Dear Family and Friends,
"How are you doing?" you ask. I answer, "I'm OK.” That is pretty much my standard answer. OK is an all purpose expression that depending on voice tone can have meanings ranging from the enthusiastic (OK! let’s do this!) to the unenthusiastic “meh” (How was the party? It was … OK). The context also modifies the meaning and in the context of Carol’s passing you are wanting to know about my well being, if I’m handling things and getting on with life. So when I answer “I’m OK.” it could mean “acceptable” in contrast to “bad.” Or it could mean “mediocre” in contrast to “good.” You walk away thinking my current well being is not all bad but it is not all great. It must be somewhere in between. Sometimes, that is what I mean. Life goes on. But when I take the time to think about the important things, not just the ups and downs of life, the answer is much longer. It’s more like, “I’m where I’m supposed to be.” “Really?” you ask. “OK, here is the long explanation.”
It was necessary to summarize the years of 2016 and 2017 in the previous posts as they provide the background and context for what follows. Another meaning of OK is “agreement” (“That is OK with me.”) or “assent” (“The mother gave her the OK to go to the game.”) Sometimes I use OK as in giving myself permission, as in “It’s OK to not be used to it yet.”
There are feelings and behaviors that are there because they are a part of my tacit experience with Carol. There are so many things we did together that were understood without being directly stated. For example, I knew I had Carol’s tacit approval to invite friends over for a card game. I had come to tacitly know what would please or displease Carol. Now that she is not here, the tacit behavior takes a long time to find a new normal. So, sometimes my best answer is, “I’m not used to it yet, and that’s OK.” For example, in late February, early March, my daughter Kelly and I drove Carol’s car from California to North Carolina for my grandson to use while in the Army. After returning home, I was experiencing sad, uneasy feelings because I tacitly knew Carol would have enjoyed the road trip. I knew how much her presence, pleasure, joy, comments and interactions would have contributed to everyone’s enjoyment of the trip. It was a great trip but I missed her interactions with the people we visited. I missed what I tacitly knew it could have been. That is OK, my feelings and behaviors are adjusting to a new normal. It will take some time as new experiences replace the old ones.
Another way I give myself permission is to periodically review my story. Beginning in June of 2015 I began recording three things for which I am grateful in a journal. I do this about twice a week. Once in a while I will page back through the journal and reflect …. that first year, I am amazed at the care and touches of family and friends …. how insecure I was as indicated by what I was grateful for. Page after page I see my writing slowly changing to confidence in God’s provision and care for me. I can see my grief over Carol’s death is shifting just enough that I’m wanting to feel back to normal. Reviewing my gratitude journal helps me see a bigger picture of my story. More importantly, it tells me it takes time to take it all in. This journey doesn’t happen in a day. Everything— the grief, friends presence, a family’s care, God’s presence, assurances from His Word, the green grass, birds singing, blue sky, a fresh breeze reminds me of Deuteronomy 2:7 where Moses is reminding the children of Israel, “Surely the LORD your God has blessed you in all your undertakings, he knows your going through this great wilderness. These forty years the LORD your God has been with you; you have lacked nothing.” Reviewing my story reminds me I’m OK. I’m where I’m supposed to be in this journey.
But there is more. When I say, I’m OK, it is not just giving myself permission to “not be used to it yet” and reminding myself “I’m where I’m supposed to be” in this journey. There is a weekly and daily component to being OK. Our daily lives are a mixture of good times as well as bad. There are times that seem long and pointless. Times when I’m tempted to lose hope. When will this be over? Occasional times of loneliness, fear and anxiety. So what does one do? There are two authors that have given me perspective on both the good and bad times. Their words are better than mine to help explain.
Tish Harrison Warren in her book, Liturgy of the Ordinary is helping me learn to live in the present. She talks about the reality that we do not control time in the chapter titled, “Sitting in Traffic.”
“Christians are people who wait. We live in liminal time, in the already and not yet.
Christ has come, and he will come again. We dwell in the meantime. We wait.
…
Waiting, therefore, is an act of faith in that it is oriented toward the future.
Yet our assurance of hope is rooted in the past, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth
and in his promises and resurrection. In this way, waiting, like time itself,
centers on Christ—the fulcrum of time.
…
In waiting God has … sown … things that only grow with time—
with changing seasons and bated breath.
…
The future orientation of Christian time reminds us that we are people on the way.
It allows us to live in the present as an alternative people, patiently waiting for what is to come,
but never giving up on our telos. We are never quite comfortable. We seek justice,
practice mercy, and herald the kingdom to come…
God is redeeming all things, and our lives—even our days—are part of that redemption.” 1
Being OK is learning to live in the present with hope. The other side of that coin is learning to relax in God’s care.
J. Todd Billings in his book, Rejoicing in Lament, says,
“I don’t have faith in faith; I have faith in God and his promises. As Jesus says in John 3:3,
’No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above’—we can’t even ’see’
the kingdom apart from the work of the Spirit. We don’t deserve credit for this ‘seeing.’
We don’t trust in our own sight of faith. We trust in God. … We don’t hope in hope.
We hope in a God who can make dry bones of hopelessness live again (Ezek 37)—
the God who raised Jesus Christ from the dead can surely resurrect my hope from the ashes,
for we have something better to trust in than ourselves, better than our own heroic ‘faith.’
We have a God who does not forsake his work in us because it is, after all, his work
and his covenantal promise to be our God.” 2
I’m OK because God hasn’t given up on me. Relax George, your present and future doesn’t depend on you. It is His work in me in His time. Being OK in the daily ups and downs has to do with being secure in the present and the future. I’m slowly getting there.
"How are you doing?" you ask. I answer,
“Well …
2016 - was a time of sadness. A time to be silent and listen.
2017 - was a time of waking up. A shifting of focus. A new way of seeing.
Learning a new definition of self as time passed.
2018 - is becoming a time of assurance. I’m learning God hasn’t given up on me.
I’m sensing that God is writing the rest of my story… learning to relax and allow Him to put the pieces together …
Oh, you want the short answer. I’m OK.”
But as for me, my prayer is to you O LORD.
At an acceptable time, O God,
in the abundance of your steadfast love, answer me.
Psalm 69:13
But I trust in you, LORD;
I say, “You are my God.”
My times are in your hands;
Psalm 31:14,15a
Writing is good therapy for me. Thanks for listening. Grace to you …. George
1 Tish Harrison Warren (2016) Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred practices in everyday life, InterVarsity Press
2 J. Todd Billings, (2015) Rejoicing in Lament: Wrestling with Incurable Cancer and Life in Christ, Brazos Press
Monday, June 25, 2018
Sunday, June 10, 2018
The interim time - part 2
Dear Family and Friends,
I know, the previous post was a downer.
“Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.”
— C.S. Lewis in The Silver Chair 1
2017 was a year of very slowly shifting focus. Don’t get too excited. There were no big changes. It was very slow, almost imperceptible. But there was a shifting of perspective, of seeing. It is difficult to articulate because there are no illustrations to say, “It is like this.” But there were a few events that provide some insight. So here goes, I’ll try to explain.
The beginning of the shifting focus was, well …. It was not acceptance. It was not getting over it. It was not coming to terms with her death. It was sort of like waking up or being startled by someones presence. It actually began in early 2016 while reading Max Lucado’s book, Glory Days.2 Max was recounting God talking to Joshua and saying, “Moses is dead. Now arise and ….” I was startled. It was as if God said to me, “Carol is dead. Now arise and … “ It was one of those, “Are you speaking to me?” moments. It was an activation of my awareness to start looking for God’s guidance in the future. It didn’t change anything and nothing seemed to happen for the rest of the year. I was just more alert.
In February of 2017 I was once again startled. Imagine you are having a conversation with a friend. The conversation goes back and forth until you both come to the point where you agree you understand each other on some point. You both respond, “Yes, that is what I mean.” This event was sort of like that. My Bible reading that day was in Psalm 25:1. “In you, LORD my God, I put my trust.” I imagine, like me, our Bible reading is mainly on the intellectual level. I understand it intellectually. This was David talking to God and that is the end of it. This time it was a very personal conversation. I was having a conversation with God and God was telling me, “That’s right. That is exactly what you are supposed to do.” And I was responding, “That is exactly what I want to do. Put my trust in You.” We had come to agreement. It was a shift from reading to coming to an understanding with God. It is hard to describe. But there it was. A whole different experience of waking up.
The third example takes some explaining. I’ve written before about being "on guard" in my interactions with people especially the few months after Carol’s passing. It was important to be alert to situations in which I might become emotional, tear up. It could happen quickly and blindside me. So I would avoid situations where I might lose it and I would check myself to see if I was emotionally handling the current situation. After a couple of years, being “on guard” fades into the background and so I was surprised by how unprepared I was for a similar yet different event. In March of 2017 we took my grandson to the hotel where he was to catch a bus as he was entering the army. The feelings of him disappearing from my life were so familiar… the same that I have for Carol being gone. Even after two and a half years, I didn’t realize how close those feelings were to the surface. All of us as family were grieving, but this time there was something different. There was one whose grief was greater than mine. I saw a mother’s loss. She too, was bearing another loss. I became aware of yet another facet of waking up. Grief gives you insight, a new way of seeing and sharing. No words are needed, only presence and hugs. We are connected in our grieving.
So 2017 was a year of waking up. My intellectual understanding of grieving together, prayer and God’s presence took on new meanings for which I have no words. Perhaps It is best expressed in this portion of Gwen Flowers’ poem titled, Grief. 3
“ …
There is absorption.
Adjustment.
Acceptance.
And grief is not something you complete,
But rather, you endure.
Grief is not a task to finish
And move on,
But an element of yourself-
An alteration of your being.
A new way of seeing.
A new definition of self.”
So 2017 was a year of waking up, new ways of seeing, an alteration of my being. In my next post I will finally try to answer the question, “So George, how are you doing?”
… George
1 C. S. Lewis, reprint edition (2002) The Silver Chair, HarperCollins
2 Max Lucado, (2017) Glory Days: Trusting the God Who Fights for You, Thomas Nelson
3 Gwen Flowers, (2015) Grief, https://www.all-greatquotes.com/i-had-my-own-idea-of-grief-i-thought-it-was-the-sad-time-that-followed/
I know, the previous post was a downer.
“Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.”
— C.S. Lewis in The Silver Chair 1
2017 was a year of very slowly shifting focus. Don’t get too excited. There were no big changes. It was very slow, almost imperceptible. But there was a shifting of perspective, of seeing. It is difficult to articulate because there are no illustrations to say, “It is like this.” But there were a few events that provide some insight. So here goes, I’ll try to explain.
The beginning of the shifting focus was, well …. It was not acceptance. It was not getting over it. It was not coming to terms with her death. It was sort of like waking up or being startled by someones presence. It actually began in early 2016 while reading Max Lucado’s book, Glory Days.2 Max was recounting God talking to Joshua and saying, “Moses is dead. Now arise and ….” I was startled. It was as if God said to me, “Carol is dead. Now arise and … “ It was one of those, “Are you speaking to me?” moments. It was an activation of my awareness to start looking for God’s guidance in the future. It didn’t change anything and nothing seemed to happen for the rest of the year. I was just more alert.
In February of 2017 I was once again startled. Imagine you are having a conversation with a friend. The conversation goes back and forth until you both come to the point where you agree you understand each other on some point. You both respond, “Yes, that is what I mean.” This event was sort of like that. My Bible reading that day was in Psalm 25:1. “In you, LORD my God, I put my trust.” I imagine, like me, our Bible reading is mainly on the intellectual level. I understand it intellectually. This was David talking to God and that is the end of it. This time it was a very personal conversation. I was having a conversation with God and God was telling me, “That’s right. That is exactly what you are supposed to do.” And I was responding, “That is exactly what I want to do. Put my trust in You.” We had come to agreement. It was a shift from reading to coming to an understanding with God. It is hard to describe. But there it was. A whole different experience of waking up.
The third example takes some explaining. I’ve written before about being "on guard" in my interactions with people especially the few months after Carol’s passing. It was important to be alert to situations in which I might become emotional, tear up. It could happen quickly and blindside me. So I would avoid situations where I might lose it and I would check myself to see if I was emotionally handling the current situation. After a couple of years, being “on guard” fades into the background and so I was surprised by how unprepared I was for a similar yet different event. In March of 2017 we took my grandson to the hotel where he was to catch a bus as he was entering the army. The feelings of him disappearing from my life were so familiar… the same that I have for Carol being gone. Even after two and a half years, I didn’t realize how close those feelings were to the surface. All of us as family were grieving, but this time there was something different. There was one whose grief was greater than mine. I saw a mother’s loss. She too, was bearing another loss. I became aware of yet another facet of waking up. Grief gives you insight, a new way of seeing and sharing. No words are needed, only presence and hugs. We are connected in our grieving.
So 2017 was a year of waking up. My intellectual understanding of grieving together, prayer and God’s presence took on new meanings for which I have no words. Perhaps It is best expressed in this portion of Gwen Flowers’ poem titled, Grief. 3
“ …
There is absorption.
Adjustment.
Acceptance.
And grief is not something you complete,
But rather, you endure.
Grief is not a task to finish
And move on,
But an element of yourself-
An alteration of your being.
A new way of seeing.
A new definition of self.”
So 2017 was a year of waking up, new ways of seeing, an alteration of my being. In my next post I will finally try to answer the question, “So George, how are you doing?”
… George
1 C. S. Lewis, reprint edition (2002) The Silver Chair, HarperCollins
2 Max Lucado, (2017) Glory Days: Trusting the God Who Fights for You, Thomas Nelson
3 Gwen Flowers, (2015) Grief, https://www.all-greatquotes.com/i-had-my-own-idea-of-grief-i-thought-it-was-the-sad-time-that-followed/
Sunday, May 27, 2018
The interim time - part 1
Dear Family and Friends,
It has been over two years since I have written and shared how I’m doing. You have all been polite and haven’t asked. I figure it is time I try to put it in words. So this writing will be about the year 2016. I will follow up with one for 2017.
During 2016 I don’t know how many times I said, “Oh Carol, I wish you were here.” I would say it to myself. I was surprised by how much humor and joy was gone when she was not here. It was definitely not as much fun. I missed those interactions with her. When people would ask how I was doing, the usual answer was, “I’m OK.” I actually didn’t know how to answer the question.
But the truth was, there were times I was not OK. 2016 was a difficult year for me. I know many of you have traveled a similar path. Each path is unique and I was learning about loneliness and absence and how one tries to get on with life. As I look back over that year, my attempts at getting on with life had not seemed to be successful. I seemed to be at the same place I was at the end of 2015. In general, 2016 was an “interim” time, a time of not much progress or movement.
But neither was it all dark. God was faithful and encouraged me through a friend who makes lunch appointments with me every couple of weeks. Another who calls me regularly, every week or so. There were card games with friends and family. There were refreshing trips to visit family in Wyoming and Arizona. There was the distraction and comfort of a church small group and the fellowship of the men in Celebrate Recovery.
And God brought books across my path that were what I needed at the time. Here are three quotes as examples. When I didn’t know how to express how it feels, there was N. T. Wright in Lent For Everyone saying, “…darkness has descended and there is nothing to make you think, ‘It will be all right.’ It won’t. It can’t be. The worst has occurred and nothing will ever be the same. That’s how it feels.” 1
When I was trying to connect the dots and think about what’s next, there was J. Todd Billings in Rejoicing in Lament saying, “Our story is not endless. Our story is not full of limitless possibilities. It has a shape— and we are not, in fact, the author of the story. We are finite creatures, not creators who know no limits. We live in the story, and while we can act in genuine freedom, we are not the master of a choose-your-own-adventure novel…. 'It’s not your job to fashion your own success as if you were God. It’s not your job to write the last chapter of your life. It’s not your job to tie up the loose ends. It’s not your job to make sense of everything. Your life is hid with Christ in God: Let it be your highest act of faith and faithfulness to leave it there! Leave the ambiguity of discipleship at the cross. Let God gather up the fragments. Let God finish the story.' 2 ” 3
And when I thought I ought to sit down and write about my feelings there was Lore Ferguson Wilbert in “Christianity Today” saying, “But sometimes (not always) the best thing to do is to be silent. To listen. To hear. To experience emotions without immediately finding a place for them. To resist the urge to make a story with a beginning, middle, and end out of our ongoing brokenness and frailty.”
So it was an interim year of emotions and feelings and not being able to express them. It was a time to be silent and listen. When words fail, sometimes music gives it expression. My playlist on Pandora was very melancholy. It was a year of sadness. A song that expresses the year for me is “Bring Him Home” from Les Miserables. If you are familiar with the story it is a prayer by a mother for her boy on the barricades of the French revolution. This version by “The Piano Guys” says musically what I had been feeling that year. It still brings tears to my eyes.
Bring Him Home https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mJ08-pyDLg
So 2016 ended about where I started the year. It just was. It was a time of sadness. A time to be silent and listen. In the next post I will share about 2017.
… George
1 N. T. Wright, (2012) Lent For Everyone: Luke, Year C, Westminster John Knox Press
2 John L. Thompson, “An Exhortation to Martyrdom” (Pasadena, CA: Fuller Theological Seminary, 1997), 4 ppt://documents, fuller.edu/sot/faculty/thompson_john/Exhortation.pdf.
3 J. Todd Billings, (2015) Rejoicing in Lament: Wrestling with Incurable Cancer and Life in Christ, Brazos Press
Friday, December 11, 2015
Why I like choirs...some thoughts for Christmas
I grew up in a church where there were hymnals and the choir and congregation sang four part harmony. In my teen years a parishioner worked with four of us teens to develop a quartet. I sang bass and it was this experience that developed my ear for harmony and the enjoyment of singing with others to create something beautiful.
I’ve had the opportunity to sing in a few choirs over the years. Of course there was the work and discipline of practicing…having the pianist pound out our parts for us. But when it came to performance time you reaped a reward in ways that are hard to describe unless you too have participated in a group performance. The performance itself brings pleasure and joy and as C. S. Lewis says, "are not tacked on to the activity … but are the activity itself in consummation." You are sad when it is over. If only you could return to that state of joy, each of us contributing to the activity.
In Timothy Keller’s book, Prayer, there is a section on how prayer is meant not to be just a private event but a communal event. It goes like this:
“C. S. Lewis argues that it takes a community of people to get to know an individual person. Reflecting on his own friendships, he observed that some aspects of one of his friend’s personality were brought out only through interaction with a second friend. That meant if he lost the second friend, he lost the part of his first friend that was otherwise invisible. ‘By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets.’ 1 If it takes a community to know an ordinary human being, how much more necessary would it be to get to know Jesus alongside others? By praying with friends, you will be able to hear and see facets of Jesus that you have not yet perceived.
That is why, Lewis thinks, that the angels in Isaiah 6 are crying, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’ to one another. Each angel is communicating to all the rest the part of the glory it sees. Knowing the Lord is communal and cumulative, we must pray and praise together. That way ‘the more we share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall all have.’ 2 “ 3
And that is why I like choirs…even better to participate in a choir. The beauty of it is that it scales up so beautifully…the larger the better. I’ve been in gyms and stadiums where everyone was singing and there is nothing like it…think what heaven will be like.
During this Christmas season, when the world seems dark, put on a good set of earphones so you can hear all the parts, and take time to rejoice and sing this song with me and The Vocal Majority Chorus. May this be our prayer. He is our hope.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lev0t3iDBkk
…George
1 C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt, 1960), 61
2 Ibid., 62
3 Timothy Keller, Prayer (New York: Dutton, 2014), 119
I’ve had the opportunity to sing in a few choirs over the years. Of course there was the work and discipline of practicing…having the pianist pound out our parts for us. But when it came to performance time you reaped a reward in ways that are hard to describe unless you too have participated in a group performance. The performance itself brings pleasure and joy and as C. S. Lewis says, "are not tacked on to the activity … but are the activity itself in consummation." You are sad when it is over. If only you could return to that state of joy, each of us contributing to the activity.
In Timothy Keller’s book, Prayer, there is a section on how prayer is meant not to be just a private event but a communal event. It goes like this:
“C. S. Lewis argues that it takes a community of people to get to know an individual person. Reflecting on his own friendships, he observed that some aspects of one of his friend’s personality were brought out only through interaction with a second friend. That meant if he lost the second friend, he lost the part of his first friend that was otherwise invisible. ‘By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets.’ 1 If it takes a community to know an ordinary human being, how much more necessary would it be to get to know Jesus alongside others? By praying with friends, you will be able to hear and see facets of Jesus that you have not yet perceived.
That is why, Lewis thinks, that the angels in Isaiah 6 are crying, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’ to one another. Each angel is communicating to all the rest the part of the glory it sees. Knowing the Lord is communal and cumulative, we must pray and praise together. That way ‘the more we share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall all have.’ 2 “ 3
And that is why I like choirs…even better to participate in a choir. The beauty of it is that it scales up so beautifully…the larger the better. I’ve been in gyms and stadiums where everyone was singing and there is nothing like it…think what heaven will be like.
During this Christmas season, when the world seems dark, put on a good set of earphones so you can hear all the parts, and take time to rejoice and sing this song with me and The Vocal Majority Chorus. May this be our prayer. He is our hope.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lev0t3iDBkk
…George
1 C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt, 1960), 61
2 Ibid., 62
3 Timothy Keller, Prayer (New York: Dutton, 2014), 119
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Becoming Like Little Children
This is the one year anniversary of Carol's passing. I am slowly winding my way through the thinking part of coming to terms with her death. What follows is where I am on this one year marker.
People sometimes say to a grieving person, "so and so is in a far better place." They are well meaning and they want it to be comforting. I am not criticizing here but making an observation. Those words are true but they don't bring comfort, at least not right away. The truth is words don't initially bring comfort, your presence brings comfort. Words come much later. I have thought about that "far better place." Often we think of that far better place in terms of the absence of negative things such as no more pain, sorrow and tears. That is promised in scripture as being true. But scripture also gives indications of positive things that go to the core of our being and purpose that make the trials of this life seem as nothing. For me, those positives are encased the words Joy and Glory. They are difficult to talk about. After all, we are still on this side of the door to heaven and have only experienced them highly filtered through our earthly body and experiences. What would it be like to experience them unfiltered?
I have had two fleeting realizations of that far better place. The first one happened a few minutes after Carol passed away. I had this fleeting realization that Carol now knows what it is to be with God and I don't. Packaged into that sudden realization were all these thoughts: she is home, she knows what she was made to be and do, she knows her place, she can do it, she is experiencing the joy of participating, of being a part of, it is shear joy and glory and wonder all mixed together.
The second realization happened in a church service several months after her passing. The few months before Carol passed away, she could not stand for long periods of time and so would be seated while singing. I would stand next to her and could see her in my peripheral vision, singing with hands raised. I've come to realize that she was practicing for the real thing. Now, several months later I had this fleeting realization that once again, we were both worshiping…Carol in heaven and me in this church service. The contrast between my worship and her worship stunned me. She was really worshiping and I was playing at it. I was worried about how I looked. I wasn't joining in and participating. I was self absorbed. I didn't see the glory in it. Carol was participating in real worship, experiencing God sharing His glory with her. She was accepted, welcomed and taken into the dance…it was glorious.
If there is one word that expressed my experience of Carol it would be "joy." Joy was a characteristic of her being. More than happiness, it was an inner well being that made her eyes shine. On the fireplace mantel of our house in San Jose were ceramic letters spelling joy. We had purchased them in a gift shop in Rocky Mountain National Park back in 1970. They were a constant reminder to me of the joy expressed in Carol's life. Walk around our house and you will find the word "Joy" in surprising places. For example, there is a silver heart inscribed with the word "Joy" on the table next to the couch. You pick it up and it makes a harp-like sound.
"I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete." John 15:11
Jesus said these words before His death. I struggle with the idea of joy and death in the same sentence. But when I think about just the joy part…joy that is complete shines out of a person as the result of being involved in something that is magnificent and beautiful. As a participant you can observe the glory and participate at the same time. The participation includes knowing your role and doing it well, making a unique contribution and being valued for it, and being appreciated and welcomed. The joy of participation wants to make you jump up and down.
Words just don't describe what I am trying to convey. There is a video clip that for me illustrates the joy of participation. It is not quite 5 minutes long. Watch it to the end and notice the faces when possible. The song is about seeing something magnificent. Notice how all are participating…even the audience gives approval as the choir reflects the beauty of what they have seen…enjoy.
http://youtu.be/QmDGntpZC3I
There is nothing quite like participating in something that is bigger than you and that makes joy complete. It is what you were made to do. So, my idea of heaven is where we will participate together and whatever we are doing will bring joy. But wait, there is more! There is the promise of glory made possible by the work of Christ. C. S. Lewis describes it this way in his sermon, "The Weight of Glory."
"It is written that we shall 'stand before' Him…The promise of glory is the promise, almost incredible and only possible by the work of Christ, that some of us, that any of us who really chooses, shall actually survive that examination, shall find approval, shall please God. To please God … to be a real ingredient in the divine happiness … to be loved by God, not merely pitied, but delighted in as an artist delights in his work or a father in a son--it seems impossible, a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain. But it is so."
There are some familiar images that help me understand what Lewis is getting at. One is of a father tossing his son in the air and catching him while the child says, "Do it again, daddy, do it again!" Another image is of a parent praising a child whose looking down at his feet, sheepishly glancing at his parent, toes pointed inward, hands behind his back, twisting from side to side and radiating happiness that he has pleased his parent. Then there is a group of school children that just finished a performance and joyfully looking at their teacher with raised hands and shouting, "We did it!" Most of us have witnessed such moments. These moments of desire, pleasure and joy as Lewis says, "are not tacked on to the activity … but are the activity itself in consummation."
Lewis describes it far better than I and you might like to read the full sermon. It is not an easy read, but it is worth it. I have to read it slowly or out loud to follow his logic. It is 9 pages in length…about half way through you will see where the logic is taking you.
http://www.verber.com/mark/xian/weight-of-glory.pdf
So, being with God, or heaven, is where one is accepted, valued as unique and participates in a significant way. You have a contribution that only you can give and doing that brings shear joy. It will be what you were made to do. Whatever we will be doing in heaven we will be doing it together and every person will be uniquely contributing to the glory of God. The video and Lewis' sermon illustrate it as best I can imagine here on earth…our chief duty is to enjoy God…to do what we were made to do.
"We speak God's wisdom . . . which He predestined before the ages to our glory. . . . 'What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, God has prepared for those who love him.'"
I Corinthians 2:7-9
So those fleeting realizations, this thinking about a far better place, and attempting to express the essence of joy and glory are attempts to uncover those longings and desires for our true home where Carol is experiencing it and we cannot conceive it. So why did I go down this path? Well, I think I think, if Carol is experiencing that for which she was made in such unfiltered joy and glory, then all I can say is, OK, I wouldn't want her to come back to this existence just to relieve my being apart from her. She is in a far better place indeed. It doesn't relieve the ache of missing you Carol…but happy anniversary! In my tears there is the faint hope that someday they will be turned to joy and that I too will be welcomed into that great dance by God Himself. Me too, Lord, me too.
I've gone through my notes and journaling and thought out loud with you as I have tried to think through my grief. I need to take a break from this writing. Maybe there will be more later and if so I will send it out. Thank you so much for listening. Your prayers and comments let me know of your love and tears as well. Thank you.
Someday, may God Himself, the God of peace and joy welcome us all into the great dance. What joy and glory that will be.
…George
People sometimes say to a grieving person, "so and so is in a far better place." They are well meaning and they want it to be comforting. I am not criticizing here but making an observation. Those words are true but they don't bring comfort, at least not right away. The truth is words don't initially bring comfort, your presence brings comfort. Words come much later. I have thought about that "far better place." Often we think of that far better place in terms of the absence of negative things such as no more pain, sorrow and tears. That is promised in scripture as being true. But scripture also gives indications of positive things that go to the core of our being and purpose that make the trials of this life seem as nothing. For me, those positives are encased the words Joy and Glory. They are difficult to talk about. After all, we are still on this side of the door to heaven and have only experienced them highly filtered through our earthly body and experiences. What would it be like to experience them unfiltered?
I have had two fleeting realizations of that far better place. The first one happened a few minutes after Carol passed away. I had this fleeting realization that Carol now knows what it is to be with God and I don't. Packaged into that sudden realization were all these thoughts: she is home, she knows what she was made to be and do, she knows her place, she can do it, she is experiencing the joy of participating, of being a part of, it is shear joy and glory and wonder all mixed together.
The second realization happened in a church service several months after her passing. The few months before Carol passed away, she could not stand for long periods of time and so would be seated while singing. I would stand next to her and could see her in my peripheral vision, singing with hands raised. I've come to realize that she was practicing for the real thing. Now, several months later I had this fleeting realization that once again, we were both worshiping…Carol in heaven and me in this church service. The contrast between my worship and her worship stunned me. She was really worshiping and I was playing at it. I was worried about how I looked. I wasn't joining in and participating. I was self absorbed. I didn't see the glory in it. Carol was participating in real worship, experiencing God sharing His glory with her. She was accepted, welcomed and taken into the dance…it was glorious.
If there is one word that expressed my experience of Carol it would be "joy." Joy was a characteristic of her being. More than happiness, it was an inner well being that made her eyes shine. On the fireplace mantel of our house in San Jose were ceramic letters spelling joy. We had purchased them in a gift shop in Rocky Mountain National Park back in 1970. They were a constant reminder to me of the joy expressed in Carol's life. Walk around our house and you will find the word "Joy" in surprising places. For example, there is a silver heart inscribed with the word "Joy" on the table next to the couch. You pick it up and it makes a harp-like sound.
"I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete." John 15:11
Jesus said these words before His death. I struggle with the idea of joy and death in the same sentence. But when I think about just the joy part…joy that is complete shines out of a person as the result of being involved in something that is magnificent and beautiful. As a participant you can observe the glory and participate at the same time. The participation includes knowing your role and doing it well, making a unique contribution and being valued for it, and being appreciated and welcomed. The joy of participation wants to make you jump up and down.
Words just don't describe what I am trying to convey. There is a video clip that for me illustrates the joy of participation. It is not quite 5 minutes long. Watch it to the end and notice the faces when possible. The song is about seeing something magnificent. Notice how all are participating…even the audience gives approval as the choir reflects the beauty of what they have seen…enjoy.
http://youtu.be/QmDGntpZC3I
There is nothing quite like participating in something that is bigger than you and that makes joy complete. It is what you were made to do. So, my idea of heaven is where we will participate together and whatever we are doing will bring joy. But wait, there is more! There is the promise of glory made possible by the work of Christ. C. S. Lewis describes it this way in his sermon, "The Weight of Glory."
"It is written that we shall 'stand before' Him…The promise of glory is the promise, almost incredible and only possible by the work of Christ, that some of us, that any of us who really chooses, shall actually survive that examination, shall find approval, shall please God. To please God … to be a real ingredient in the divine happiness … to be loved by God, not merely pitied, but delighted in as an artist delights in his work or a father in a son--it seems impossible, a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain. But it is so."
There are some familiar images that help me understand what Lewis is getting at. One is of a father tossing his son in the air and catching him while the child says, "Do it again, daddy, do it again!" Another image is of a parent praising a child whose looking down at his feet, sheepishly glancing at his parent, toes pointed inward, hands behind his back, twisting from side to side and radiating happiness that he has pleased his parent. Then there is a group of school children that just finished a performance and joyfully looking at their teacher with raised hands and shouting, "We did it!" Most of us have witnessed such moments. These moments of desire, pleasure and joy as Lewis says, "are not tacked on to the activity … but are the activity itself in consummation."
Lewis describes it far better than I and you might like to read the full sermon. It is not an easy read, but it is worth it. I have to read it slowly or out loud to follow his logic. It is 9 pages in length…about half way through you will see where the logic is taking you.
http://www.verber.com/mark/xian/weight-of-glory.pdf
So, being with God, or heaven, is where one is accepted, valued as unique and participates in a significant way. You have a contribution that only you can give and doing that brings shear joy. It will be what you were made to do. Whatever we will be doing in heaven we will be doing it together and every person will be uniquely contributing to the glory of God. The video and Lewis' sermon illustrate it as best I can imagine here on earth…our chief duty is to enjoy God…to do what we were made to do.
"We speak God's wisdom . . . which He predestined before the ages to our glory. . . . 'What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, God has prepared for those who love him.'"
I Corinthians 2:7-9
So those fleeting realizations, this thinking about a far better place, and attempting to express the essence of joy and glory are attempts to uncover those longings and desires for our true home where Carol is experiencing it and we cannot conceive it. So why did I go down this path? Well, I think I think, if Carol is experiencing that for which she was made in such unfiltered joy and glory, then all I can say is, OK, I wouldn't want her to come back to this existence just to relieve my being apart from her. She is in a far better place indeed. It doesn't relieve the ache of missing you Carol…but happy anniversary! In my tears there is the faint hope that someday they will be turned to joy and that I too will be welcomed into that great dance by God Himself. Me too, Lord, me too.
I've gone through my notes and journaling and thought out loud with you as I have tried to think through my grief. I need to take a break from this writing. Maybe there will be more later and if so I will send it out. Thank you so much for listening. Your prayers and comments let me know of your love and tears as well. Thank you.
Someday, may God Himself, the God of peace and joy welcome us all into the great dance. What joy and glory that will be.
…George
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Reminders
The winds of March that make my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things remind me of you
...
How strange, how sweet, to find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you so near to me
The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations
Silk stockings thrown aside dance invitations
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you
Rod Stewart singing "These Foolish Things" on "The Great American Songbook" (2002)
Carol liked to listen to the old standards and often listened to this CD.
Dear Family and Friends,
I have spent some time over the past year going through Carol's desk, folders, papers and records…cleaning and organizing. I have a long ways to go to finish the job…maybe one more year. A lot of it is memorabilia that I want to pass on to my children so I have nine large 3-ring binders into which I am attempting to organize the material.
Sorting through this memorabilia has given me a renewed sense of gratitude for how God has guided and protected us. There are reminders of our children's growing up years…certificates, awards, report cards. There are family genealogy records. There are records of Carol's trips during the illness of her mother, the illness of her Dad and their passing. There are reminders of my layoff, the selling of our home and downsizing, the amazing guidance and miracles of provisions, debt free as God guided step by step. There are notes Carol kept dealing with all the medical issues of her last year…appointments, X-rays, insulin instructions, various drug effects and warnings, consent and discharge papers. All these bits and pieces add up to an amazing life where several things really stand out.
First, Carol seriously studied the Bible. There are eight 3-ring binders full of BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) notes and worksheets…written on both sides. It must be a stack of paper at least 12 inches high. There were hours and hours of serious study over many years. When on road trips she often made arrangements to attend BSF classes in cities through which we were traveling.
Carol prayed for people. I found so many prayer lists for people in the BSF and small groups she attended. Prayer was vital to her life. Most likely, she prayed for you. I know she did for me. I've often mentioned how Carol hunkered down with God during the last year of her life….it is now no surprise. She was grounded in the Bible and prayer.
Carol was a reader. In addition to all the books in her bookcase there are pages of book lists, book series, and notes about the plots. She read The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw along with four other books on WWII so she could talk with her dad about his involvement in D-day. She read many book series such as The Walk by Richard Paul Evans, books by Mitch Albom and many mystery authors.
Carol took care of me. She made sure I had books on grace. One of my characteristics is to be a perfectionist that works hard to earn my way into God's good graces. She told me several times that I did not understand grace and gave me books on grace on different occasions. One birthday she gave me, In the Grip of Grace by Max Lucado and wrote in the flyleaf,
"My hope and prayer for you as you read this book
is that you will fully realize the limitless grace that God has bestowed on you,
and that you will never doubt the gift."
What can I say? Carol gave me the gift of grace.
Grieving does something to a person that forces one beyond intellectual understanding. I've heard others mention it and I have found it true for me, that when grieving your core skills and interest in them disappear. I've been a teacher. I developed technical training materials for 35 years. I've taught Bible classes and small groups for most of my life. Intellectually, I know the stories and the gospel message. All of that disappeared for much of this year. I don't have the energy or mental capability to deal with it. Those skills do slowly return but they are very elusive and require way too much mental energy. I don't go there any more. I don't want to return to what was. Yet there are these reminders to which I have a vague recollection. It is like coming out of a fog to something new but I have no idea what that is. The cloud dissipates slowly. Grieving is forcing me to come to terms with grace…to being a "me," not a "we."
On one of my trips to visit my mother this past year we were cleaning out the bunkhouse and came across a bag of Guidepost magazines. Mom wanted to give them to a medical office to put in their waiting room so people could read them. I put the bag in my truck and it ended up in my bedroom next to my bookcase back in California. Months later I was having difficulty going to sleep and needed to change my "going-to-bed" routine. No more TV, no news before bed…instead I decided to read before bed two or three articles from Guideposts and then list three things for which I am grateful in a notebook. I have been at this now for 5 months. I am about to finish the stack, just a couple left.
There have been several articles that were helpful and encouraging but I struggled for awhile with the articles about miraculous healings. Carol's story is not one of physical healing. Where does Carol's story fit in with all these stories I was reading? I came to realize I wasn't thinking straight. Being healed is not the singular proof of God's presence. God's presence is also with those who are not healed, even more so for those who go through suffering. Unfortunately, those stories of God's presence through suffering are not the ones that get published…but I got to see Carol's story up close and personal. God was certainly present.
Thanks Carol, thanks mom…for all the reminders. I am slowly becoming more grateful and aware of God's grace. The reminders are not foolish things but actually wise things. And yes, it still aches when reminded. I wouldn't want it any other way.
In the next post I will describe what is helping me come to terms with it all. Blessings …. George
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Lessons from the Cemetery
My mind still talks to you.
My heart still looks for you.
My soul is not yet convinced you are not coming back.
Dear Family and Friends,
Our family was never in the habit of visiting the graves of family that had gone on before. So it has been a new experience for me. The cemetery where Carol is buried is close, just a couple of minutes away and across the street from the grocery store where I shop. I have found myself dropping by a couple of times a week….just to talk, tell her I miss her.
Carol made a friend at the community church we attended the last couple of years. We always sat in the same section at church. Her friend no longer attends the community church but she regularly leaves a potted plant by Carol's grave marker. I make it a point to care and water the plants she leaves.
Sundays are a good day to visit the cemetery. Many people come by to pay their respects to a loved one. Because of the draught in California the cemetery has stopped watering the grass. The lawns have all died except for a few here and there where the loved ones engineer some way to get water on their loved ones grave. I watched an old gentlemen carefully tend his loved one's grave site, raking it by hand to remove the leaves and twigs. And then carefully watering the flowers and grass. A beautiful site of green and color among the sea of brown.
I don't know what triggers it, but once in a while, not often, I have a vivid memory of watching Carol take her last breaths. In response, my mind just says, "No, no, no, no, no nooooo!" My mind tries to push the memory away. So some of my trips to the cemetery are to convince myself that it really happened…she did die. I stand beside her grave thinking, "OK, it really did happen. There is the grave marker." Strangely, the cemetery has a reality that helps me find my way back into life.
Which brings me to the reality of you, the people in my life. I have written about things that are hard, one of which is going out and being social. That I have to gear up for it. At first, it is hard but it does get better. You may think you don't want to put me through the pain of socializing but there is something that is harder than being social, and that is grieving alone…loneliness is far worse. So never hesitate to invite or drop by for a visit. When we are together there is a sort of tacit understanding between us of recognition that Carol is not here and we miss her, but we are here. We don't need to talk about it. Just being and doing things together is helping me experience the reality of relationships without Carol. You, the living, are helping me find my way back into life.
Another part of finding my way back into life is the slow turning from self focus to other focus. Individualism and self focus is so much a part of our culture. We live in the illusion that we are in control. I so much wanted to fix Carol's situation. I want God to fix my situation. These are not the paths I would have chosen for us. Instead, I saw Carol walk with God, drawing closer and closer. I suspect she wanted to be closer to God than to be fixed. Carol's focus is found in Psalm 104:33, NRSV.
"I will sing to the Lord as long as I live,
I will sing praise to my God while I have being."
May that become true for you and me.
Until next time, grace to you ….. George
My heart still looks for you.
My soul is not yet convinced you are not coming back.
Dear Family and Friends,
Our family was never in the habit of visiting the graves of family that had gone on before. So it has been a new experience for me. The cemetery where Carol is buried is close, just a couple of minutes away and across the street from the grocery store where I shop. I have found myself dropping by a couple of times a week….just to talk, tell her I miss her.
Carol made a friend at the community church we attended the last couple of years. We always sat in the same section at church. Her friend no longer attends the community church but she regularly leaves a potted plant by Carol's grave marker. I make it a point to care and water the plants she leaves.
Sundays are a good day to visit the cemetery. Many people come by to pay their respects to a loved one. Because of the draught in California the cemetery has stopped watering the grass. The lawns have all died except for a few here and there where the loved ones engineer some way to get water on their loved ones grave. I watched an old gentlemen carefully tend his loved one's grave site, raking it by hand to remove the leaves and twigs. And then carefully watering the flowers and grass. A beautiful site of green and color among the sea of brown.
I don't know what triggers it, but once in a while, not often, I have a vivid memory of watching Carol take her last breaths. In response, my mind just says, "No, no, no, no, no nooooo!" My mind tries to push the memory away. So some of my trips to the cemetery are to convince myself that it really happened…she did die. I stand beside her grave thinking, "OK, it really did happen. There is the grave marker." Strangely, the cemetery has a reality that helps me find my way back into life.
Which brings me to the reality of you, the people in my life. I have written about things that are hard, one of which is going out and being social. That I have to gear up for it. At first, it is hard but it does get better. You may think you don't want to put me through the pain of socializing but there is something that is harder than being social, and that is grieving alone…loneliness is far worse. So never hesitate to invite or drop by for a visit. When we are together there is a sort of tacit understanding between us of recognition that Carol is not here and we miss her, but we are here. We don't need to talk about it. Just being and doing things together is helping me experience the reality of relationships without Carol. You, the living, are helping me find my way back into life.
Another part of finding my way back into life is the slow turning from self focus to other focus. Individualism and self focus is so much a part of our culture. We live in the illusion that we are in control. I so much wanted to fix Carol's situation. I want God to fix my situation. These are not the paths I would have chosen for us. Instead, I saw Carol walk with God, drawing closer and closer. I suspect she wanted to be closer to God than to be fixed. Carol's focus is found in Psalm 104:33, NRSV.
"I will sing to the Lord as long as I live,
I will sing praise to my God while I have being."
May that become true for you and me.
Until next time, grace to you ….. George
Friday, October 9, 2015
The Mail Box
Dear Family and Friends,
Carol was the consummate shopper. She was always on the lookout for a gift that someone would enjoy, buy it and save it for the appropriate time. She scoured catalogs for just the right gift. I don't know how many catalogs she subscribed to, but I felt sorry for the mail person. It was not uncommon to receive 2 or 3 catalogs per day. Not long after moving to Gilroy I replaced our mailbox with a larger one. The mail person thanked me. It is taking months and months to get off the mailing lists. I am down to about a catalog per week. Can you imagine how much paper the mail person has carried to our house? Probably a small forest of trees. I know, I am joking, but it was a lot. There are now a few days where I don't get any mail and I have the opposite feeling of being ignored. There is something comforting about receiving mail, even if it is junk mail. At least someone or some program knows you exist.
Which brings me to thinking about our digital existence in the databases of the world. Carol's digital existence is still going on…however in interesting ways. Updating our joint accounts and closing Carol's checking and credit card accounts was straight forward. It took about two days where you met face to face or did it over the phone. So that mail communication stopped very quickly. But canceling her catalog subscriptions is taking months. I have been working on it for about ten months now. It turns out she has several aliases. How they come about is mysterious. In one she picked up my middle initial. In others she is known by her first name or middle name. Each permutation is a unique person in the business world's databases to which they send a catalog. It doesn't seem to matter that they are all to the same address.
There are companies that sell name databases and catalog companies often buy them. So Carol's digital existence has a life of its own as it gets shared, bought and sold. So, canceling catalog subscriptions can be seen as an exercise in futility but her digital existence is slowing fading in the catalog world.
Of course there are other companies using name databases. Carol's magazine subscriptions have expired so now she is getting letters to renew with special rates and credit adjustments. Then there are those looking for donations…"your free gift is enclosed." This is the time of year for changing medical insurance. One day last week Carol received seven offers for healthcare insurance programs. There is an irony in seeing an offer of health insurance addressed to a person that has passed away. Then there are the offers for life insurance, even more irony. A few days ago Carol received an American Express card offer. The tag line on the envelop said, "Your life is about to get even more rewarding." I thought, they don't have a clue.
Yes, our digital existence and the mailbox have an interesting relationship that has a long tail, it fades very slowly. I am surrounded by reminders of Carol and I am slowly getting used to them. I didn't realize how much the mailbox would be one of those reminders. I scan the mail looking for bills or something that may need a response…the rest considered junk mail…half of it addressed to Carol…It would be helpful if the business world could update their databases somehow…sigh.
Once again, thanks for listening. The next post will be titled, Lessons from the Cemetery.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
Carol was the consummate shopper. She was always on the lookout for a gift that someone would enjoy, buy it and save it for the appropriate time. She scoured catalogs for just the right gift. I don't know how many catalogs she subscribed to, but I felt sorry for the mail person. It was not uncommon to receive 2 or 3 catalogs per day. Not long after moving to Gilroy I replaced our mailbox with a larger one. The mail person thanked me. It is taking months and months to get off the mailing lists. I am down to about a catalog per week. Can you imagine how much paper the mail person has carried to our house? Probably a small forest of trees. I know, I am joking, but it was a lot. There are now a few days where I don't get any mail and I have the opposite feeling of being ignored. There is something comforting about receiving mail, even if it is junk mail. At least someone or some program knows you exist.
Which brings me to thinking about our digital existence in the databases of the world. Carol's digital existence is still going on…however in interesting ways. Updating our joint accounts and closing Carol's checking and credit card accounts was straight forward. It took about two days where you met face to face or did it over the phone. So that mail communication stopped very quickly. But canceling her catalog subscriptions is taking months. I have been working on it for about ten months now. It turns out she has several aliases. How they come about is mysterious. In one she picked up my middle initial. In others she is known by her first name or middle name. Each permutation is a unique person in the business world's databases to which they send a catalog. It doesn't seem to matter that they are all to the same address.
There are companies that sell name databases and catalog companies often buy them. So Carol's digital existence has a life of its own as it gets shared, bought and sold. So, canceling catalog subscriptions can be seen as an exercise in futility but her digital existence is slowing fading in the catalog world.
Of course there are other companies using name databases. Carol's magazine subscriptions have expired so now she is getting letters to renew with special rates and credit adjustments. Then there are those looking for donations…"your free gift is enclosed." This is the time of year for changing medical insurance. One day last week Carol received seven offers for healthcare insurance programs. There is an irony in seeing an offer of health insurance addressed to a person that has passed away. Then there are the offers for life insurance, even more irony. A few days ago Carol received an American Express card offer. The tag line on the envelop said, "Your life is about to get even more rewarding." I thought, they don't have a clue.
Yes, our digital existence and the mailbox have an interesting relationship that has a long tail, it fades very slowly. I am surrounded by reminders of Carol and I am slowly getting used to them. I didn't realize how much the mailbox would be one of those reminders. I scan the mail looking for bills or something that may need a response…the rest considered junk mail…half of it addressed to Carol…It would be helpful if the business world could update their databases somehow…sigh.
Once again, thanks for listening. The next post will be titled, Lessons from the Cemetery.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Always Behind
Dear Family and Friends,
"The new future can be long or short…"
- Gigi Gerlach, Oncology nurse writing in Guideposts.
What we want to know is how many years we have after diagnosis but doctors are cautious about estimating for multiple myeloma. Siddhartha Mukherjee in his book, The Emperor of All Maladies, says, "In 1971, about half of those diagnosed with multiple myeloma died within 24 months, the other half died by the tenth year….in 2008, about half…treated with the new drugs will be alive at five years…the other half to be alive well beyond ten years." But what does this mean for me? Do I have a 50 percent chance of living ten years? I can't be 50 percent alive. I am either alive or I am not. How does one think about and process these numbers? Doctors are more open ended. Some patients live decades, no promises but always possible hope.
A multiple myeloma diagnosis means a shortened life span, a narrowed future. There is no cure, but can be managed the doctors say. Myeloma will be the cause of your death. Some people process the diagnosis and numbers and end up focusing on the worst case scenario, others take a more optimistic approach and hope for the best case scenario. Although Carol never said it to me, I am convinced from watching her that after the initial diagnosis and after each setback that followed, she processed the data and came to the same conclusion, "Hmmm…disappointing, but if God is with me, what does it matter? It will be OK."
Not often, but I do spend some time reflecting on the events that led up to Carol's passing. When I do the recurring theme I come up with is that myself, family, friends and medical personnel were always a little bit behind Carol on her journey. Carol was on the road with God and we were following behind.
The Gospels record a specific time when Jesus' focus turned to preparing his disciples for the watershed event of his death and resurrection. The Gospel of Mark says it this way.
"Back on the road, they set out for Jerusalem. Jesus had a head start on them,
and they were following, puzzled and not just a little afraid. He took the Twelve
and began to go over what to expect next. …"
Mark 10:32, 33 The Message version
In a sense, Carol and God were on the road ahead of us and we followed behind "puzzled…and a little afraid." It is their path and so we follow behind.
In the Chronicles of Narnia book The Silver Chair, Jill and Eustace are sent to Narnia to rescue a prince. Aslan the Lion gives Jill four signs that are to guide them on their quest. She is to memorize them and repeat them every night. As the adventure unfolds Jill and Eustace give up repeating the signs and muff seeing them for what they are…yet Aslan watches over them and keeps them on track. There were signs along the way of Carol's journey, but we didn't always see them for what they were.
--The First Sign--
The initial diagnosis was tennis elbow and do physical therapy. Carol followed the physical therapy but it only got worse. So back to the doctor and this time there is an X-ray. It took a while to get feedback on the X-ray results because it was being passed on to other doctors to evaluate. 5 days later Carol has appointments for an MRI and CT scans and appointments with an orthopedic bone surgeon in South San Francisco and a radiation specialist in Santa Clara. It was the radiation specialist that set us down, showed us the scans and told us the overall picture. We now knew the diagnosis but in preparation for the surgery there were two more X-rays taken and each time the elbow was much worse. Some myelomas are slow others are fast. It had only been a few weeks between the X-rays. The sign was, this myeloma is fast and aggressive…but we didn't pick up on the significance at the time.
--The Second Sign--
The blood test numbers from the first chemo regimen were positive but the side effects became unbearable. So, you try a different chemo regimen…more tests. Test numbers are getting worse. There is a tumor in the abdomen, not where myeloma is supposed to be. This sign is recognized. We now know that a bone marrow transplant is not in the future. Instead more radiation and try a different chemo regimen.
There were more signs as the last two months progressed, all pointing to the fact that this was an aggressive cancer. The reality was Carol was experiencing the worst case scenario. Amazingly Carol's attitude was, I don't like this, but God is with me. It was clear from the beginning that Carol's focus was on walking with God on this journey…don't go searching elsewhere, just walk with God. It didn't mean she didn't hope for healing and a good outcome. But after each setback she got back up and walked with God.
While Carol was never in despair as far as we know, what about those of us who were following? Yes there were signs and we didn't always see them for what they were but God was taking us aside and saying watch this, read this, think about this. Looking back now we see ways in which God was preparing us. Here are a few of the items God brought across my path.
In October of 2013, the book, Walking with God through Pain and Suffering by Timothy Keller was published. This book presents the cultural, philosophical and Biblical perspectives and ends with first-person stories of those experiencing pain and suffering. This is a good book, but read it before it happens to you or a loved one. You don't want to read it while in pain or suffering.
In the summer of 2014 I came across a Ted talk by Matthew O'Reilly, an emergency medical technician titled: "Am I dying? The honest answer." It is a little over 5 minutes long and presents a compassionate view we don't often see in the emergency medical world. Here is a link:
http://www.ted.com/talks/matthew_o_reilly_am_i_dying_the_honest_answer
In September of 2014 Soul Keeping by John Ortberg was published. It is a great book on taking care of your soul.
In October when things were going rapidly downhill, the book, Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End by Atul Gawande was published. I highly recommend reading this book. It will help you understand our culture, our views of aging and death and give you tools for dealing with the medical world.
So, there you have it, Carol walked with God on her path and we followed behind. Once again, thanks for listening. In the next post I will share something very different titled, The Mail Box.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
"The new future can be long or short…"
- Gigi Gerlach, Oncology nurse writing in Guideposts.
What we want to know is how many years we have after diagnosis but doctors are cautious about estimating for multiple myeloma. Siddhartha Mukherjee in his book, The Emperor of All Maladies, says, "In 1971, about half of those diagnosed with multiple myeloma died within 24 months, the other half died by the tenth year….in 2008, about half…treated with the new drugs will be alive at five years…the other half to be alive well beyond ten years." But what does this mean for me? Do I have a 50 percent chance of living ten years? I can't be 50 percent alive. I am either alive or I am not. How does one think about and process these numbers? Doctors are more open ended. Some patients live decades, no promises but always possible hope.
A multiple myeloma diagnosis means a shortened life span, a narrowed future. There is no cure, but can be managed the doctors say. Myeloma will be the cause of your death. Some people process the diagnosis and numbers and end up focusing on the worst case scenario, others take a more optimistic approach and hope for the best case scenario. Although Carol never said it to me, I am convinced from watching her that after the initial diagnosis and after each setback that followed, she processed the data and came to the same conclusion, "Hmmm…disappointing, but if God is with me, what does it matter? It will be OK."
Not often, but I do spend some time reflecting on the events that led up to Carol's passing. When I do the recurring theme I come up with is that myself, family, friends and medical personnel were always a little bit behind Carol on her journey. Carol was on the road with God and we were following behind.
The Gospels record a specific time when Jesus' focus turned to preparing his disciples for the watershed event of his death and resurrection. The Gospel of Mark says it this way.
"Back on the road, they set out for Jerusalem. Jesus had a head start on them,
and they were following, puzzled and not just a little afraid. He took the Twelve
and began to go over what to expect next. …"
Mark 10:32, 33 The Message version
In a sense, Carol and God were on the road ahead of us and we followed behind "puzzled…and a little afraid." It is their path and so we follow behind.
In the Chronicles of Narnia book The Silver Chair, Jill and Eustace are sent to Narnia to rescue a prince. Aslan the Lion gives Jill four signs that are to guide them on their quest. She is to memorize them and repeat them every night. As the adventure unfolds Jill and Eustace give up repeating the signs and muff seeing them for what they are…yet Aslan watches over them and keeps them on track. There were signs along the way of Carol's journey, but we didn't always see them for what they were.
--The First Sign--
The initial diagnosis was tennis elbow and do physical therapy. Carol followed the physical therapy but it only got worse. So back to the doctor and this time there is an X-ray. It took a while to get feedback on the X-ray results because it was being passed on to other doctors to evaluate. 5 days later Carol has appointments for an MRI and CT scans and appointments with an orthopedic bone surgeon in South San Francisco and a radiation specialist in Santa Clara. It was the radiation specialist that set us down, showed us the scans and told us the overall picture. We now knew the diagnosis but in preparation for the surgery there were two more X-rays taken and each time the elbow was much worse. Some myelomas are slow others are fast. It had only been a few weeks between the X-rays. The sign was, this myeloma is fast and aggressive…but we didn't pick up on the significance at the time.
--The Second Sign--
The blood test numbers from the first chemo regimen were positive but the side effects became unbearable. So, you try a different chemo regimen…more tests. Test numbers are getting worse. There is a tumor in the abdomen, not where myeloma is supposed to be. This sign is recognized. We now know that a bone marrow transplant is not in the future. Instead more radiation and try a different chemo regimen.
There were more signs as the last two months progressed, all pointing to the fact that this was an aggressive cancer. The reality was Carol was experiencing the worst case scenario. Amazingly Carol's attitude was, I don't like this, but God is with me. It was clear from the beginning that Carol's focus was on walking with God on this journey…don't go searching elsewhere, just walk with God. It didn't mean she didn't hope for healing and a good outcome. But after each setback she got back up and walked with God.
While Carol was never in despair as far as we know, what about those of us who were following? Yes there were signs and we didn't always see them for what they were but God was taking us aside and saying watch this, read this, think about this. Looking back now we see ways in which God was preparing us. Here are a few of the items God brought across my path.
In October of 2013, the book, Walking with God through Pain and Suffering by Timothy Keller was published. This book presents the cultural, philosophical and Biblical perspectives and ends with first-person stories of those experiencing pain and suffering. This is a good book, but read it before it happens to you or a loved one. You don't want to read it while in pain or suffering.
In the summer of 2014 I came across a Ted talk by Matthew O'Reilly, an emergency medical technician titled: "Am I dying? The honest answer." It is a little over 5 minutes long and presents a compassionate view we don't often see in the emergency medical world. Here is a link:
http://www.ted.com/talks/matthew_o_reilly_am_i_dying_the_honest_answer
In September of 2014 Soul Keeping by John Ortberg was published. It is a great book on taking care of your soul.
In October when things were going rapidly downhill, the book, Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End by Atul Gawande was published. I highly recommend reading this book. It will help you understand our culture, our views of aging and death and give you tools for dealing with the medical world.
So, there you have it, Carol walked with God on her path and we followed behind. Once again, thanks for listening. In the next post I will share something very different titled, The Mail Box.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
Monday, September 28, 2015
Things that are hard
In the previous post I mentioned some things about going out in public that are hard. In this post I share some things that are hard when I am home or driving alone. Some of them make sense when I reflect on them, others surprised me. Here is the list.
--Music--
Music was a big deal at our house. At our house in San Jose we had a Sony component system with great speakers. The system was also wired into the bedrooms. When our kids were young we sometimes used the stereo as the alarm clock to wake them up. Just ask Chris. He can tell you exactly what we played to get him up on Sunday mornings. In our Gilroy house we changed to wireless speakers so you can broadcast to any selected speakers from your electronic devices.
Much of the music that we listened to together at home and on road trips brings back memories of specific places or events associated with particular songs. Some days I want those memories because I don't want to forget her. Other days the music is just too much as it causes a longing to go back and relive those experiences again. Of course, I can't go back to the past. But it makes me want to hug Carol and the kids again. So, I usually turn off the music on those days.
I mentioned in the previous post about the difficulty of the worship time at church. Sometimes listening to worship songs at home brings me closer to God and in turn, brings me closer to Carol. Where God is, is where Carol is. I know, sounds crazy. Which brings me to the time that is often the most difficult…morning devotions. That time when I am supposed to be having a conversation with God…talking and listening. That time gets all muddled because of my emotions. I know I am talking with the One who is God. I am not. Yet at the same time I have not yet worked through the fact that He walked with Carol and chose not to heal her in the way that we wanted, so she would be with us. I have yet to come to terms with that emotionally. Intellectually I understand it, but not yet in my heart.
--Cleaning my glasses--
I am a creature of habit. I have the same morning routine when I get up and there is a going to bed routine and one for taking care of the cats and so on. During Carol's last year there were many small tasks that got incorporated into my habits…like cleaning her glasses. In my morning routine after cleaning my glasses I would normally clean hers. After her passing my mind just starts down the path of now go get her glasses…then it hits hard…she and her glasses are not here. The reminders of the finality of her death comes to me at these habitual times when I would normally see her or be doing something for her. Those habits and recognitions do fade as time goes on…but they are often jarring and surprising.
--Sitting in our living room--
I do make it a practice to sit in our living room. Initially after her death it was difficult. I would look around and admire all the pictures, knick knacks or foo-foo as we called it, and the whole ambience of the room and my mind would go into arguing with itself. See, Carol is real. You can see the decorations and things she has done. No, she is gone. She is not here. Yes she is, see the room. And back and forth it would go. This too fades, but never goes completely away.
--Driving highway 101 and 85--
We drove highways 101 and 85 two or three times a week to the San Jose Kaiser hospital for tests and chemo treatments for more than a year. It was so familiar. It is no surprise that driving those highways now and seeing the rolling hills or the hospital in the distance brings back memories of those trips and the good and bad days.
Some months after Carol's passing I returned to the Gilroy Kaiser facility for a physical. Driving down Arroyo Circle, parking, walking into the facility and the smell of the waiting room brought back memories of the weekly blood tests Carol had done every Monday for a year. The associations do fade, but take time.
--Cleaning--
Married people build their lives around each other. So when a partner is no longer present it is hard to do things that you used to do for the other. Why am I cleaning the patio? She isn't here to enjoy it. Sometimes even getting up and starting the day is hard. Why? She is not here. I want to clean for us, not just me. Your motivation suffers when half of you is gone. Yet you have to keep busy and maintaining the old routines is a way of keeping busy. After the patio is cleaned and I sit down to enjoy how it looks on a warm summers evening…boy do I wish she was here.
I have started cleaning out her desk and closet containing folders of clippings, handwritten notes, receipts for decorating. There are folders for design ideas, bedrooms, family rooms, George's room, painting, doors, kitchens, garage and laundry, lighting, and yard ideas. There are handwritten notes such as, "use antique spoons for curtain tie backs." She was the consummate decorator. Throwing it away is like throwing her away.
And then there is cleaning out her billfold. Closing all her department store and credit cards took a full day on the computer and phone. Interestingly not one required any reason or proof for closing the account. But there is something that seems not respectful in cutting up her credit cards and emptying her billfold. Do I have the right to do this? These are her things.
--My first road trip--
We know Carol loved road trips. They were indeed fun. Road trips were an important way of keeping in touch with you. Six months after Carol passed away I took my first road trip by myself. I drove to Cheyenne to visit my mother and family. Of course, it is different now that I am by myself. As you would suspect it is more lonely. I eat alone in restaurants, book motel rooms for just myself and have no one to talk to about the scenery.
Back in the 1980's I went on many business trips alone. On business trips you mainly see airports, hotels and the classroom where I was teaching. I didn't get lonely because they usually didn't last more than a week, there was a host that took me to the local sites and I knew I would soon return to the comforts of Carol and home. Once in a great while there would be real lonely times, like when at a place that was beautiful and the only proper way to share it is to say, "Isn't that beautiful" because even a photo doesn't do it justice. One such time my flight home was canceled when in Milan, Italy. The airline put me up in a hotel on the lake front in Como, Italy. It is a popular tourist attraction that is picture perfect….just google it and you will see. I stood on the edge of the lake wishing Carol was there to share it with me. Those times were rare. Back in the '80s I knew I would be going back home, Carol would be there and I could at least tell her about it even though we couldn't share the moment.
Now when on a road trip those times of wanting to share are different, they have more angst in them, first because she is not there to share it and second, I know that when I return home she will not be there to listen to me try to tell her how beautiful it was. Hmmmm…. God made this world to share with one another. It is how it works.
Well, thanks for listening. In the next post I will share something very different titled, Always Behind.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
--Music--
Music was a big deal at our house. At our house in San Jose we had a Sony component system with great speakers. The system was also wired into the bedrooms. When our kids were young we sometimes used the stereo as the alarm clock to wake them up. Just ask Chris. He can tell you exactly what we played to get him up on Sunday mornings. In our Gilroy house we changed to wireless speakers so you can broadcast to any selected speakers from your electronic devices.
Much of the music that we listened to together at home and on road trips brings back memories of specific places or events associated with particular songs. Some days I want those memories because I don't want to forget her. Other days the music is just too much as it causes a longing to go back and relive those experiences again. Of course, I can't go back to the past. But it makes me want to hug Carol and the kids again. So, I usually turn off the music on those days.
I mentioned in the previous post about the difficulty of the worship time at church. Sometimes listening to worship songs at home brings me closer to God and in turn, brings me closer to Carol. Where God is, is where Carol is. I know, sounds crazy. Which brings me to the time that is often the most difficult…morning devotions. That time when I am supposed to be having a conversation with God…talking and listening. That time gets all muddled because of my emotions. I know I am talking with the One who is God. I am not. Yet at the same time I have not yet worked through the fact that He walked with Carol and chose not to heal her in the way that we wanted, so she would be with us. I have yet to come to terms with that emotionally. Intellectually I understand it, but not yet in my heart.
--Cleaning my glasses--
I am a creature of habit. I have the same morning routine when I get up and there is a going to bed routine and one for taking care of the cats and so on. During Carol's last year there were many small tasks that got incorporated into my habits…like cleaning her glasses. In my morning routine after cleaning my glasses I would normally clean hers. After her passing my mind just starts down the path of now go get her glasses…then it hits hard…she and her glasses are not here. The reminders of the finality of her death comes to me at these habitual times when I would normally see her or be doing something for her. Those habits and recognitions do fade as time goes on…but they are often jarring and surprising.
--Sitting in our living room--
I do make it a practice to sit in our living room. Initially after her death it was difficult. I would look around and admire all the pictures, knick knacks or foo-foo as we called it, and the whole ambience of the room and my mind would go into arguing with itself. See, Carol is real. You can see the decorations and things she has done. No, she is gone. She is not here. Yes she is, see the room. And back and forth it would go. This too fades, but never goes completely away.
--Driving highway 101 and 85--
We drove highways 101 and 85 two or three times a week to the San Jose Kaiser hospital for tests and chemo treatments for more than a year. It was so familiar. It is no surprise that driving those highways now and seeing the rolling hills or the hospital in the distance brings back memories of those trips and the good and bad days.
Some months after Carol's passing I returned to the Gilroy Kaiser facility for a physical. Driving down Arroyo Circle, parking, walking into the facility and the smell of the waiting room brought back memories of the weekly blood tests Carol had done every Monday for a year. The associations do fade, but take time.
--Cleaning--
Married people build their lives around each other. So when a partner is no longer present it is hard to do things that you used to do for the other. Why am I cleaning the patio? She isn't here to enjoy it. Sometimes even getting up and starting the day is hard. Why? She is not here. I want to clean for us, not just me. Your motivation suffers when half of you is gone. Yet you have to keep busy and maintaining the old routines is a way of keeping busy. After the patio is cleaned and I sit down to enjoy how it looks on a warm summers evening…boy do I wish she was here.
I have started cleaning out her desk and closet containing folders of clippings, handwritten notes, receipts for decorating. There are folders for design ideas, bedrooms, family rooms, George's room, painting, doors, kitchens, garage and laundry, lighting, and yard ideas. There are handwritten notes such as, "use antique spoons for curtain tie backs." She was the consummate decorator. Throwing it away is like throwing her away.
And then there is cleaning out her billfold. Closing all her department store and credit cards took a full day on the computer and phone. Interestingly not one required any reason or proof for closing the account. But there is something that seems not respectful in cutting up her credit cards and emptying her billfold. Do I have the right to do this? These are her things.
--My first road trip--
We know Carol loved road trips. They were indeed fun. Road trips were an important way of keeping in touch with you. Six months after Carol passed away I took my first road trip by myself. I drove to Cheyenne to visit my mother and family. Of course, it is different now that I am by myself. As you would suspect it is more lonely. I eat alone in restaurants, book motel rooms for just myself and have no one to talk to about the scenery.
Back in the 1980's I went on many business trips alone. On business trips you mainly see airports, hotels and the classroom where I was teaching. I didn't get lonely because they usually didn't last more than a week, there was a host that took me to the local sites and I knew I would soon return to the comforts of Carol and home. Once in a great while there would be real lonely times, like when at a place that was beautiful and the only proper way to share it is to say, "Isn't that beautiful" because even a photo doesn't do it justice. One such time my flight home was canceled when in Milan, Italy. The airline put me up in a hotel on the lake front in Como, Italy. It is a popular tourist attraction that is picture perfect….just google it and you will see. I stood on the edge of the lake wishing Carol was there to share it with me. Those times were rare. Back in the '80s I knew I would be going back home, Carol would be there and I could at least tell her about it even though we couldn't share the moment.
Now when on a road trip those times of wanting to share are different, they have more angst in them, first because she is not there to share it and second, I know that when I return home she will not be there to listen to me try to tell her how beautiful it was. Hmmmm…. God made this world to share with one another. It is how it works.
Well, thanks for listening. In the next post I will share something very different titled, Always Behind.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Out and about
Being out in public is "business as usual" if the public doesn't know you have recently lost a loved one. These interactions are as they have always been except if you have to let them know. Closing Carol's bank accounts is an example where you have to let them know. We see so many commercials trying to convince us that their bank is for us, the customer. When I walk into a bank or other business I don't really sense that they want to help me…it is their job, they want to make money. I get it. But It is interesting how the bank personnel respond to you when the conversation reaches the reason I am closing or changing an account is because my wife has passed away. There is a look that comes over their face and their body language changes. You see it in their eyes. I really sense their compassion but I am glad when the task is completed.
But if whoever I am out and about with know of my recent loss, then it is uncomfortable for both parties. Neither of us know exactly what to say when we greet each other so we blurt out, "How are you doing?" Unfortunately, I don't have an easy answer for several reasons. It is complicated. First, I am "on guard" in my interactions with people. I am alert to situations in which I might become emotional, tear up. It can happen quickly and blindside me. So I size up the situation, watch your body language, take into account if we are in a public or private setting and cautiously answer, "I'm OK." I try to avoid situations where I will lose it…so I am very cautious about going beyond the pleasant greeting stage. I am checking myself to see if I am emotionally handling the current situation.
Second, every day is different. Some days I am emotionally fragile and missing Carol terribly. Some days I am busy and focused on yard or household tasks. Some days are just long and I don't want to do anything. Some days I pace. Some days I sleep. Some days I work on the family photo archive. Some days I work on archiving Carol's documents, emails, and photos.
Third, some environments are difficult because they generate memories. One of the most difficult places has been church. You would think it would be a place of comfort. There are times when I do experience God's presence but also times when I experience her loss very deeply. Carol and I hadn't attended our local church long enough to make many friends before her illness began. So I don't really know any one. Now when I attend it is lonely, but that is a good thing in a weird way. It is just the customary greetings of people passing one another. If people don't know, it doesn't pull on my heart strings.
The worship time during church is especially hard. Carol had many favorite worship songs and I have memories of her beside me with hands raised in worship of God. Now, after her passing, when I am singing those songs my mind plays tricks on me. I think I see her beside me in my peripheral vision and when I turn to look she is not there. Then the memories and feelings wash over me. I get all teary eyed. I sometimes get a fleeting thought…I wonder if she is worshipping in heaven right now. It must be so much better than what I am engaged in right now. She gets to see God and do real worship where everyone's contribution uniquely completes the act and I'm here where I am concerned what other people think of me. I know, its weird but that goes through my mind.
A few times my attendance at church gets side tracked. I get to the church's parking lot, sit there for a few minutes thinking I don't want to go through controlling my emotions. I end up at the cemetery by her grave marker. It is just a few blocks away from the church and I sit there in my truck and wipe the tears.
Then there is what I call the rebound effect. After a few months feelings and emotions return and I have to emotionally gear up for events that I know will be difficult…things like visiting friends, celebrating birthdays, holidays and any social setting. These are events that Carol and I typically did together. It was always "George and Carol." I wasn't known separately from Carol. We were an item. Usually I gear myself up and make it through the event. It is the day after such events that turns out to be difficult. There is initially relief at having made it through the event. The relief is short lived as you become aware of feelings of incompleteness, something is not quite right. It is an uneasiness. As the day after progresses you realize that you are feeling sad because she missed it, she wasn't there. I wanted to experience it with her. I can't talk with her about it.
We have all been warned about not making important decisions while on the rebound of a traumatic event. I now have much more compassion for I now see how it is possible. When on the rebound my reason goes out the door. My mind goes places it shouldn't. I'm emotionally vulnerable and looking for closeness and comfort. Fortunately, I'm usually alone the few days after an event so that I have time to recover and then I am ready to go out and about again.
Going out and about is interesting. In the next post I will share some other things that I found hard to do that surprised me.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
But if whoever I am out and about with know of my recent loss, then it is uncomfortable for both parties. Neither of us know exactly what to say when we greet each other so we blurt out, "How are you doing?" Unfortunately, I don't have an easy answer for several reasons. It is complicated. First, I am "on guard" in my interactions with people. I am alert to situations in which I might become emotional, tear up. It can happen quickly and blindside me. So I size up the situation, watch your body language, take into account if we are in a public or private setting and cautiously answer, "I'm OK." I try to avoid situations where I will lose it…so I am very cautious about going beyond the pleasant greeting stage. I am checking myself to see if I am emotionally handling the current situation.
Second, every day is different. Some days I am emotionally fragile and missing Carol terribly. Some days I am busy and focused on yard or household tasks. Some days are just long and I don't want to do anything. Some days I pace. Some days I sleep. Some days I work on the family photo archive. Some days I work on archiving Carol's documents, emails, and photos.
Third, some environments are difficult because they generate memories. One of the most difficult places has been church. You would think it would be a place of comfort. There are times when I do experience God's presence but also times when I experience her loss very deeply. Carol and I hadn't attended our local church long enough to make many friends before her illness began. So I don't really know any one. Now when I attend it is lonely, but that is a good thing in a weird way. It is just the customary greetings of people passing one another. If people don't know, it doesn't pull on my heart strings.
The worship time during church is especially hard. Carol had many favorite worship songs and I have memories of her beside me with hands raised in worship of God. Now, after her passing, when I am singing those songs my mind plays tricks on me. I think I see her beside me in my peripheral vision and when I turn to look she is not there. Then the memories and feelings wash over me. I get all teary eyed. I sometimes get a fleeting thought…I wonder if she is worshipping in heaven right now. It must be so much better than what I am engaged in right now. She gets to see God and do real worship where everyone's contribution uniquely completes the act and I'm here where I am concerned what other people think of me. I know, its weird but that goes through my mind.
A few times my attendance at church gets side tracked. I get to the church's parking lot, sit there for a few minutes thinking I don't want to go through controlling my emotions. I end up at the cemetery by her grave marker. It is just a few blocks away from the church and I sit there in my truck and wipe the tears.
Then there is what I call the rebound effect. After a few months feelings and emotions return and I have to emotionally gear up for events that I know will be difficult…things like visiting friends, celebrating birthdays, holidays and any social setting. These are events that Carol and I typically did together. It was always "George and Carol." I wasn't known separately from Carol. We were an item. Usually I gear myself up and make it through the event. It is the day after such events that turns out to be difficult. There is initially relief at having made it through the event. The relief is short lived as you become aware of feelings of incompleteness, something is not quite right. It is an uneasiness. As the day after progresses you realize that you are feeling sad because she missed it, she wasn't there. I wanted to experience it with her. I can't talk with her about it.
We have all been warned about not making important decisions while on the rebound of a traumatic event. I now have much more compassion for I now see how it is possible. When on the rebound my reason goes out the door. My mind goes places it shouldn't. I'm emotionally vulnerable and looking for closeness and comfort. Fortunately, I'm usually alone the few days after an event so that I have time to recover and then I am ready to go out and about again.
Going out and about is interesting. In the next post I will share some other things that I found hard to do that surprised me.
Until then, grace to you ….. George
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Back Home
Dear family and friends,
I don't remember much of the first couple of days after Carol passed away. I suppose you could say I was stunned. It helps to understand my initial reactions by contrasting my life after to our life before she passed away. The month of September was packed with treatment and lab appointments. Looking at my appointment calendar there were one and sometimes two appointments every Monday through Friday for the entire month. The first three weeks of October were similar leading up to ten days of hospitalization for pain management and her passing. Our life before her passing was a flurry of travel to and from appointments, keeping medication schedules and keeping up communication with friends and family. We were also asking questions; What stage is the disease? What is the prognosis to getting back to daily activities? Is independent living a realistic possibility? When is this really not a fixable problem? When should we just do comfort care? Let's get hospice set up.
So there we were…focused on all this physical and mental activity and all of a sudden, it stops. It is quiet, just the muffled sobs of friends and family. People talk in low voices or whisper. The need to rush goes away and you find yourself drifting into something new. It is like you are an astronaut where there was an explosion and now you are floating off into space. Surreal scenes drift before your eyes. No one is in a hurry. You can't be rescued. The doctor gives you his condolences. You need to sign papers…whenever you are ready. Call the mortuary. No hurry. What do you do now? I guess we should go home… no hurry. Just keep drifting. You find yourself driving home in the early morning hours after midnight. There is the house. Everything looks familiar. Yes, the lights are still working. Everything is familiar yet strangely different. How can this familiar place be so surreal? The scenes are going by as you continue drifting. Something fundamental has changed. It slowly envelops you…Carol's presence is no longer there and is not going to be there. You keep drifting. You are alone and it is quiet. You are not going to be rescued from these events. I am not really alone. There is company and family. They are in shock as well…but the first reaction for everyone is to feel alone without her presence.
The initial reaction wears off and the best way to describe the months of November and December after Carol's passing is that our children and I were numb. No feelings or emotions. It is probably a survival characteristic that your feelings and emotions are suppressed and you just do what needs to be done. You are in zombie mode and numbly go through the motions. You contact social security, the bank, make arrangements for the memorial and graveside services. Brace yourself and go through the services, Of course November and December are holiday months and were Carol's favorite time of the year. You continue with the plans Carol had made. Friends invite you to celebrate Thanksgiving and you breathe a sigh of relief.Then it is on to celebrate my birthday, maintain Carol's Christmas plans, put up decorations and celebrate the New Year.
You go through the motions and sometimes it seems pointless, but your primary goal for these months is to keep busy. You don't want to think about her passing. So your mind is continually looking for something to do…keep your mind busy. But you are very selective about what you choose to do. You are numb yet constantly on guard because emotions can come out of no where and smack you. So you carefully choose your activities, especially social settings. You end up spending most of your activities with family because they are safe. Doing things with your family ends up being good therapy for all. Together you go through her clothes and jewelry and household items discussing which things might be keepsakes, who might want them and going about the business of sorting things out and getting things to the right people. It creates progress, accomplishment and a sense of getting things done without emotions getting in the way.
I've thought about the role of family and friends during those first couple of months. There were several friends that regularly called about once a week just to check in. Are you doing OK? The calls were helpful because they let me know I wasn't forgotten. Yet because they were not physically there and I wasn't looking in their eyes, the calls did not cause the emotional dam to break. It was a real support to me.
On the other hand, I know that in order to be healed, my tears need to be seen by family members or friends that are looking into my soul. Tears that are seen do the important work of getting the pain out of one's system. Yet I find myself most often trying to stuff it, keep it under control. Perhaps it is normal to fight what will bring healing. "How are you doing?" you ask. I answer, "I'm OK," when I really need to cry.
Depending on the social situation, when you meet a friend or family member who has recently lost a loved one, hug them and let the tears heal you both. In other social settings it is best not to stand face to face but to stand beside them looking in the same direction. You don't have to say anything, just pull them up close to you. Standing "beside" someone shares presence and helps carry the load.
All this thinking about family and friends turns my mind to you. Your support of traveling to and speaking at Carol's services, your prayers for me and our family, hugs and tears, cards, emails, phone calls, providing tables, chairs and food, as Carol would say, just blessed my socks off. God stood with me through that time and you were his agents of grace. Thank you. You are a special gift from God.
Enough for now, I'm tearing up. In the next post I will share what it is like to go out and about.
Grace to you ….. George
I don't remember much of the first couple of days after Carol passed away. I suppose you could say I was stunned. It helps to understand my initial reactions by contrasting my life after to our life before she passed away. The month of September was packed with treatment and lab appointments. Looking at my appointment calendar there were one and sometimes two appointments every Monday through Friday for the entire month. The first three weeks of October were similar leading up to ten days of hospitalization for pain management and her passing. Our life before her passing was a flurry of travel to and from appointments, keeping medication schedules and keeping up communication with friends and family. We were also asking questions; What stage is the disease? What is the prognosis to getting back to daily activities? Is independent living a realistic possibility? When is this really not a fixable problem? When should we just do comfort care? Let's get hospice set up.
So there we were…focused on all this physical and mental activity and all of a sudden, it stops. It is quiet, just the muffled sobs of friends and family. People talk in low voices or whisper. The need to rush goes away and you find yourself drifting into something new. It is like you are an astronaut where there was an explosion and now you are floating off into space. Surreal scenes drift before your eyes. No one is in a hurry. You can't be rescued. The doctor gives you his condolences. You need to sign papers…whenever you are ready. Call the mortuary. No hurry. What do you do now? I guess we should go home… no hurry. Just keep drifting. You find yourself driving home in the early morning hours after midnight. There is the house. Everything looks familiar. Yes, the lights are still working. Everything is familiar yet strangely different. How can this familiar place be so surreal? The scenes are going by as you continue drifting. Something fundamental has changed. It slowly envelops you…Carol's presence is no longer there and is not going to be there. You keep drifting. You are alone and it is quiet. You are not going to be rescued from these events. I am not really alone. There is company and family. They are in shock as well…but the first reaction for everyone is to feel alone without her presence.
The initial reaction wears off and the best way to describe the months of November and December after Carol's passing is that our children and I were numb. No feelings or emotions. It is probably a survival characteristic that your feelings and emotions are suppressed and you just do what needs to be done. You are in zombie mode and numbly go through the motions. You contact social security, the bank, make arrangements for the memorial and graveside services. Brace yourself and go through the services, Of course November and December are holiday months and were Carol's favorite time of the year. You continue with the plans Carol had made. Friends invite you to celebrate Thanksgiving and you breathe a sigh of relief.Then it is on to celebrate my birthday, maintain Carol's Christmas plans, put up decorations and celebrate the New Year.
You go through the motions and sometimes it seems pointless, but your primary goal for these months is to keep busy. You don't want to think about her passing. So your mind is continually looking for something to do…keep your mind busy. But you are very selective about what you choose to do. You are numb yet constantly on guard because emotions can come out of no where and smack you. So you carefully choose your activities, especially social settings. You end up spending most of your activities with family because they are safe. Doing things with your family ends up being good therapy for all. Together you go through her clothes and jewelry and household items discussing which things might be keepsakes, who might want them and going about the business of sorting things out and getting things to the right people. It creates progress, accomplishment and a sense of getting things done without emotions getting in the way.
I've thought about the role of family and friends during those first couple of months. There were several friends that regularly called about once a week just to check in. Are you doing OK? The calls were helpful because they let me know I wasn't forgotten. Yet because they were not physically there and I wasn't looking in their eyes, the calls did not cause the emotional dam to break. It was a real support to me.
On the other hand, I know that in order to be healed, my tears need to be seen by family members or friends that are looking into my soul. Tears that are seen do the important work of getting the pain out of one's system. Yet I find myself most often trying to stuff it, keep it under control. Perhaps it is normal to fight what will bring healing. "How are you doing?" you ask. I answer, "I'm OK," when I really need to cry.
Depending on the social situation, when you meet a friend or family member who has recently lost a loved one, hug them and let the tears heal you both. In other social settings it is best not to stand face to face but to stand beside them looking in the same direction. You don't have to say anything, just pull them up close to you. Standing "beside" someone shares presence and helps carry the load.
All this thinking about family and friends turns my mind to you. Your support of traveling to and speaking at Carol's services, your prayers for me and our family, hugs and tears, cards, emails, phone calls, providing tables, chairs and food, as Carol would say, just blessed my socks off. God stood with me through that time and you were his agents of grace. Thank you. You are a special gift from God.
Enough for now, I'm tearing up. In the next post I will share what it is like to go out and about.
Grace to you ….. George
The Last Road Trip
Dear siblings and kids,
Preface
It is one of my favorite memories. During the first five years of our marriage as a newly married young couple and before we had any children, we would read to each other before falling asleep. What did we read you ask? Well, it was two of the great story tellers of our time. We read through The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien and The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis. Little did I know the power and ability to communicate through story, to give place and meaning.
The Last Road Trip
Carol loved road trips. It was all planned. My contract was ending and we were to leave the following week for another road trip. We would go southeast to Arizona to visit Chris and family, then on the the midwest to visit friends and then to Wyoming and family. Our road trips ranged from short ones of 2,000 miles to longer ones of 4 to 5,000 miles. This time we were concerned about being out of our medical plan area because the pain in Carol's arm was becoming increasingly troublesome.
We were set to leave on Saturday, but on Thursday, we got the diagnosis of cancer in her arm. That Friday as I was commuting to work to turn in my computer and contract materials, I was listening to an audio version of the last book in The Chronicles of Narnia. In the same way that the characters in the story were transitioning to a new story, I distinctly had the impression from God that I would not be returning to the work world, but that Carol and I would be going down a very different path, a different adventure.
It turned out to be another road trip, just not the one we had planned. It was a trip of 6,512 miles and took a year and 2 months. Yes, that is how many miles we traveled together to doctor appointments, medical tests, blood work, hospital visits for MRIs, PET scans and biopsies, chemo and radiation treatments.
It wasn't a road trip where you watched the scenery and took interesting side trips. It was more like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day where the same day keeps repeating until he re-examines his life and priorities. We traveled highways 85, 101 and 280 over and over. It became automatic. We didn't look at the scenery. It narrowed and became an interior trip together. We listened to a lot of music. Our conversations turned to, "This song has come to mean a lot to me. How about you?" It was subtle, but we found ourselves re-examining our lives in terms of a reality that wasn't outside the truck but inside with us.
These regular trips became the new normal…it was what we did together. We listened to the same songs together over and over. If you know the tune, sing along.
The Lord is my light and my salvation.
The Lord is the strength of my life….
So I will not be afraid…
…..
Many times like a child I come to you with a broken heart
And every time you are there to ease the pain when the journeys hard.
You comfort me, in every trial, You comfort me.
You walk with me and every mile, You comfort me.
Even in the darkness I can hear your promise, I am with you.
And even in the fire, You will lift me higher. Lift me up to you.
…..
You comfort me, in every trial ….
I've written earlier about looking over at Carol and seeing her completely enveloped in God's presence as she hummed and sang with the songs. Yep, wouldn't have missed the trip for anything. I came to realize that Carol had deep roots in God that was the result of years of walking with Him.
Yet as I listened to her sing, I often felt like Sam in The Lord of the Rings books. Sam was Frodo's constant companion and encourager as they went on their journey. That too was my role, to go on the journey with her. The ending to The Lord of the Rings closely describes the ending of the road trip for me. Think of Carol as Frodo, me as Sam and Keri, Chris and Kelly as Merry and Pippin. Here is a shortened version:
"It was evening, and the stars were glimmering in the eastern sky as they passed the ruined oak and turned and went on down the hill between the hazel-thickets. Sam was silent, deep in his memories. Presently he became aware that Frodo was singing softly to himself…
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the moon, East of the Sun.
Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travelers came towards them… Elrond greeted them… Then Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes, 'Hello Frodo!' he said … 'I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?'
'Yes, I am coming,' said Frodo. 'The Ring-bearers should go together.'
'Where are you going, Master?' cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.
'To the Havens, Sam,' said Frodo.
'And I can't come.'
'No Sam. Not yet anyway,..'
'But,' said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, 'I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years,…'
'So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt…' ' Come now, ride with me!' And when they had passed from the Shire, going about the south skirts of the White Downs … and looked on the distant Sea … to the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune.
Then Cirdan led them to the Havens, and there was a white ship lying, and upon the quay stood a figure robed all in white awaiting them…
But Sam was now sorrowful at heart, and it seemed to him that if the parting would be bitter, more grievous still would be the long road home alone… as they stood there … up rode Merry and Pippin…
Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth…
But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West… Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and they were silent.
At last the three companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke no word to one another until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road.
At last they rode over the downs and took the East rode … Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill… He drew a deep breath, 'Well, I'm back,' he said."
We traveled 6,512 miles together on our last road trip… at the end, our roads diverged. Carol went on to the Havens. We can't go there yet. We are back where the trip started. But we have hints at what was at the end of Carol's road trip. It is described in the last pages of The Chronicles of Narnia. It goes like this:
"Then Aslan turned to them and said:
'You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be.'
Lucy said, 'We're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan. And you have sent us back into our own world so often.'
'No fear of that,' said Aslan. 'Have you not guessed?'
There hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them.
'There was a real railway accident,' said Aslan softly. 'Your father and mother and all of you are--as you used to call it in the Shadowlands--dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.'
And as he spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before."
Carol and I have had many road trips together. They were beautiful trips. Our longest trip was as husband and wife and was 49 years, 3 months, and 29 days. Our last road trip ended too soon. It isn't the same without her.
Tearfully …. George
Preface
It is one of my favorite memories. During the first five years of our marriage as a newly married young couple and before we had any children, we would read to each other before falling asleep. What did we read you ask? Well, it was two of the great story tellers of our time. We read through The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien and The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis. Little did I know the power and ability to communicate through story, to give place and meaning.
The Last Road Trip
Carol loved road trips. It was all planned. My contract was ending and we were to leave the following week for another road trip. We would go southeast to Arizona to visit Chris and family, then on the the midwest to visit friends and then to Wyoming and family. Our road trips ranged from short ones of 2,000 miles to longer ones of 4 to 5,000 miles. This time we were concerned about being out of our medical plan area because the pain in Carol's arm was becoming increasingly troublesome.
We were set to leave on Saturday, but on Thursday, we got the diagnosis of cancer in her arm. That Friday as I was commuting to work to turn in my computer and contract materials, I was listening to an audio version of the last book in The Chronicles of Narnia. In the same way that the characters in the story were transitioning to a new story, I distinctly had the impression from God that I would not be returning to the work world, but that Carol and I would be going down a very different path, a different adventure.
It turned out to be another road trip, just not the one we had planned. It was a trip of 6,512 miles and took a year and 2 months. Yes, that is how many miles we traveled together to doctor appointments, medical tests, blood work, hospital visits for MRIs, PET scans and biopsies, chemo and radiation treatments.
It wasn't a road trip where you watched the scenery and took interesting side trips. It was more like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day where the same day keeps repeating until he re-examines his life and priorities. We traveled highways 85, 101 and 280 over and over. It became automatic. We didn't look at the scenery. It narrowed and became an interior trip together. We listened to a lot of music. Our conversations turned to, "This song has come to mean a lot to me. How about you?" It was subtle, but we found ourselves re-examining our lives in terms of a reality that wasn't outside the truck but inside with us.
These regular trips became the new normal…it was what we did together. We listened to the same songs together over and over. If you know the tune, sing along.
The Lord is my light and my salvation.
The Lord is the strength of my life….
So I will not be afraid…
…..
Many times like a child I come to you with a broken heart
And every time you are there to ease the pain when the journeys hard.
You comfort me, in every trial, You comfort me.
You walk with me and every mile, You comfort me.
Even in the darkness I can hear your promise, I am with you.
And even in the fire, You will lift me higher. Lift me up to you.
…..
You comfort me, in every trial ….
I've written earlier about looking over at Carol and seeing her completely enveloped in God's presence as she hummed and sang with the songs. Yep, wouldn't have missed the trip for anything. I came to realize that Carol had deep roots in God that was the result of years of walking with Him.
Yet as I listened to her sing, I often felt like Sam in The Lord of the Rings books. Sam was Frodo's constant companion and encourager as they went on their journey. That too was my role, to go on the journey with her. The ending to The Lord of the Rings closely describes the ending of the road trip for me. Think of Carol as Frodo, me as Sam and Keri, Chris and Kelly as Merry and Pippin. Here is a shortened version:
"It was evening, and the stars were glimmering in the eastern sky as they passed the ruined oak and turned and went on down the hill between the hazel-thickets. Sam was silent, deep in his memories. Presently he became aware that Frodo was singing softly to himself…
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the moon, East of the Sun.
Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travelers came towards them… Elrond greeted them… Then Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes, 'Hello Frodo!' he said … 'I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?'
'Yes, I am coming,' said Frodo. 'The Ring-bearers should go together.'
'Where are you going, Master?' cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.
'To the Havens, Sam,' said Frodo.
'And I can't come.'
'No Sam. Not yet anyway,..'
'But,' said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, 'I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years,…'
'So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt…' ' Come now, ride with me!' And when they had passed from the Shire, going about the south skirts of the White Downs … and looked on the distant Sea … to the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune.
Then Cirdan led them to the Havens, and there was a white ship lying, and upon the quay stood a figure robed all in white awaiting them…
But Sam was now sorrowful at heart, and it seemed to him that if the parting would be bitter, more grievous still would be the long road home alone… as they stood there … up rode Merry and Pippin…
Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth…
But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West… Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and they were silent.
At last the three companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke no word to one another until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road.
At last they rode over the downs and took the East rode … Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill… He drew a deep breath, 'Well, I'm back,' he said."
We traveled 6,512 miles together on our last road trip… at the end, our roads diverged. Carol went on to the Havens. We can't go there yet. We are back where the trip started. But we have hints at what was at the end of Carol's road trip. It is described in the last pages of The Chronicles of Narnia. It goes like this:
"Then Aslan turned to them and said:
'You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be.'
Lucy said, 'We're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan. And you have sent us back into our own world so often.'
'No fear of that,' said Aslan. 'Have you not guessed?'
There hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them.
'There was a real railway accident,' said Aslan softly. 'Your father and mother and all of you are--as you used to call it in the Shadowlands--dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.'
And as he spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before."
Carol and I have had many road trips together. They were beautiful trips. Our longest trip was as husband and wife and was 49 years, 3 months, and 29 days. Our last road trip ended too soon. It isn't the same without her.
Tearfully …. George
Losses and Gains
Dear siblings and kids,
I wrote most of this before Carol passed away at the end of October. I decided to leave it as is because it describes where I was during the month of October.
This past year has been filled with a strange mixture losses and gains. The first losses and gains are physical. As people grow older or experience disease they begin experiencing the loss of independence. First was the loss of being able to drive because of the arm surgery and neuropathy in her feet. She became dependent on me to take her shopping, visiting friends, going to bible study. As things progress you lose your ability to do daily activities. Things like cooking, making the bed, and doing the laundry. Then comes the loss that affects your sense of dignity. You need help going to the bathroom, taking a shower, dressing yourself and combing your hair. Carol went through these losses over the past year. Carol didn't want to be dependent on me. At the same time I gained a sense of being needed and purpose. It was clear, my job description was to help her wherever it was needed. Hmmm…. one loses and one gains.
Another set of losses and gains is in the area of emotions and feelings. One of the gains is the experiencing of emotions and feelings over an extended period of time that one normally experiences for short periods. When Carol is in pain I try to make her comfortable. Would you like an ice pack? A heating pad? Do you need your pillows adjusted? It is not yet time for your pain medication. Is your pain level a 5 or a 7? Knowing that you can't make the pain go away brings emotions and feelings I normally try to block out of my life. I feel detached and unable to help her through it. I am this observer watching someone experiencing suffering. I am outside and can't do anything to help her on the inside… like observing through a barrier. They are uncomfortable feelings. Strangely, I gained the ability to read her face and could tell you exactly her pain level.
Another set of losses and gains are relational. People lose loved ones in different ways. Sometimes it is sudden as in an auto accident or heart attack. Sometimes it is slow and takes months and years as in Alzheimer's or a stroke. Either way one goes through sadness and grieving that a person you once knew is no longer the same. I am losing Carol, slowly over the months…it is not a good feeling. It is a slow ache. And yes, I occasionally shed tears. Carol spends most of her day in the recliner in her study with the TV on. She is very fatigued and sleeps a lot. It is like we live separate lives. We sleep in different rooms. I miss the physical touch we used to share. I spend most of my time doing maintenance…keeping things clean and put away…maintaining home and yard. I want the conversation times we used to have. I remember Carol describing her mother after her stroke as no longer being the mother she knew. The physical and mental limitations of the stroke turned her into someone who was not her mother, yet she was her mother. I am beginning to experience something similar with Carol. She is my wife, but not the wife I knew. The cumulative effects of the chemo, surgery, radiation treatments and pain is changing her.
I am losing my wife and at the same time I am gaining a new experience of watching her hunker down in her faith and trust. As the bad news increased she went more and more inward toward her trust in God. I could see her drawing closer and closer to God. I gained the experience of watching her become more sure of God's reality and less concerned about the things we think are important for living. I don't want to return to the world of illusion where we think we are in control.
Keri, Chris and Kelly are sensing the changes in Carol as well. Whenever they drop by or call they seem to expect that things are not getting better and are not surprised that things are getting worse. I watch them go through the same loss… the loss of the mother they knew.
I can't make much sense of the loses and gains. There seems to be no purpose and there are no answers from God…except to trust in His character. Right now the losses seem to outweigh the gains. So I am left to trust that God is doing something far more beautiful than I can imagine. I think Carol will have some extra special glory about her in heaven due to this journey of loses and gains and only she and God will know the reason.
Once again, thanks for listening. I've recently written two more emails that are very different. I will send them out in the near future.
… George
I wrote most of this before Carol passed away at the end of October. I decided to leave it as is because it describes where I was during the month of October.
This past year has been filled with a strange mixture losses and gains. The first losses and gains are physical. As people grow older or experience disease they begin experiencing the loss of independence. First was the loss of being able to drive because of the arm surgery and neuropathy in her feet. She became dependent on me to take her shopping, visiting friends, going to bible study. As things progress you lose your ability to do daily activities. Things like cooking, making the bed, and doing the laundry. Then comes the loss that affects your sense of dignity. You need help going to the bathroom, taking a shower, dressing yourself and combing your hair. Carol went through these losses over the past year. Carol didn't want to be dependent on me. At the same time I gained a sense of being needed and purpose. It was clear, my job description was to help her wherever it was needed. Hmmm…. one loses and one gains.
Another set of losses and gains is in the area of emotions and feelings. One of the gains is the experiencing of emotions and feelings over an extended period of time that one normally experiences for short periods. When Carol is in pain I try to make her comfortable. Would you like an ice pack? A heating pad? Do you need your pillows adjusted? It is not yet time for your pain medication. Is your pain level a 5 or a 7? Knowing that you can't make the pain go away brings emotions and feelings I normally try to block out of my life. I feel detached and unable to help her through it. I am this observer watching someone experiencing suffering. I am outside and can't do anything to help her on the inside… like observing through a barrier. They are uncomfortable feelings. Strangely, I gained the ability to read her face and could tell you exactly her pain level.
Another set of losses and gains are relational. People lose loved ones in different ways. Sometimes it is sudden as in an auto accident or heart attack. Sometimes it is slow and takes months and years as in Alzheimer's or a stroke. Either way one goes through sadness and grieving that a person you once knew is no longer the same. I am losing Carol, slowly over the months…it is not a good feeling. It is a slow ache. And yes, I occasionally shed tears. Carol spends most of her day in the recliner in her study with the TV on. She is very fatigued and sleeps a lot. It is like we live separate lives. We sleep in different rooms. I miss the physical touch we used to share. I spend most of my time doing maintenance…keeping things clean and put away…maintaining home and yard. I want the conversation times we used to have. I remember Carol describing her mother after her stroke as no longer being the mother she knew. The physical and mental limitations of the stroke turned her into someone who was not her mother, yet she was her mother. I am beginning to experience something similar with Carol. She is my wife, but not the wife I knew. The cumulative effects of the chemo, surgery, radiation treatments and pain is changing her.
I am losing my wife and at the same time I am gaining a new experience of watching her hunker down in her faith and trust. As the bad news increased she went more and more inward toward her trust in God. I could see her drawing closer and closer to God. I gained the experience of watching her become more sure of God's reality and less concerned about the things we think are important for living. I don't want to return to the world of illusion where we think we are in control.
Keri, Chris and Kelly are sensing the changes in Carol as well. Whenever they drop by or call they seem to expect that things are not getting better and are not surprised that things are getting worse. I watch them go through the same loss… the loss of the mother they knew.
I can't make much sense of the loses and gains. There seems to be no purpose and there are no answers from God…except to trust in His character. Right now the losses seem to outweigh the gains. So I am left to trust that God is doing something far more beautiful than I can imagine. I think Carol will have some extra special glory about her in heaven due to this journey of loses and gains and only she and God will know the reason.
Once again, thanks for listening. I've recently written two more emails that are very different. I will send them out in the near future.
… George
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