2013 has been one of the most difficult years of my life, and one with the most change.
In January, we were seriously struggling. My husband had been out of work for almost 9 months, and the couple of possible jobs he had been offered turned out to be horrible experiences that only destroyed his self-confidence more. We were relying on my measly teaching salary as our only income, which didn't cover our bills. We were going deeper into debt and having to rely on our families to help us cover our expenses. It was devastating to our morale. I would spend hours every day searching for and applying for jobs, for either of us, all to no avail.
By mid-February, I was getting desperate for extra work. I finally convinced my husband to let me email the director of our church's elementary school to ask if she needed substitute teachers. I had met her while working the sound board for a women's ministry event she spoke at, so I wrote her the email. Later that week, we picked up substitute applications for both of us and kept praying God would open doors for my husband. A few days later, the director emailed me again asking if I had any desire to interview for a temporary floater position that opened up on the preschool side when one staff member fell and broke her arm. I had never worked in a preschool, but we were desperate, so I said yes.
I was hired as a temporary full-time employee on February 21st. It was challenging, especially with my working two jobs and my husband still out of work. His depression was pretty deep, and I worried a lot about him. He was given the opportunity to sub numerous times, which was helpful for us both. We also realized that the director could be a good reference for future applications, which was a plus, since she thought he was phenomenal. After about six weeks, I was invited to stay on for the rest of the school year due to some staffing changes. Near the end of April, Mom fell and broke her leg right below the hip - the exact same spot my grandmother had broken six years ago. She had successful surgery, but we knew then that the cancer must be spreading again. We knew things wouldn't probably get any better this time. At the end of May, I was brought in to the joint school office and given a promotion. So for the summer, I was teaching online and working the closing shift at the school.
Around the time I transferred into the office, Mom and Dad made the decision to stop treatment and go into hospice care. The oncologist only kept suggesting aggressive chemo, but there was no real hope that it would prolong her life. The decision to go into hospice was not unexpected, and Mom was in relatively good spirits.
In July, I had finally convinced my husband to apply for some teaching jobs outside of our local district, because we were still seriously hurting for money to pay bills. He eventually was hired to teach high school English at a charter school in a poor part of town. He was scared and nervous about his ability to do the job well, but we knew we didn't really have any other options. It took forever for him to get to sign the paperwork - it was almost three weeks from his interview to the time that they asked him to come to the school to fill out hiring paperwork, then he had to apply for a different fingerprint clearance card (they made a special new category for teachers), etc. But he finally started work the last week of July.
The fall semester has been a busy one, and a challenging one. For the months of August and September, my husband would leave for work around 7 and not get home until around 6 or 6:30 p.m.; I would leave for work around 9:30 a.m. and not get home until around 7 p.m. And of course, I am still teaching online, so I'd have grading to do in the mornings and/or evenings most days. Cooking dinner was a serious challenge, as we both would want to rest and head to bed. Near the end of September, we got the call that Dad thought Mom was heading downhill. I had suspected that the cancer was in her head for a few months, because one of her eyes was not tracking any more; in photos, it looks like she was cross-eyed. Most likely the cancer was pushing her optical muscles, preventing her from seeing normally.
A few days after that phone call, in the midst of serious questioning as to whether I could get home in time to see her, I got a message from my brother, asking if I was okay. I thought that was especially sweet, since we rarely talk at all. While writing him back, I got another message telling me this person was sorry for my loss. My heart stopped when I realized that Mom must have died and no one had told me. A few minutes later, I got the confirmation. The world hasn't been the same since.
The next week was a blur, working, flying home, having Mom's funeral on my birthday, flying standby and having to wait an extra day to get back home. The next weekend, my husband and I had planned to head out of town for a long weekend, and my bosses were nice enough to let me go. The following weekend, we drove to my grandparents' (mom's parents) for their 70th wedding anniversary. October was very busy... In the midst of all of the craziness, my coworker left and I was promoted again; except this time, no one took my place in my old position, and so now I do everything for both positions without any help. It also meant a change in my shift, from closing to opening. So now I am up at 4:30 a.m. most mornings, at work by 5:30 a.m., and often don't end up being relieved so I can go home until I've worked far more than 8 hours. When I get home, then it's time to work on my teaching job, trying to stay on top of grading as my students submit their work. Needless to say, I'm pretty exhausted most days.
November was just exhausting for both of us, with work taking up pretty much all of our time. My in-laws came for Thanksgiving, and I was spending a lot of time at choir practice preparing for our cantata. December brought more work, two Sundays of singing (both at our home church and at the church we partnered with - the church my parents were members of when I was born), lots of time on worship team, and, finally, Christmas. Dad came out in November and spent some time with us before heading out to my grandmother's. He came back for the cantata, then headed to my mom's parents' and to see my brother. He came back again with Grandma for Christmas day, and now is finally on his way home.
As I sit here tonight, my husband is in the Midwest with his family; he flew out the day after Christmas. I've learned in the last two days that I can't fall asleep without him here. It's quiet and lonely here, so I've been trying to stay busy working on a puzzle, reading, playing a video game, etc. Today has been especially hard, with my husband gone, a huge migraine that began by 1 p.m. and hasn't gone away yet, and the fact that today would have been my parents' 40th wedding anniversary.
2013 has been a hard, hard, hard year. I'm grateful for God's provision through all of it. I'm especially grateful that I had six days shy of 32 years with my mom. But I'm ready for a fresh start. I'm ready to say goodbye to this year and start 2014 new. God says that He is making all things new - I need to embrace the new, find my place again.
Goodbye, 2013. May 2014 find us healthier, happier, and closer to God.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Christmas Gifts
If you are struggling to decide what to do for your loved ones this
Christmas, I'd like to propose that you do something for others in their
honor in place of traditional gifting of things. I have three
organizations that I love that would truly make a difference in the
world. Each of these organizations has a Christmas Gift Catalog on
their website:
1) Compassion International - http://www.compassion.com/catalog
Some of my favorite gifts that will go to needy families around the world:
**Safe Water for Life - for $79, give a water filtration system that can provide enough clean water for an entire village for over 60 years. Yes, you read that right - for over 6 decades, with simple maintenance.
**Care for an infant for one year - for $55, provide medical care for a new child for the first year of life.
**Provide Shelter / Support - for $42, provide shelter, food, and clothing for an orphan or abused or exploited child for one month.
Or, of course, you could sponsor a child for $32 a month and help provide food, education, and love each month.
2) Gospel for Asia - http://www.gfa.org/gift
This was my Mom's favorite charity, and so I just donated in her memory for Christmas. Some of my favorites:
**A pair of Rabbits - for only $11, provide a pair of rabbits that will be a source of income and food for years.
**A pair of Pigs - for $65, provide a pair of pigs that can produce up to 20 piglets a year; each piglet will grow to be over 200 lbs within 5 months, and will be a source of long-term income and food for a family.
**Provide for widows and orphans - for $75, help missionaries provide for widows (who are often blamed for their husbands' deaths in SE Asia) and orphans
**Mosquito nets - for just $10, you can provide netting that will protect a family against mosquitos, helping to prevent malaria and even death.
Or you could sponsor a child for $35 a month, or sponsor a missionary for $30 a month.
3) World Vision - http://www.worldvisiongifts.org
I received their catalog this last week, and used to sponsor a child with Mom when I was a kid. Some of the more interesting gifts here:
**Drought-resistant seeds - for just $17, you can provide a family with hybrid or drought-resistant seeds to help stave off famine and starvation.
**Multiplying gifts: World Vision partners with companies that agree to multiply your donation by a certain amount. A couple that I like a lot are:
*****Life-saving Medicines and supplies - you give $60, they multiply it by 10 to provide $600 worth of supplies.
*****Clothing - you give $50, they multiply it by 10 to provide $500 worth of clothes
**Help sexually exploited girls - for $35, help provide food, safe shelter, counseling, medical care, and vocational training to women and girls rescued from human trafficking.
Or you could sponsor a child for around $35 a month.
Mom felt strongly about the importance of blessing others when God has blessed us. My pastor quoted someone a few weeks ago in his sermon: "Do for one person what you wish you could do for everyone."
This Christmas, will you join me in doing for at least one family in need what I wish we could do for every family?
1) Compassion International - http://www.compassion.com/catalog
Some of my favorite gifts that will go to needy families around the world:
**Safe Water for Life - for $79, give a water filtration system that can provide enough clean water for an entire village for over 60 years. Yes, you read that right - for over 6 decades, with simple maintenance.
**Care for an infant for one year - for $55, provide medical care for a new child for the first year of life.
**Provide Shelter / Support - for $42, provide shelter, food, and clothing for an orphan or abused or exploited child for one month.
Or, of course, you could sponsor a child for $32 a month and help provide food, education, and love each month.
2) Gospel for Asia - http://www.gfa.org/gift
This was my Mom's favorite charity, and so I just donated in her memory for Christmas. Some of my favorites:
**A pair of Rabbits - for only $11, provide a pair of rabbits that will be a source of income and food for years.
**A pair of Pigs - for $65, provide a pair of pigs that can produce up to 20 piglets a year; each piglet will grow to be over 200 lbs within 5 months, and will be a source of long-term income and food for a family.
**Provide for widows and orphans - for $75, help missionaries provide for widows (who are often blamed for their husbands' deaths in SE Asia) and orphans
**Mosquito nets - for just $10, you can provide netting that will protect a family against mosquitos, helping to prevent malaria and even death.
Or you could sponsor a child for $35 a month, or sponsor a missionary for $30 a month.
3) World Vision - http://www.worldvisiongifts.org
I received their catalog this last week, and used to sponsor a child with Mom when I was a kid. Some of the more interesting gifts here:
**Drought-resistant seeds - for just $17, you can provide a family with hybrid or drought-resistant seeds to help stave off famine and starvation.
**Multiplying gifts: World Vision partners with companies that agree to multiply your donation by a certain amount. A couple that I like a lot are:
*****Life-saving Medicines and supplies - you give $60, they multiply it by 10 to provide $600 worth of supplies.
*****Clothing - you give $50, they multiply it by 10 to provide $500 worth of clothes
**Help sexually exploited girls - for $35, help provide food, safe shelter, counseling, medical care, and vocational training to women and girls rescued from human trafficking.
Or you could sponsor a child for around $35 a month.
Mom felt strongly about the importance of blessing others when God has blessed us. My pastor quoted someone a few weeks ago in his sermon: "Do for one person what you wish you could do for everyone."
This Christmas, will you join me in doing for at least one family in need what I wish we could do for every family?
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Grief is hard
Grief is hard.
It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, overwhelming you and threatening to bring all else to a standstill. The things that bring grief to the surface are not always what you'd expect, and some things that you'd think would spark an outpouring leave you nothing but numb.
In the past two months, things that have brought me to me knees with grief have been as varied as the stars, my cell phone, hearing a certain person singing, folding laundry, and discussing Christmas decorations and traditions. Over Thanksgiving, I started sobbing while folding laundry because it reminded me of my mom laughing every year because her mother always sent her (and Mom's siblings) underwear. Mom used to laugh and joke about it, because she was over 50 and still getting socks and underwear from her mother. I was a wreck because I was folding underwear, but Mom wouldn't ever do that again.
I never know when the grief will strike.
The holiday season is really difficult for me this year. My in-laws were here for Thanksgiving, and I tried so hard to get into the spirit, since it was always my favorite holiday. But I think I wasn't that great of a host, between work, migraines, and grief. It just wasn't the same.
I haven't got into the Christmas spirit at all. It just hurts. Looking at everyone's decorations reminds me of Mom's decorations. Looking at Christmas lights in the neighborhoods brings back memories of all the years driving around on Christmas Eve because Mom loved it so.
I'm going to be alone for a week right after Christmas, and I'm not looking forward to it. Time alone is time that I normally would have been on the phone talking to Mom. I don't do well alone these days.
I know Mom is perfect and happy. But it hurts so much to have lost my mother and my best friend.
As I said, grief is hard.
It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, overwhelming you and threatening to bring all else to a standstill. The things that bring grief to the surface are not always what you'd expect, and some things that you'd think would spark an outpouring leave you nothing but numb.
In the past two months, things that have brought me to me knees with grief have been as varied as the stars, my cell phone, hearing a certain person singing, folding laundry, and discussing Christmas decorations and traditions. Over Thanksgiving, I started sobbing while folding laundry because it reminded me of my mom laughing every year because her mother always sent her (and Mom's siblings) underwear. Mom used to laugh and joke about it, because she was over 50 and still getting socks and underwear from her mother. I was a wreck because I was folding underwear, but Mom wouldn't ever do that again.
I never know when the grief will strike.
The holiday season is really difficult for me this year. My in-laws were here for Thanksgiving, and I tried so hard to get into the spirit, since it was always my favorite holiday. But I think I wasn't that great of a host, between work, migraines, and grief. It just wasn't the same.
I haven't got into the Christmas spirit at all. It just hurts. Looking at everyone's decorations reminds me of Mom's decorations. Looking at Christmas lights in the neighborhoods brings back memories of all the years driving around on Christmas Eve because Mom loved it so.
I'm going to be alone for a week right after Christmas, and I'm not looking forward to it. Time alone is time that I normally would have been on the phone talking to Mom. I don't do well alone these days.
I know Mom is perfect and happy. But it hurts so much to have lost my mother and my best friend.
As I said, grief is hard.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Musings
It's been exactly 6 weeks since my mom left this life to be with God.
I wish I could say that it's gotten easier, but it hasn't. I routinely burst into uncontrollable sobs at the drop of a hat. I couldn't handle sitting through a church service for pretty much the whole month of October. Today was our first day back in church since October 6th. (Granted, we were out of town two weekends in row, but still missed church two other weeks.)
I managed to get through church without sobbing, which was excellent, especially considering I was singing in the choir and playing piano for all three services.
I feel like I go from being so wholly overwhelmed by grief to being so busy that I can't think of anything but the task at hand. Two weeks after I got home from Mom's funeral, my co-worker at the school announced she was leaving for a new job. I was offered the promotion into the administrative assistant/office manager position, and after talking it over with my husband, accepted it. That left me with exactly 3.5 days to train before my coworker left. I've been in the position for exactly two weeks and have been completely exhausted by it. I hardly ever get to see my husband, since he doesn't get home until 6:30 most days, and I'm brain-dead by that point. We are definitely going through a rough adjustment period. The upside to all of this is that I'm too busy to spend the whole day sobbing. But I am more than happy to have the day off tomorrow.
We're heading into what is usually my favorite time of year - Thanksgiving. I confess that I'm having trouble getting excited about the holidays this year. It just doesn't seem the same without Mom. I don't know what it will be like to not be able to call her and talk about dinner menus and cooking techniques and football and whatever else we'd end up discussing.
I am not looking forward to the holidays without Mom, but I definitely want to honor her this winter. I just made my Wish List on Compassion International's website. Every year, they have a gift catalog to help those who are in most need of help. The last couple of years, my parents and I did not give each other gifts, but chose gifts through Compassion or Gospel for Asia in each other's honor instead.
I'm hoping that anyone who wants to honor my Mom's memory will choose to give instead of receive this year. Think of all the good we can do, all those we could help if we'd be willing to give up our own gifts and help provide medical care, food, clean water, shelter, education, and disaster relief for the least of these!
If you are interested, please click here: http://wishlist.compassion.com/rja2013_list
And hug your loved ones, remember to tell them you love them.
I wish I could say that it's gotten easier, but it hasn't. I routinely burst into uncontrollable sobs at the drop of a hat. I couldn't handle sitting through a church service for pretty much the whole month of October. Today was our first day back in church since October 6th. (Granted, we were out of town two weekends in row, but still missed church two other weeks.)
I managed to get through church without sobbing, which was excellent, especially considering I was singing in the choir and playing piano for all three services.
I feel like I go from being so wholly overwhelmed by grief to being so busy that I can't think of anything but the task at hand. Two weeks after I got home from Mom's funeral, my co-worker at the school announced she was leaving for a new job. I was offered the promotion into the administrative assistant/office manager position, and after talking it over with my husband, accepted it. That left me with exactly 3.5 days to train before my coworker left. I've been in the position for exactly two weeks and have been completely exhausted by it. I hardly ever get to see my husband, since he doesn't get home until 6:30 most days, and I'm brain-dead by that point. We are definitely going through a rough adjustment period. The upside to all of this is that I'm too busy to spend the whole day sobbing. But I am more than happy to have the day off tomorrow.
We're heading into what is usually my favorite time of year - Thanksgiving. I confess that I'm having trouble getting excited about the holidays this year. It just doesn't seem the same without Mom. I don't know what it will be like to not be able to call her and talk about dinner menus and cooking techniques and football and whatever else we'd end up discussing.
I am not looking forward to the holidays without Mom, but I definitely want to honor her this winter. I just made my Wish List on Compassion International's website. Every year, they have a gift catalog to help those who are in most need of help. The last couple of years, my parents and I did not give each other gifts, but chose gifts through Compassion or Gospel for Asia in each other's honor instead.
I'm hoping that anyone who wants to honor my Mom's memory will choose to give instead of receive this year. Think of all the good we can do, all those we could help if we'd be willing to give up our own gifts and help provide medical care, food, clean water, shelter, education, and disaster relief for the least of these!
If you are interested, please click here: http://wishlist.compassion.com/rja2013_list
And hug your loved ones, remember to tell them you love them.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Not really lost
My mom left this world and entered heaven at 8:48 p.m. on Sunday, September 29th. It was both unbearably expected and yet completely sudden.
I still am struggling to realize that the phone call I made the day before was the last time Mom heard my voice before she left. I told her that we were okay, and that I loved her with all my heart. But I still wish I could have talked to her one more time.
My husband and I flew back East three days later, thanks in no small part to our church family here, which supported us by helping us obtain stand-by tickets for about 1/4 the regular price; one couple taking care of our kitties while we were gone, combining to give us around $300 in cash to help us with "incidentals," and the church offered to pay our mortgage for this month so we could use the money to get home. We were wholly overwhelmed by the generosity of all involved.
Being home was hard. It was hard staying in the house without Mom in it. It was hard seeing all of the things that Mom had bought me over the years - like the stuffed animals she would get me when we went on a trip together or for special occasions, books that we had read together, so many memories filling the entire house. I tried to do what I could, cooking my best casserole for the entire family for lunch on Thursday. It was nice to spend time with the extended family, but sad as well.
Thank goodness for baseball. It served as our escape most days.
The service was on my birthday. It was an oddly surreal experience. My brother wasn't able to be there, so I called his conference number at work, put my phone on the podium where the minister would be, and he listened in for the entire service. I tried not to sob, but I couldn't stop for most of the service. I had to tell a few of Mom's closest friends things that I thought she would want them to know. I barely got through that.
The world isn't the same. It's a bit skewed, suddenly. My beloved desert wasn't quite as beautiful. Food just doesn't taste quite as delicious. I find I look at the stars more often, but instead of thinking of the majesty of God's creative work, I wonder what Mom might be doing in heaven. I find it hard to concentrate on, well, anything.
I know I'll see her again. I know that she is perfect. I know that she is in perfect joy with her Savior. I know where she is. In that way, she's not truly "lost." But she's far away.
But I'm selfish, and want to call her and hear her laugh and tell her how much I love her. I miss her every minute. And now I have to figure out how to move forward without her advice and humor and love to guide me.
I still am struggling to realize that the phone call I made the day before was the last time Mom heard my voice before she left. I told her that we were okay, and that I loved her with all my heart. But I still wish I could have talked to her one more time.
My husband and I flew back East three days later, thanks in no small part to our church family here, which supported us by helping us obtain stand-by tickets for about 1/4 the regular price; one couple taking care of our kitties while we were gone, combining to give us around $300 in cash to help us with "incidentals," and the church offered to pay our mortgage for this month so we could use the money to get home. We were wholly overwhelmed by the generosity of all involved.
Being home was hard. It was hard staying in the house without Mom in it. It was hard seeing all of the things that Mom had bought me over the years - like the stuffed animals she would get me when we went on a trip together or for special occasions, books that we had read together, so many memories filling the entire house. I tried to do what I could, cooking my best casserole for the entire family for lunch on Thursday. It was nice to spend time with the extended family, but sad as well.
Thank goodness for baseball. It served as our escape most days.
The service was on my birthday. It was an oddly surreal experience. My brother wasn't able to be there, so I called his conference number at work, put my phone on the podium where the minister would be, and he listened in for the entire service. I tried not to sob, but I couldn't stop for most of the service. I had to tell a few of Mom's closest friends things that I thought she would want them to know. I barely got through that.
The world isn't the same. It's a bit skewed, suddenly. My beloved desert wasn't quite as beautiful. Food just doesn't taste quite as delicious. I find I look at the stars more often, but instead of thinking of the majesty of God's creative work, I wonder what Mom might be doing in heaven. I find it hard to concentrate on, well, anything.
I know I'll see her again. I know that she is perfect. I know that she is in perfect joy with her Savior. I know where she is. In that way, she's not truly "lost." But she's far away.
But I'm selfish, and want to call her and hear her laugh and tell her how much I love her. I miss her every minute. And now I have to figure out how to move forward without her advice and humor and love to guide me.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Nearing the end
Last night, about 30 minutes after I got home, just after my husband and I finished our late dinner, my phone rang. I knew immediately it wasn't good news, because it was my dad calling. And considering that it was around 10:30 p.m. Eastern, my heart just sank.
Dad told me that it looks like my mom's cancer fight is nearing its end. She is rarely awake for more than a few minutes, is barely eating or drinking, and gets very agitated when asleep, crying out for her mom often. The hospice nurse doesn't expect that Mom will be with us for more than a few weeks.
I had thought that, seeing as how I have been bracing myself for this part of Mom's journey for four years (the four-year mark of hearing the word "cancer" is on Wednesday) that it would be easier, less painful.
I was wrong. The long, slow trudge toward the end is no less painful, no less devastating because I knew it was coming.
Please pray for us.
Dad told me that it looks like my mom's cancer fight is nearing its end. She is rarely awake for more than a few minutes, is barely eating or drinking, and gets very agitated when asleep, crying out for her mom often. The hospice nurse doesn't expect that Mom will be with us for more than a few weeks.
I had thought that, seeing as how I have been bracing myself for this part of Mom's journey for four years (the four-year mark of hearing the word "cancer" is on Wednesday) that it would be easier, less painful.
I was wrong. The long, slow trudge toward the end is no less painful, no less devastating because I knew it was coming.
Please pray for us.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Wisdom
"If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." ~James 1:5
Wisdom is one of those things that we desperately need right now. Everything just seems so uncertain. The biggest question in my mind right now is: when do I need to go be with Mom? It's not an easy question to answer. My brother, grandparents, uncle, as well as another aunt & cousin have all gone to see Mom since she went on hospice care. I'm one of the only ones to not be there at all.
I live a good 3 days' drive or one long day of at least two flights away. I don't have any vacation time and don't really have any personal time to speak of for job #1/2, and we don't have the ability financially to go anyway. So the question becomes: do I go now while Mom's still aware and still has time left, or do I have to wait until it's the very end to say goodbye? I have no idea what to do.
From what I have gathered from Dad, Mom is definitely in a decline. The hospice nurse confirmed that Dad was seeing what he thinks he was seeing. Obviously no one can say, "that means you have exactly 4 weeks left," but she did confirm that it looked like Mom was starting the stage where patients begin to withdraw and food becomes less important, and the weakness is bad enough that she can't get up and down or walk on her own any more.
This has sent me into a bit of an emotional tailspin. I read a short booklet (really, a long pamphlet, as it was only about 16 pages long) that called what I'm experiencing "Anticipatory or Expected Grief." Apparently, it's common for families living with a family member in hospice care. It's exactly what it sounds like - grieving for the expected loss before it actually occurs. The pamphlet described it well - rehearsing the death of your loved one in your mind, feeling intense guilt because society expects that you only grieve for a short time after the fact, experiencing all the physical symptoms of grief but feeling a need to hide the pain for fear of others thinking that you somehow want your loved one to be gone already, and questioning how you will move forward after the eventual loss.
The pamphlet didn't really give me any ways to cope with this grief - which I've been dealing with for just under four years now. (It will be four years since we first heard the diagnosis of "cancer" on October 3rd; it will be four years since the diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer on October 16th.) But at least it made me feel like I'm not completely insane... says the woman who completely broke down within the first five minutes of our church service this morning and spent most of the sermon trying to recover her composure.
Anyway, wisdom is definitely needed these days.
Wisdom is one of those things that we desperately need right now. Everything just seems so uncertain. The biggest question in my mind right now is: when do I need to go be with Mom? It's not an easy question to answer. My brother, grandparents, uncle, as well as another aunt & cousin have all gone to see Mom since she went on hospice care. I'm one of the only ones to not be there at all.
I live a good 3 days' drive or one long day of at least two flights away. I don't have any vacation time and don't really have any personal time to speak of for job #1/2, and we don't have the ability financially to go anyway. So the question becomes: do I go now while Mom's still aware and still has time left, or do I have to wait until it's the very end to say goodbye? I have no idea what to do.
From what I have gathered from Dad, Mom is definitely in a decline. The hospice nurse confirmed that Dad was seeing what he thinks he was seeing. Obviously no one can say, "that means you have exactly 4 weeks left," but she did confirm that it looked like Mom was starting the stage where patients begin to withdraw and food becomes less important, and the weakness is bad enough that she can't get up and down or walk on her own any more.
This has sent me into a bit of an emotional tailspin. I read a short booklet (really, a long pamphlet, as it was only about 16 pages long) that called what I'm experiencing "Anticipatory or Expected Grief." Apparently, it's common for families living with a family member in hospice care. It's exactly what it sounds like - grieving for the expected loss before it actually occurs. The pamphlet described it well - rehearsing the death of your loved one in your mind, feeling intense guilt because society expects that you only grieve for a short time after the fact, experiencing all the physical symptoms of grief but feeling a need to hide the pain for fear of others thinking that you somehow want your loved one to be gone already, and questioning how you will move forward after the eventual loss.
The pamphlet didn't really give me any ways to cope with this grief - which I've been dealing with for just under four years now. (It will be four years since we first heard the diagnosis of "cancer" on October 3rd; it will be four years since the diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer on October 16th.) But at least it made me feel like I'm not completely insane... says the woman who completely broke down within the first five minutes of our church service this morning and spent most of the sermon trying to recover her composure.
Anyway, wisdom is definitely needed these days.
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