Today I have been thinking about anger a lot. And I mean a lot. Last night I read a blog post by an acquaintance of mine who is so angry it just seethes out of her and then just oozes off the page to the reader. She lost her husband a year ago and her husband's killer gets out of prison this week.
As I reflect on anger in general, I wonder specifically if I have it. Am I angry because Brian went to heaven and left me here to be alone; to raise three kids by myself?
I have to say no, I am not angry.
Sad, yes.
Disappointed, yes.
Wondering, yes.
My circumstances are different than this acquaintance of mine, meaning the death. Brian left this world by suffocating, being found face down in his pillow. A few weeks prior, we had an amazing conversation about our past together and he apologized for things he had done that hurt me, intentional or not. He had never intended to hurt me but certain choices he made and actions he took did just that. And he apologized for those things -- specifically by name. There was nothing left undealt with between us.
The night before he died, I told him to keep his eyes on Jesus and he did... all the way home to heaven. There are things I won't know until I get to heaven, but right now I know what I need to know.
I know Brian loved me with everything he had.
I know he wanted to serve God and do what was right, even though it would have been difficult.
Tonight, the girls went to The Attic, the bereavement group for kids at our church. They did an activity where each person wrote on a plate all that they were angry about and then threw it on the ground to break it. Get that anger out! Turn it over to Jesus! I was asked if I wanted to take a plate and do it and I declined.
I am really not angry.
Everyone deals with loss and grief in their own way and EVERY person's experience is different. I hope that others anger will subside and that they will feel peace as I do.
Father God, help me to understand and be empathetic toward others who have experienced loss. Use me for your glory and let your light shine brightly through me.
Amen.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
another "see you later"
I chuckle to myself as I remember something my dad always used to say to me when we would part ways. He would never let me say good-bye. It was always, "see you later." And now, I am so glad he instilled that in me. Because I will. I will see him later. Later in heaven along with my dear Brian, whom I miss so deeply.
My dad lost his battle with merkel cell carcinoma [MCC] yesterday morning. what an intense time it was. Thankfully mom and I had a friend here with us to keep watch over him through the night as his passing hour drew nearer. We rested, Dad struggled with his breathing, our friend prayed, and the nurse on duty desperately wanted to help my dad in those final hours.
Looking back, I cannot see that my dad would have ever been feeble and week as some elderly folks get. No, he was strong, really, to the end. Even though he could no longer eat or drink, his physical body, mental energy and heart were strong. The MCC didn't become invasive to his body but rather just took over his neck and face area, eventually closing off his esophagus so he could no longer breathe. If he had to have cancer, MCC was really the best for him. He saw it growing everyday, not worrying about where else it was going. He liked to be in control of things, and though he could not control the cancer's growth, he had a handle on where it was. Typically cancer grows on the inside and one cannot see it. It's slow and painful oftentimes. In Dad's case, no. It grew quickly [overtaking his throat area in less than a week] and painlessly [except for pressure he felt on his jaw bone and the occasional pain spike in his neck near the spine].
Really, God was so good. I shake my head as I write because I just can't believe i even write this stuff sometimes. But the feeling is real and genuine in my heart. Just like I believe Brian's death was a merciful one, the same rings true here.
Well, Dad, I miss you. I've got no one to help me out with the car now and I don't know who I'll turn to for those big bear hugs you gave. But you know, God is good. I am sure you see that now that you are with him for eternity. I love you, Dad. And I WILL see you later.
My dad lost his battle with merkel cell carcinoma [MCC] yesterday morning. what an intense time it was. Thankfully mom and I had a friend here with us to keep watch over him through the night as his passing hour drew nearer. We rested, Dad struggled with his breathing, our friend prayed, and the nurse on duty desperately wanted to help my dad in those final hours.
Looking back, I cannot see that my dad would have ever been feeble and week as some elderly folks get. No, he was strong, really, to the end. Even though he could no longer eat or drink, his physical body, mental energy and heart were strong. The MCC didn't become invasive to his body but rather just took over his neck and face area, eventually closing off his esophagus so he could no longer breathe. If he had to have cancer, MCC was really the best for him. He saw it growing everyday, not worrying about where else it was going. He liked to be in control of things, and though he could not control the cancer's growth, he had a handle on where it was. Typically cancer grows on the inside and one cannot see it. It's slow and painful oftentimes. In Dad's case, no. It grew quickly [overtaking his throat area in less than a week] and painlessly [except for pressure he felt on his jaw bone and the occasional pain spike in his neck near the spine].
Really, God was so good. I shake my head as I write because I just can't believe i even write this stuff sometimes. But the feeling is real and genuine in my heart. Just like I believe Brian's death was a merciful one, the same rings true here.
Well, Dad, I miss you. I've got no one to help me out with the car now and I don't know who I'll turn to for those big bear hugs you gave. But you know, God is good. I am sure you see that now that you are with him for eternity. I love you, Dad. And I WILL see you later.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Dad's condition these days...
tonight i am writing about my dad. it is so hard watching my father's deterioration. someone asked me which was harder -- losing Brian suddenly or watching my father lose his life over time. both are equally as difficult and neither are desirable. and personally, i think it sucks to be going through it either way.
I hesitate to write this as it is difficult for me, but here goes.
My dad has been told by his doctors that there are no more treatments that he
may receive. No more radiation. No more chemotherapy. The reason for this is because the treatment has become ineffective. It's no longer working.
And it's true. He would receive treatment and the tumors continued to grow, as
they do now. They are growing very quickly. The kids and I went away for an
overnight stay at a friend's and when we got home, I noticed a significant
amount of growth from the tumors; even new ones had formed. Also, the older
tumors have begun to weep and bleed as the cancer is eating through the skin.
The large tumors beneath or near his jaw have begun to displace it, making it
difficult for him to eat or drink. Honestly, my father looks very little like
his former self. His voice is changing, too, as the tumors encroach upon his
esophagus and throat area.
Dad's mood is melancholy as he worries about the coming days. I pray he looks to
the skies for the hand of God to bless him and the arms of Jesus to comfort him.
Though he does try to keep a good attitude for us sometimes, he is depressed and
emotionally and physically exhausted a lot of the time.
And so, family and friends, I write an honest account of the happenings here. It
is not easy. Mom is his 24/7 nurse, while dr's and nurses from hospice care have
now begun to visit at least once a week. I try to help when I am home, as I have
a new job that allows me to continue homeschooling the kids.
Please pray for us all here and give Mom or Dad a call or email to encourage. We
will let you know further in awhile, if more help is needed. Thank you for your
prayers.
I hesitate to write this as it is difficult for me, but here goes.
My dad has been told by his doctors that there are no more treatments that he
may receive. No more radiation. No more chemotherapy. The reason for this is because the treatment has become ineffective. It's no longer working.
And it's true. He would receive treatment and the tumors continued to grow, as
they do now. They are growing very quickly. The kids and I went away for an
overnight stay at a friend's and when we got home, I noticed a significant
amount of growth from the tumors; even new ones had formed. Also, the older
tumors have begun to weep and bleed as the cancer is eating through the skin.
The large tumors beneath or near his jaw have begun to displace it, making it
difficult for him to eat or drink. Honestly, my father looks very little like
his former self. His voice is changing, too, as the tumors encroach upon his
esophagus and throat area.
Dad's mood is melancholy as he worries about the coming days. I pray he looks to
the skies for the hand of God to bless him and the arms of Jesus to comfort him.
Though he does try to keep a good attitude for us sometimes, he is depressed and
emotionally and physically exhausted a lot of the time.
And so, family and friends, I write an honest account of the happenings here. It
is not easy. Mom is his 24/7 nurse, while dr's and nurses from hospice care have
now begun to visit at least once a week. I try to help when I am home, as I have
a new job that allows me to continue homeschooling the kids.
Please pray for us all here and give Mom or Dad a call or email to encourage. We
will let you know further in awhile, if more help is needed. Thank you for your
prayers.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
yesterday marked 7 months since Brian went home to be with Jesus. it was a good day. i worked at the farm, went to a writer's group meeting, went to dinner with friends and my kids got to have a sleep over. for dinner, we went to our old favorite burger place, the buffalo inn in upland. that place brought back a lot of memories. and my friends and i talked about barbeque. Brian loved to grill. and he was so very good at it.
kind of strange though, i was driving home from my evening and i sensed that Brian was 'there'. 2 songs came on to the radio successively and both were songs that had been special to us. i was overwhelmed. i felt his presence strongly. i don't typically believe in that type of thing, but man, the sense was strong.
you know what else? Brian's dad came back in to town and the morning he arrived, there was a single bee hovering around his truck... not kidding! i haven't seen bees around here for awhile...
thank you, God, for the reminders and the triggers for memory...
kind of strange though, i was driving home from my evening and i sensed that Brian was 'there'. 2 songs came on to the radio successively and both were songs that had been special to us. i was overwhelmed. i felt his presence strongly. i don't typically believe in that type of thing, but man, the sense was strong.
you know what else? Brian's dad came back in to town and the morning he arrived, there was a single bee hovering around his truck... not kidding! i haven't seen bees around here for awhile...
thank you, God, for the reminders and the triggers for memory...
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter Sunday
i find that Holy Week is draining; no matter how many times i have lived through it, my anxiety about his crucifixion is undiminished -- i am terrified that, this year, it won’t happen; that, that year, it didn’t. anyone can be sentimental about the Nativity; any fool can feel like a Christian at Christmas. but Easter is the main event; if you don’t believe in the resurrection, you’re not a believer.
"if you don't believe in Easter," owen meany said, "don't kid yourself -- don't call yourself a Christian."
john irving, a prayer for owen meany, pp 250-251
this above quote comes from one of Brian's all-time favorite books. i can remember him laying in bed at night reading this book and just breaking out in unadulterated laughter. he would try to describe to me what was happening but it just wasn't the same as reading it for myself. and i never did. we never laughed about the incidences in the book together because i just hadn't read it -- experienced it -- for myself.
i kind of feel that way about Easter in prior years. this year, Easter takes on a whole new meaning for me and for Brian. before Brian's death, Easter was only a symbol of the fact that Jesus was my salvation. i don't think the reality of it had truly taken hold in my heart. yes, i believed. but did i live under the truth of it?
and for Brian, he is now living out his relationship with Jesus, his salvation, in a real way... he is with Him, celebrating new life.
this Easter day, i believe i am living under the truth of Christ's act and God's miracle because it is my umbrella of hope for my salvation from sin and certainty that i WILL be with Brian again some day in a heavenly place, free from all the pain and hardships of this world. my heart is holding on to it. Jesus conquering the grave is so profound, i fear i am unable to fully describe the intensity of feelings i have experienced today. Easter has become my new favorite holiday because of my life circumstances now. i believe it and i want my life to show it. i pray that all people will come to this realization and that God will make himself known to all...
...and he is, even today! a 7.2 magnitude quake hit Mexicali today. we felt it all the way up here! wake up world! Jesus has risen, conquered the grave and WILL return some day... SOON!
what a wonderful comfort knowing my Jesus can make the earth tremble, move mountains, calm seas and rise again... all for me [and for YOU!].
i pray that all will come into relationship with Him... he is our hope and salvation. and He is the One who has gotten me through the past 7 months and will continue to help me in the coming days, weeks, months, years... until he takes me home.
Happy Easter everyone!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
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