Until We Meet Again

My beloved has gone on before me. He drew his last breath as I watched. His fight to remain on the Earthly plain is over. There is no more pain. No more struggling for each ounce of oxygen. He is with our Heavenly Father, his grandparents and parents whom he loved and was truly loved by.

A part of me wants to yell Hallelujah and be filled with joy. But my selfish side fights useless tears of grief from a heart torn out of my chest.

Yes, I'm the wife of an angel now. All there is left to do is heal until I can smile again.

Craving Being Alone

YET!

This week has been really rough not only because my husband is actively dying. I'm SURROUNDED!

I've rarely had any alone time with just me and my husband. A revolving door has replaced my front door and the line of people trying to get in to be of help is growing larger by the hour. You've got to remember I'm basically a self sufficient person used to getting it done. I should be grateful.

Even saying that, I'm not opposed to help when needed. BUT STILL... family has been staying and feels I should not be left alone with my husband. They don't want me to be alone in case he dies as if I'd drop off the deep end when he dies and I can't handle it. They are hovering. A really morbid picture of buzzards circling the dying pops into my mind as I type this. But that is UNKIND. I know they are really doing it out of love and concern. They are also grieving.

My two fairly local (within 100 mile radius) daughters are taking shifts so I never am more than a couple hours alone with my beloved. Someone else is always here. I'm just complaining, I know I should be grateful for their attentiveness. I guess I've got to complain about something because this is a helpless situation and nobody can really do anything and they feel helpless too.

My beloved has been in a coma since yesterday. He speaks aloud in his state. I hear him talking to his mother. I am comforted by this because she is waiting for him. The death rattle type breathing and for the last twelve hours, the smell of death fills my nostrils. All I want to do is curl up on the bed with him as we did in happier times.

What is he waiting on? Nobody at hospice can understand, but my daughters and I know. He's waiting on his baby girl. She'll be home with our newest grandson in about three hours. I expect him to pass on quietly after that.

The Funeral Director

Yesterday, I stopped in at the funeral home to sign the paperwork. Can anything be so morbid? Or a slap in the face reality check?  I was picking out his casket. Somethings are just easier to do when not blinded by grief...this is one of them. The good Lord knows I've been in that spot too many times.

I've known this funeral director for over 30 years (she's only 47). She went to high school with one of my younger, adopted sisters. Her daddy buried my mother before he got political ambitions. Yep, it's a family run business rather than a corporation run funeral home and it's a dying breed if you'll excuse the pun. I'll deal with independents rather than corporations any day. They are a tad bit more expensive, but the add-on value is fabulous. They have more wiggle room and better customer service. We've used them eight times already for family and more than I can count for friends. I just wish I didn't only see her or her sister when there is a need for their service.

The casket

I knew my hubby wanted a cheap casket. He wants to leave me with as much money as possible from the insurance. Of course.I have other sources of money too upon his death, but I won't go into that here. I asked the funeral director to show me the cheapest besides the pauper's funeral one ( a plain, black, plastic box). She showed it to me, and then I asked to see the next higher one in price. It just so happened to be in my husband's favorite color, blue. It has silver handles and fittings which made for a nice contrast. It was like a gift that was perfect. The difference in price was $300 so I splurged.

The mahogany one in the background has a price of over four grand. While gorgeous, I couldn't justify the price to bury his empty shell. I mean everything I love about my husband will not be in his body anymore.

I've seen television commercial about how expensive burials are, but the final tally shocked me a bit. By the time you add in the flowers, minister fees, organist fees, head stone, etc... my husband's burial will set me back $10 grand. And, I was being modest and thrifty! Put in perspective, that's 1/8 the original cost of my house. I'm not complaining, mind you, but still. It's a one shot deal.

The burial plot was free, thank goodness, because we are members of the church. We had chosen ours to be by his parents at the time of their death. The only cost involved is a maintenance fund but that's for the entire cemetery. This fund is huge because some of the graves go back to the 1700's. As a historical landmark, the church is also entitled to State funds to preserve it. But it is private and open to church members only. I decided long ago that I wanted to be cremated so to save expenses when I die, but my husband has a different mindset. Lord knows, I don't want to be haunted by his angry spirit after he's gone. So the funeral is set just waiting on him to draw his last breath.

Each time he wakes up, I'm greeted with a cheery, "Hi ba-by! I love you!" It doesn't matter if it was five minutes earlier and he'd drifted off to sleep in between, or hours. Although his speech is slurred and marked with aphasia, I understand every word. He has such a peaceful smile on his face once the pain is deadened. I almost envy him. It's taking almost 70-80 mgs of morphine every couple of hours to maintain that serenity now. Angels are whispering in his ear. One of these times, he will go with them. But everything that can be prepared in advance is finally finished. Now I just answer him back with my own "Hi! I love you" and meaning every word.

How Am I Holding Up.

This post is to answer all the inquiries, emails, and comments I've received in the past twenty-four hours.Well yesterday was horrible because I knew I had to deal with my family and his, and give them all the punch to the gut like I had received. But that's done now. God's blessings on each and everyone of y'all.

WARNING: This post contains heavy Christian material. But me, as a minister and a faith driven individual, I had to share it.If you take offense to it. Please stop reading now. It may have errors in it because I'm just putting it out there to all of you. Hey, I'm brain damaged and give me a break. So if you are a grammar Nazi, please stop reading.

It was supposed to be a quiet day with only the aide coming in. It was time for me to decompress some and come to terms. Even though my darling hubby has had a terminal diagnosis and been actively dying for the past year, there is nothing like someone telling you the time is nigh and seeing the proof. I thought I was prepared.  Hadn't I been practicing for his death with dry runs for 13 years? Truth is you are never prepared.

Today started with waking my beloved for his dose of Ativan. I rubbed his arm to wake him gently. I felt his hands creep up to mine, hold it, and then he drew it to his lips with a smile on his face. I asked him what his pain level was and his eyes popped open wide...ZERO! Wow! This was amazing because his normal pain level for years has been a 6+. I considered not giving him his dose of morphine until he yelped in pain when he tried to reposition himself in the bed. He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

My oldest daughter made the drive down from Savannah and surprised us with a visit. She told me to leave him to her and just do what I wanted to do. I got a break! I actually just ran to the drug store and went to pick up a few things at the grocery store. As I was leaving the store, the pressure sore that had been brewing on the bottom of my foot where my brace rubs ruptured. I hobbled out of the store, came home and collapsed in a chair.

Once I had the lidocaine/antibiotic cream on it and the padded bandage placed I knew my time was up for freedom. I hobbled to a chair and plopped down in misery with my brace off. That was beginning of Murphy's Law hitting overdrive.

His aide called and said she'd be here for my husband's care in 45 minutes.

My daughter, with her boot on for severely sprained ankle ligaments, was sweeping the floor for me. One less job I have to do.

MOM's Meals (Meals on Wheels for the Elderly) delivered my husband's food for the next two weeks. My daughter, didn't know what to do with the freezer case, so I was up tending to that. 

FedEx delivered his new prescriptions from hospice and they needed my signature because of the morphine. I had just sat down and taken my brace off. 

Then it was UPS making a delivery. ARGH! All the up and down, brace on and off was really aggravating my foot. I'm barely able to bear weight on it to walk.

Are You Dizzy Yet?

My daughter had to drive back to Savannah before the afternoon thundershowers deluged the coast, plus she has kids of her own to care for. I thanked her for her help. So much for sleeping when my hubby slept like the nurse instructed me to do yesterday. In fact my youngest daughter and I had joked the night before that we'd both be exhausted from all the diaper changes and feedings or in my husband's case medications.

A light knock at the door had me up again. I had forgotten the hospice social worker had asked to visit us today because of Terry's new status as "dying process." But I was glad to see her. We share a kindred bond through Christ and the Holy Spirit. I needed answers to questions I was asking God and I just wasn't hearing Him. Together we have an amplified radar. It helps me sort through the noise.

I told her I was tired of having all these experiences in life just to be able to relate one on one to others to bring them into Christ's flock. I've been doing it for 45 years now. I know my strength  comes from the Lord.  I mean but really there are tons of people and ministers who had not personally dealt with half as much stuff. As such, the world will try to break that connection. I wasn't faltering in faith but sometimes you just want to know why.

She said I was a martyr for Christ to show people hope after the world stuff strikes. To be the light as a way out of despair and into Glory.

I fired back with the first thing that would come out of everyone's mouth..."Why me? I never asked or wanted to be a marytr."  Then it hit me. My prayers I end with "Thy Will be done." That's acceptance. I'm agreeing to it. God will use anything at His disposal to to gain souls and bring comfort to His flock. Yep, even me. Hand chosen for His Work. This is not said with any sense of pride.Would any sane person take ownership over being a martyr??  It just is what it is. It never dawned on me that this was what was happening.

But that was only the first question. The second was why did God tell me to marry my husband when

I had specifically asked for a man of God? My husband at the time wasn't a Spirit filled Christian, but God promised me that he would be. Why when God finally fulfilled His promise to me did He want to take Him home? The answer came to me as I was ranting and crying to this social worker. The voice said, "You are like a mother to a child. You nurture them. You love them with all of your heart as they grow. Eventually, all children become adults and have to spread there wings. This is what your husband is doing. He's coming to Heaven to spread his wings."

All this was verbalized aphasically at times and yet, when the revelation dawned on me, there was such a feeling of peace and comfort enveloping me. My anger at feeling cheated and used badly dissipated. The tears stopped and I blew my nose.

I know there will be more tears in the coming days, but for now I'm basking in my Father's love. I know I will not have to walk these steps alone...for He is with me.

Comfort Only Time

The hospice nurse just left. It's comfort only time. Just keep him sedated. I don't have to worry about food or fluids. This stage could last a day or a month. My Irish leprechaun just wants to keep on fighting to be here though. I don't know whether to sigh with relief or cry. I always hate this stage. 

I've been here too many times with too many loved ones.

Yesterday, thirty-six years ago, my mother hit this stage. I've got an odd sense of dejavu and am struck by the irony of the timing.