I fixated on one word in this sentence: "After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before." (Job 42:10). If I tell you my friend prayed that God would "restore my life, dreams, and hopes for the future" would you guess what word it was?
After that another woman came up to me to share something with me that she felt God wanted to tell me last night as well. And she told me that God thinks I'm beautiful. On the outside, but on the inside, too... that God thinks everything about me is beautiful. That's one of the things I miss so much about Nathan... how often he told me I was beautiful.
I had a fresh slew of tears between these two women this morning.... but it felt a lot happier... it felt more cleansing.
Something that the speaker said last night almost as an aside really resonated with me. "Whatever you do with people you do with God. You can't be split down the middle and be different for God and for people." In other words if you are distrustful of people, you will be distrustful of God. If you have father issues with people then you will have them with God. If you are reserved and distant with people, you will be with God, too. (Not that this can't all be changed.) This resonated with me because I recognized it as really true at least with me... I have a fear of abandonment with people. I try to make them need me, so that I will trust they won't leave me. I also have a great deal of pride and don't want to be a burden to other and don't trust them to not resent me if I am a burden somehow. And I want to be exactly what they need, so they will depend on me. I want to be perfect.
Guess what? I do that to God, too. I wouldn't say that I fear God's abandonment... but I don't want to be a burden on God either... I try to be a perfect example of grief. I want to be a good Godly example of how to handle things. I want to bring attention back to God if someone thinks I'm handling it well. In my mind I know that God doesn't need me to be perfect. That he doesn't see me as a burden at all and that he actually doesn't need or want me to be independent because that means I'm not relying on Him. And yet this is my default. And then I get so worn down and tired because choosing joy in the midst of suffering is hella hard, and if you do it right then most people don't know that there is something wrong at all.
I need to change this... just because Nathan is gone, doesn't mean I don't need to lean on anyone at all... and it certainly doesn't mean I should stop leaning on God. I don't have to be perfect in any way. I can come to Him just as I am.. broken, longing for restoration, tired, and lonely. And He'll be there for me... He'll hug me in my heartbreak and give me hope. He'll restore my life and tell me that I'm beautiful. He's proven that over and over and over- not just this weekend. One doesn't need a conference to be reminded that God is good, all the time, but sometimes it helps.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Last Love Letter
It's not really fair, you know. How the movies and television shows always have one last letter from a person who died that someone manages to save for years and years until it comes to light at the exact perfect time... and it's all about how the one who's still living is so amazing, and how sure the one who is gone is that they are amazing, and how much they love them and how much they wish that they were there with them. But what can you expect, really? I mean in the movies there are secret admirers and guys climb up to girl's window at 2:30 in the morning, and make grand gestures of love including standing on the girl's lawn with a boom box over his head.
Things like that don't happen in real life. Real life isn't like the movies. How is it that I'm 28 and just now deciding this? How is it that it took me this long to realize that my life isn't like a movie? That just because something makes cinematic sense, that doesn't mean it is going to happen outside the cinema. That having a "feeling" about something doesn't mean it's foreshadowing, and that the things you root for to happen... sometimes they don't.
There is no letter. There is no declaration of love from beyond the grave. There aren't secret admirers, guys don't climb trees just to talk to a girl, and grand gestures of love aren't nearly so grand.
It's tricksy and false to lead a life so full of drama I suppose... cause then you start to believe that your life is a movie... and it just isn't.
I wrote all that about 2 hours ago... and then I stopped and read the Heaven Is For Real book... Yes, all of it. And I used up 16 tissues.... But I feel a bit less disillusioned and unhappy now... a bit more hopeful.... a bit more like I've gotten a love letter at the exact right time.
This, my friends, is the danger of a girl who reads. A girl who reads can never quite give up hope, because there is always something to turn the tide.
Things like that don't happen in real life. Real life isn't like the movies. How is it that I'm 28 and just now deciding this? How is it that it took me this long to realize that my life isn't like a movie? That just because something makes cinematic sense, that doesn't mean it is going to happen outside the cinema. That having a "feeling" about something doesn't mean it's foreshadowing, and that the things you root for to happen... sometimes they don't.
There is no letter. There is no declaration of love from beyond the grave. There aren't secret admirers, guys don't climb trees just to talk to a girl, and grand gestures of love aren't nearly so grand.
It's tricksy and false to lead a life so full of drama I suppose... cause then you start to believe that your life is a movie... and it just isn't.
I wrote all that about 2 hours ago... and then I stopped and read the Heaven Is For Real book... Yes, all of it. And I used up 16 tissues.... But I feel a bit less disillusioned and unhappy now... a bit more hopeful.... a bit more like I've gotten a love letter at the exact right time.
This, my friends, is the danger of a girl who reads. A girl who reads can never quite give up hope, because there is always something to turn the tide.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
So many familiar faces, in such familiar spaces...
I went to Foster's visitation tonight... I don't think that I will go to the funeral tomorrow... I don't think I could handle it... not without backup. Seeing him in the coffin was so hard. I hate that color.. I *hate* that color. I don't know why it effects me so much, but more than anything else associated with death it is the color that bodies turn. It really gets to me... and it's not right. Not right at all.
Something else I was thinking about at the visitation. Memphis is (for all intents and purposes) my hometown. It's where I went to school and it's where all the community shows were, and it's the gathering place. Arbela and Granger are just names to direct mail or people to get to my house, but Memphis is the hometown. I saw a lot of people there tonight that I knew, or recognized, or grew up with in one way or another. And a great many of those people I hadn't seen in 10 years. Whenever I come home I see my family and whomever is at church that week, but I don't see the people from my home town. I mean I keep up with some of them (you) via facebook and several people have told me that they read my blog, which is so sweet... but we don't hang out face to face and I don't really know who they are anymore.
I think that's the strange thing for me. I grew up with these people. We saw each other nearly every weekday for 13 years. I knew them... and then 10 years went by, and now... I recognize them. I recognize their faces and expressions and their hand gestures and their voices... but I don't know who they are anymore.. and they don't know who I am... It makes me kinda sad actually. I want to catch up with them. I want to get a glimpse into who they turned into... But I'm missing the reunion and as I've discovered I'm just as awkward with people who I knew as I am with people who I don't know. I think I've determined that my new line is going to be something akin to, "Ok here's the thing. I'm extremely interested in your life and what you are doing now, but I'm horrible at asking the right questions, so feel free to share anything you want to. Stories welcome, personal revelations encouraged, feel free to ask any questions that you have if you are better than me at it. I care about you, I just don't know how to show it unless you want me to bake you something."
I've been ruminating on something for a while... It comes from a couple of different places, mainly from blogs. A friend from high school started a blog and the first post was about who he is. And then Blogger Idol's first challenge was to introduce yourself, and then a couple of other people who really only know me from my blog mentioned that, and I realized that I've never done an introduction of myself on here. I just assume that the people who are reading it mainly know me, but I don't think this is always the case... and then tonight I realized that maybe the people who I thought knew me don't really know who I am now... And then I thought, "Heck I'm so non-self aware that maybe even the people who really do know me don't know what I would say about myself." Then again I'm also predictable (or as I like to call it- steady) so maybe they'd be able to guess. Regardless I think that I'm going to get to work on a introduction of myself blog... you know, nearly a year in seems like a good time to write one. :) So maybe you'll get a bonus blog tonight.. we'll see.
Something else I was thinking about at the visitation. Memphis is (for all intents and purposes) my hometown. It's where I went to school and it's where all the community shows were, and it's the gathering place. Arbela and Granger are just names to direct mail or people to get to my house, but Memphis is the hometown. I saw a lot of people there tonight that I knew, or recognized, or grew up with in one way or another. And a great many of those people I hadn't seen in 10 years. Whenever I come home I see my family and whomever is at church that week, but I don't see the people from my home town. I mean I keep up with some of them (you) via facebook and several people have told me that they read my blog, which is so sweet... but we don't hang out face to face and I don't really know who they are anymore.
I think that's the strange thing for me. I grew up with these people. We saw each other nearly every weekday for 13 years. I knew them... and then 10 years went by, and now... I recognize them. I recognize their faces and expressions and their hand gestures and their voices... but I don't know who they are anymore.. and they don't know who I am... It makes me kinda sad actually. I want to catch up with them. I want to get a glimpse into who they turned into... But I'm missing the reunion and as I've discovered I'm just as awkward with people who I knew as I am with people who I don't know. I think I've determined that my new line is going to be something akin to, "Ok here's the thing. I'm extremely interested in your life and what you are doing now, but I'm horrible at asking the right questions, so feel free to share anything you want to. Stories welcome, personal revelations encouraged, feel free to ask any questions that you have if you are better than me at it. I care about you, I just don't know how to show it unless you want me to bake you something."
I've been ruminating on something for a while... It comes from a couple of different places, mainly from blogs. A friend from high school started a blog and the first post was about who he is. And then Blogger Idol's first challenge was to introduce yourself, and then a couple of other people who really only know me from my blog mentioned that, and I realized that I've never done an introduction of myself on here. I just assume that the people who are reading it mainly know me, but I don't think this is always the case... and then tonight I realized that maybe the people who I thought knew me don't really know who I am now... And then I thought, "Heck I'm so non-self aware that maybe even the people who really do know me don't know what I would say about myself." Then again I'm also predictable (or as I like to call it- steady) so maybe they'd be able to guess. Regardless I think that I'm going to get to work on a introduction of myself blog... you know, nearly a year in seems like a good time to write one. :) So maybe you'll get a bonus blog tonight.. we'll see.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Being Free
So part of the reason that I've been so emotional about Nathan stuff lately is that I put together a small party tonight to meet up and tell Nathan stories and memories. It was people from college, from church, from our life before cancer... I was mainly excited about it, but I was also a little nervous. I wanted it to be a happy occasion, but there is some sorrow in there that just can't be avoided. As I put it to Katie. I wanted the sadness to be something we acknowledged, hugged, and told "it's gonna be ok."
Basically, I didn't know how it was going to go, so I was looking forward to it but I was also scared.
I think I'm scared of my grief a lot. I'm scared of what it's going to do to me, of what it's going to do to others, of not being in control any more, but I also know I have to let it out. So it's this delicate balancing act, of finding the right time, circumstances, people, phase of the moon, and condiments. How can you expect me to grieve properly without honey mustard! Ok so the last two might have been an exaggeration...
...but honestly that's what I'm talking about-- that's part of my coping mechanism... I break tension with humor, cause it's the only way I know to get out of the sad and heavy.
My friend, Janis, who lost her mom the other day has been on my mind a lot (she is the last great xanga-er mentioned yesterday.) She wrote a blog that I've been pondering since I read it yesterday. It was beautiful and really brave and honest. She wrote about her experience of her mom's death. About what actually happened... what she thought, what she did. I've been so afraid to share that stuff with anyone. Mainly because I don't know who can handle that information. I do not want to make someone else's grief journey any harder... but the freedom of voice that Janis expressed... I found myself a little covetous, honestly, of that freedom. So tonight I shared a story of Nathan and I's last conversation...
*side note* I noticed something interesting-- when things start to get intense, men lean forward... or at least 20 something men do. Or that was my observation, tonight -- Anyway, all I know is that when I started getting all emotional telling the story nearly all the guys in the room leaned forward, as if they were all about to spring into action to fight for the side of good and right and a tear-free existence. It was actually really interesting to note their reaction and then my reaction to that-- It was strangely comforting for me... made me feel safe and protected. *end side note*
Anyway, back to what I was speaking of in the first place. I've only told Kara the story of the last few days... and his last moments, and that was on the very first night. I've been afraid to tell anyone else my version of the story. Afraid they wouldn't be able to handle it.... afraid they wouldn't want the burden. But I feel like I have to let this go. I have to tell what happened... I think if I'm ever going to get any closure I have to let this go, and embrace the fact that this happened and it's hard, like Janis did. So I'm going to give you a lot of space, and if you don't want to know, or can't handle reading it, please just close the browser. It's heavy and hard and sad and I can't make it any easier without just keeping it all inside still.
Ok, disclaimer over. Space begins.
Basically, I didn't know how it was going to go, so I was looking forward to it but I was also scared.
I think I'm scared of my grief a lot. I'm scared of what it's going to do to me, of what it's going to do to others, of not being in control any more, but I also know I have to let it out. So it's this delicate balancing act, of finding the right time, circumstances, people, phase of the moon, and condiments. How can you expect me to grieve properly without honey mustard! Ok so the last two might have been an exaggeration...
...but honestly that's what I'm talking about-- that's part of my coping mechanism... I break tension with humor, cause it's the only way I know to get out of the sad and heavy.
My friend, Janis, who lost her mom the other day has been on my mind a lot (she is the last great xanga-er mentioned yesterday.) She wrote a blog that I've been pondering since I read it yesterday. It was beautiful and really brave and honest. She wrote about her experience of her mom's death. About what actually happened... what she thought, what she did. I've been so afraid to share that stuff with anyone. Mainly because I don't know who can handle that information. I do not want to make someone else's grief journey any harder... but the freedom of voice that Janis expressed... I found myself a little covetous, honestly, of that freedom. So tonight I shared a story of Nathan and I's last conversation...
*side note* I noticed something interesting-- when things start to get intense, men lean forward... or at least 20 something men do. Or that was my observation, tonight -- Anyway, all I know is that when I started getting all emotional telling the story nearly all the guys in the room leaned forward, as if they were all about to spring into action to fight for the side of good and right and a tear-free existence. It was actually really interesting to note their reaction and then my reaction to that-- It was strangely comforting for me... made me feel safe and protected. *end side note*
Anyway, back to what I was speaking of in the first place. I've only told Kara the story of the last few days... and his last moments, and that was on the very first night. I've been afraid to tell anyone else my version of the story. Afraid they wouldn't be able to handle it.... afraid they wouldn't want the burden. But I feel like I have to let this go. I have to tell what happened... I think if I'm ever going to get any closure I have to let this go, and embrace the fact that this happened and it's hard, like Janis did. So I'm going to give you a lot of space, and if you don't want to know, or can't handle reading it, please just close the browser. It's heavy and hard and sad and I can't make it any easier without just keeping it all inside still.
Ok, disclaimer over. Space begins.
I’d had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach all week… I mentioned it to a couple of friends, and their responses ranged from “try not to worry about it too much” (which was honestly the only thing I could do) to a concern that she tried very hard to hide. Kara knew how in sync with Nathan I’d always been. They put him on the ventilator Wednesday night, and before they did that we were able to talk. I didn’t know that it would be my last talk with him on this side of Earth. He held my hand and asked me what I was thinking… and I said that I thought we needed to do this. He said, “If you think we need to do this, then we will. I don’t care what the doctors or nurses or anyone else says. I trust you and if this is what you think we need to do then we will. And I nodded and I could see that he was scared, but he didn’t talk about that.. He just said. “I love you forever and ever and ever.” And I said, “I love you, too.” And then I left the room and let them put him under and put him on the breathing machine.
That night he kept fighting off the sedation, and waking up just enough to fight the breathing machine. I tried to soothe him and tell him it was ok, but my voice would just make him fight harder cause he would want to open his eyes and look at me. Finally, I just started to stroke his hand or his head when he would wake up and let the nurse talk to him. On Thursday they decided they needed to put him on dialysis. His oxygenation numbers did not improve and he started running a fever. That night the doctor sat me down and talked about how serious things were looking. He said the word "death," and that I should probably call in anyone from out of town who needed to be here. It was about 11 o’clock… I called Rhonda, my sister, and she and her husband drove to the hospital that night. They got into town at about 3 in the morning and I greeted them but went back to the room to be with Nathan and they dozed in the waiting room. In the morning, my parents showed up... I’d told them not to, but they came anyway, and I’m so glad they came when they did. I went and slept my “shift” and returned to the hospital. I sat with Nathan and several other members of my family came to the hospital for the day to see him and me, so the afternoon passed…
That night he kept fighting off the sedation, and waking up just enough to fight the breathing machine. I tried to soothe him and tell him it was ok, but my voice would just make him fight harder cause he would want to open his eyes and look at me. Finally, I just started to stroke his hand or his head when he would wake up and let the nurse talk to him. On Thursday they decided they needed to put him on dialysis. His oxygenation numbers did not improve and he started running a fever. That night the doctor sat me down and talked about how serious things were looking. He said the word "death," and that I should probably call in anyone from out of town who needed to be here. It was about 11 o’clock… I called Rhonda, my sister, and she and her husband drove to the hospital that night. They got into town at about 3 in the morning and I greeted them but went back to the room to be with Nathan and they dozed in the waiting room. In the morning, my parents showed up... I’d told them not to, but they came anyway, and I’m so glad they came when they did. I went and slept my “shift” and returned to the hospital. I sat with Nathan and several other members of my family came to the hospital for the day to see him and me, so the afternoon passed…
We ate dinner during the hours we couldn’t be in the ICU, and then my family went to the place they were staying to catch some of the sleep they’d missed the night before… at 8 PM I went back to the room with Nathan… his numbers were still slowly dropping… I spent the early part of the night distracting myself by talking to friends… and trying not to watch his numbers drop and drop and drop, and then at three, just as the last friend signed off for the night, the dr. came back in… and said that they needed to switch him to a different breathing machine, because this wasn’t working well enough… and that I needed to call his parents and anyone else who needed to be here. So at 3:30, I called everyone to come back to the hospital. They switched him to an oscillator… but it didn’t change anything… his numbers continued to drop…down to the numbers that I was fairly certain meant brain damage… and lower… and I had to leave the room because the oscillator shook him so much and I couldn’t keep watching those numbers drop and drop and drop… At five we had a conference with the dr. and told him to tell us when he thought that we needed to stop. And I fell asleep for a while as the sun started to rise.
At around 8AM the dr. came in and told us that it wasn’t working, that in his opinion Nathan was already gone and so we decided to stop the oscillator… They came and brought us to the room at around 8:20… and then just a few minutes before 8:30 they let us into the room to be with him… His oxygen numbers were in the 50’s at that point but then they took all the monitors off him, so that he would be comfortable… and I held his left hand and his mom held his right hand with his dad, my parents, sister and brother in law all around us… and a few puffs of breath escaped his lips… but he didn’t breathe in... and I told him how very much I loved him… and how very much I was going to miss him… and I moved the hospital gown so I could stroke the skin of his shoulder…and I watched as he turned the wrong color and I cried with my sister’s arm around my waist as his heart slowed and slowed and stopped… 8:30 AM. January 29, 2011. That day was beautiful… it was 70 degrees outside. By the next Tuesday we were under a blizzard warning that made us reschedule the visitation, and prevented most of my family from being able to attend the funeral. We buried him the next Friday in Ft. Smith Arkansas… It snowed then, too.
I'm just going to imagine that you are all leaning forward, now, trying to make me feel safe and protected. Thanks for leaning forward. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being there for me. Just thanks.
Friday, May 20, 2011
In a land far away...
Once upon a time I wrote a blog... only everyone wrote a blog back then and we called that blog xanga. And it was a lot of fun. And then that school year ended, and some people got mad about something no one remembers now, and then homework started getting harder and then we stopped posting very frequently... and then not at all for months and months if not years. And now, one of the last great xanga-ers is probably going to hang up her xanga, so I got a little sentimental and went back to mine... Yes, It's still there. I was surprised, too. If you want to see it, go to http://shinywhite.xanga.com/weblog/ I actually posted on my xanga in the weeks following Nathan's diagnosis... I didn't remember that. So much is a blur. A little less than a month after his diagnosis I wrote this:
"I just want him home.... I want him smiling and playing too many computer and video games.... I want him being completely goofy just to make me laugh... I want to snuggle up against him when it gets cold and for him to complain about how much I screw up the covers when I sleep... I just want normal back sooo much."
I feel like that was written so long ago... It was almost exactly a year and a half ago. I read it and I think about how young and naive I sound... and then I think that I wasn't sounding naive... I just didn't know what was coming. And I'm so glad, cause I don't think I would have stopped crying, then, and that would have been such a waste of his time.
I started to read the blog of a guy who was going through ALL who died earlier this week. I read a blog post and a half before I started shaking and saying (outloud to myself), "I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this." The things he wrote took me back to Barnes... to the blood count charts... to all the fear and hope and desperation and waiting, and I just couldn't. I just couldn't. I said on Facebook that it's like post traumatic stress disorder.... I don't know enough about that disorder to say that it is for sure... and I don't at all mean to cheapen it for those people who are experiencing the diagnosed condition... but there should be a condition for recovering caretakers... something to explain to others... to ourselves why specific medical terminology can trigger flashbacks, shortness of breath, and tears.
oh yeah-- there is a condition- grief.
"I just want him home.... I want him smiling and playing too many computer and video games.... I want him being completely goofy just to make me laugh... I want to snuggle up against him when it gets cold and for him to complain about how much I screw up the covers when I sleep... I just want normal back sooo much."
I feel like that was written so long ago... It was almost exactly a year and a half ago. I read it and I think about how young and naive I sound... and then I think that I wasn't sounding naive... I just didn't know what was coming. And I'm so glad, cause I don't think I would have stopped crying, then, and that would have been such a waste of his time.
I started to read the blog of a guy who was going through ALL who died earlier this week. I read a blog post and a half before I started shaking and saying (outloud to myself), "I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this." The things he wrote took me back to Barnes... to the blood count charts... to all the fear and hope and desperation and waiting, and I just couldn't. I just couldn't. I said on Facebook that it's like post traumatic stress disorder.... I don't know enough about that disorder to say that it is for sure... and I don't at all mean to cheapen it for those people who are experiencing the diagnosed condition... but there should be a condition for recovering caretakers... something to explain to others... to ourselves why specific medical terminology can trigger flashbacks, shortness of breath, and tears.
oh yeah-- there is a condition- grief.
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