When Mother was in the nursing home, one of the things she wanted more than anything was to get her hair permed. As far back as I remember, she always had her hair permed. About a year before she died, she had her hair cut very short and wore it straight. She never liked it that way though. She was used to her curls and longed to have them back again. Her hair had finally grown enough to get a perm, but by then, she was in too much pain to have it done. Her nursing home roommate got her hair done every week and Mother couldn't wait to have hers done again. Once she had the injection in her hip and her pain subsided, she planned to get a perm.
When I was little, Mother would go to the "beauty operator" to get her perms. I don't know where the term beauty operator came from, but it always sounded to me like you needed surgery to become beautiful. (The older I get, there are many mornings when I look in the mirror and think I could use a beauty operator, in that sense.) Another funny thing to me was the name of the beauty operator my mom went to. Her name was Achsa. It was pronounced "Ax-uh". It's the only person I ever knew of named that. To me, her name was ironic for her profession. It sounded to me like she would axe your hair off. Not to mention, a beauty operator performing surgery with an ax didn't sound like a good mix to me. I'm sure that I met Achsa at some point, but I don't remember her. Mother loved her and I am sure she was wonderful. Mother always looked great when she came home from getting a perm there. Achsa died a few years before my mom at the age of 97.
Between perms, Mother would give her hair a boost by putting pin curls in it. Every saturday night, she'd wash her hair and then carefully twist small sections of hair around her finger. She'd pull her finger out of the curl and use a bobby pin to hold the section of hair down. In no time at all, she'd have all her hair pinned. She would sleep with the bobby pins in her hair and in the morning she'd pop them out and have beautifully curly hair for church.
When Achsa retired from beauty operating, Mother started going to a woman named Joanne. She had a hair salon in the basement of her house. As my mom got older and was no longer able to make it up and down the steps at Joanne's, she started going to see a hair stylist named Jeanie. Several other members of our family, including my dad had gone to Jeanie for years. It was easier for Mother to get in and out of that salon and she was still able to get her perms.
When it started to get hard for my dad to get around, Jeanie would come out to the farm to give him haircuts. I know doctors used to make house calls, but a hairstylist/barber/beauty operator? Jeanie was so sweet to do this and I no it meant the world to Mother and Daddy.
Jeanie was going to give Mother her perm in the nursing home once her pain subsided. But, the pain came back too quickly and Mother ended up in hospice. I kept thinking that Mother would hate the way her straight hair looked at her funeral. I know it's kind of a weird thing to worry about, but you think of all kinds of weird things when you watch your loved one dying.
When we met with Jeff (the funeral director) after Mother died, we told him how Mother had wanted a perm. Jeff said he was sure that Jeanie would do Mother's hair for her one last time. She did a fabulous job. Mother's hair looked beautiful. It was no longer the straight hair that she disliked. It had soft curls and looked wonderful. I know that Mother would have been very happy. Her only disappointment would have been not being able to tell Jeanie how much it meant to her. Don't worry, Mother, we told her for you.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Summer Nights
We have been busy running our kids to softball and baseball practices and games in the past several weeks. Every Monday through Thursday there is at least one game. With three kids, Eric and I are out-numbered, and figuring out a plan to get each kid where they need to be becomes a challenge at times. Trying to schedule a time for us to eat supper together as a family is difficult too. I know our family is not the only one in this situation. And the fun of watching our kids play ball is well worth all the running and we do.
It sure is different than what summer nights were like growing up on the farm. As farm kids, we never played any sports during the summer (or any time of year for that matter). During haying season, we would unload hay well into evening chore time. This pushed chores back later, which in turn pushed supper even later. There were many summer nights when we ate supper at 8:30 or 9:00 pm. I'm sure my mom never knew what time to have supper ready.
I do see some things from the summer nights of my childhood have carried over into the summer nights of our kids lives. Our kids join in with the neighbors to play Capture the Flag or Night Games. When we were kids, we Betz kids loved to play Hope To See The Ghost Tonight when it got dark outside. I can still hear, "One o'clock, two o'clock....midnight, moonlight, starlight, hope to see the ghost tonight." There were many dark and spooky places to hide on the farm. Just thinking about it makes my heart beat a little faster. Another favorite game of ours was one that most people call Kick The Can. The Betz kids were a bit more creative in their name for this game. I'm not sure where our original name of Tippy, Tippy, Tin Can came from, but I know that after calling it that for quite some time, we changed the name. One night, the can we used for the game was a baked bean can. Someone (I think Charlie) then changed the name of the game to Tippy, Tippy, Fart Can! That name stuck for the rest of childhood.
As we played these games, Mother and Daddy would often sit on the front step of the house with a huge bowl of popcorn. Of course this was before the time of microwave popcorn (or even microwaves) or air poppers. We made the popcorn the old fashioned way: a pan on the stove with oil and popcorn kernals. You covered the pan and as soon as you heard a kernal pop, you shook the pan like crazy until all popping stopped. Then of course we drenched the popcorn with melted butter and salt. Yum!
The nights of playing games and having popcorn on the front steps are some of my favorite childhood memories. In my mind, we did this almost every night. When I think back realistically, I know that it probably wasn't nearly that often. Perhaps this shows how much those nights meant to me.
Sunday nights in the summer were different. After supper, Mother and Daddy loved to go for their Sunday evening drive. I remember Mike and I loved to tag along. Honestly, we hated the actual drive part. We had an ulterior motive: the root beer stand. Mike and I would sit in the back seat of the car and complain about how long the ride was taking. Dusty gravel roads that went by the farms of people we didn't know held no interest for us. But the possibility of getting root beer was worth the agony of enduring the Sunday evening drive. The A&W Root Beer Stand stood where the Kwik Trip in Caledonia now stands. A couple times during each summer, Mother and Daddy would take us there for supper. Maybe we led a sheltered childhood or maybe things were just different back then, but to us supper at the rootbeer stand was a treat. We'd park the car right next to a board that had the menu listed. When we were ready to order, we pushed a button that turned on a light on our board. That magically made our waitress appear to take our order. After much complaining that our food was taking forever, the same waitress would carry out a tray with our food and drinks. She would hang it on the driver's window of the car. Our drinks came in A&W mugs made of real glass. I remember when we actually ate supper there, I always ordered the orange drink. When we were done eating, we pushed another button on the menu board which alerted the waitress to come and pick up our tray. What clever inventions the 1970's had.
But on Sunday evening drives, it was root beer we craved. It always seemed that near the end of the drive, our car always approached Caledonia. When we were a couple blocks aways from the root beer stand, Mike and I would start saying, "Blink, blink, blink, blink....." This was our way of letting Mother and Daddy know that we would really like to stop for root beer, so they should start signaling their intent to turn into the root beer stand. As if they didn't already know that was the only reason we even rode along with them. I don't remember them ever not stopping, but still, each time it seemed like a real possibility that they wouldn't. The best part of getting root beer on those Sunday nights was the amount we got. On those nights, we didn't use the outdoor menu board and get glasses of root beer. Instead, Mother or Daddy would go inside with a glass gallon bottle and have it filled. We would then take it back to the farm where everyone enjoyed a glass of root beer or even a root beer float. There was one Sunday night root beer run that I will never forget. As we walked in the door of the farm house, someone set the gallon full of root beer on the counter. As soon as it touched the counter, the bottle shattered. Sticky root beer and glass covered the counter and floor. It appeared our night was ruined. But never fear, someone was sent back to A&W to get another gallon while the rest of us stayed home and cleaned up the sticky mess. As I recall, the root beer stand gave us a free gallon of root beer and told us that we should open the bottle slightly in the car to let some of the pressure escape. They thought the pressure caused the bottle to burst when it touched the counter. It seems to me that shortly after that, we started getting our root beer in plastic bottles.
As an adult, whenever I've looked back and remembered those Sunday evening drives, I always think that Mike and I must have annoyed the heck out of Mother and Daddy with our insistent "blink, blink, blink". But this time, another thought ocurred to me. Maybe they took us along on the ride so that they had an excuse to stop at the A&W. Maybe the root beer stand was their plan all along. Maybe they loved root beer as much as we did. Maybe they would have turned into the root beer stand even without our subtle hint of "blink, blink, blink."
These days, our kids beg for us to take them to Dairy Queen or other ice cream shops. Maybe we'll have to take a Sunday evening drive and buy some root beer. Maybe after that they can play a game of Tippy, Tippy Fart Can.
It sure is different than what summer nights were like growing up on the farm. As farm kids, we never played any sports during the summer (or any time of year for that matter). During haying season, we would unload hay well into evening chore time. This pushed chores back later, which in turn pushed supper even later. There were many summer nights when we ate supper at 8:30 or 9:00 pm. I'm sure my mom never knew what time to have supper ready.
I do see some things from the summer nights of my childhood have carried over into the summer nights of our kids lives. Our kids join in with the neighbors to play Capture the Flag or Night Games. When we were kids, we Betz kids loved to play Hope To See The Ghost Tonight when it got dark outside. I can still hear, "One o'clock, two o'clock....midnight, moonlight, starlight, hope to see the ghost tonight." There were many dark and spooky places to hide on the farm. Just thinking about it makes my heart beat a little faster. Another favorite game of ours was one that most people call Kick The Can. The Betz kids were a bit more creative in their name for this game. I'm not sure where our original name of Tippy, Tippy, Tin Can came from, but I know that after calling it that for quite some time, we changed the name. One night, the can we used for the game was a baked bean can. Someone (I think Charlie) then changed the name of the game to Tippy, Tippy, Fart Can! That name stuck for the rest of childhood.
As we played these games, Mother and Daddy would often sit on the front step of the house with a huge bowl of popcorn. Of course this was before the time of microwave popcorn (or even microwaves) or air poppers. We made the popcorn the old fashioned way: a pan on the stove with oil and popcorn kernals. You covered the pan and as soon as you heard a kernal pop, you shook the pan like crazy until all popping stopped. Then of course we drenched the popcorn with melted butter and salt. Yum!
The nights of playing games and having popcorn on the front steps are some of my favorite childhood memories. In my mind, we did this almost every night. When I think back realistically, I know that it probably wasn't nearly that often. Perhaps this shows how much those nights meant to me.
Sunday nights in the summer were different. After supper, Mother and Daddy loved to go for their Sunday evening drive. I remember Mike and I loved to tag along. Honestly, we hated the actual drive part. We had an ulterior motive: the root beer stand. Mike and I would sit in the back seat of the car and complain about how long the ride was taking. Dusty gravel roads that went by the farms of people we didn't know held no interest for us. But the possibility of getting root beer was worth the agony of enduring the Sunday evening drive. The A&W Root Beer Stand stood where the Kwik Trip in Caledonia now stands. A couple times during each summer, Mother and Daddy would take us there for supper. Maybe we led a sheltered childhood or maybe things were just different back then, but to us supper at the rootbeer stand was a treat. We'd park the car right next to a board that had the menu listed. When we were ready to order, we pushed a button that turned on a light on our board. That magically made our waitress appear to take our order. After much complaining that our food was taking forever, the same waitress would carry out a tray with our food and drinks. She would hang it on the driver's window of the car. Our drinks came in A&W mugs made of real glass. I remember when we actually ate supper there, I always ordered the orange drink. When we were done eating, we pushed another button on the menu board which alerted the waitress to come and pick up our tray. What clever inventions the 1970's had.
But on Sunday evening drives, it was root beer we craved. It always seemed that near the end of the drive, our car always approached Caledonia. When we were a couple blocks aways from the root beer stand, Mike and I would start saying, "Blink, blink, blink, blink....." This was our way of letting Mother and Daddy know that we would really like to stop for root beer, so they should start signaling their intent to turn into the root beer stand. As if they didn't already know that was the only reason we even rode along with them. I don't remember them ever not stopping, but still, each time it seemed like a real possibility that they wouldn't. The best part of getting root beer on those Sunday nights was the amount we got. On those nights, we didn't use the outdoor menu board and get glasses of root beer. Instead, Mother or Daddy would go inside with a glass gallon bottle and have it filled. We would then take it back to the farm where everyone enjoyed a glass of root beer or even a root beer float. There was one Sunday night root beer run that I will never forget. As we walked in the door of the farm house, someone set the gallon full of root beer on the counter. As soon as it touched the counter, the bottle shattered. Sticky root beer and glass covered the counter and floor. It appeared our night was ruined. But never fear, someone was sent back to A&W to get another gallon while the rest of us stayed home and cleaned up the sticky mess. As I recall, the root beer stand gave us a free gallon of root beer and told us that we should open the bottle slightly in the car to let some of the pressure escape. They thought the pressure caused the bottle to burst when it touched the counter. It seems to me that shortly after that, we started getting our root beer in plastic bottles.
As an adult, whenever I've looked back and remembered those Sunday evening drives, I always think that Mike and I must have annoyed the heck out of Mother and Daddy with our insistent "blink, blink, blink". But this time, another thought ocurred to me. Maybe they took us along on the ride so that they had an excuse to stop at the A&W. Maybe the root beer stand was their plan all along. Maybe they loved root beer as much as we did. Maybe they would have turned into the root beer stand even without our subtle hint of "blink, blink, blink."
These days, our kids beg for us to take them to Dairy Queen or other ice cream shops. Maybe we'll have to take a Sunday evening drive and buy some root beer. Maybe after that they can play a game of Tippy, Tippy Fart Can.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Solstice
Yesterday was the summer solstice, sometimes referred to as longest day of the year, because it is the day we experience the most daylight during the year. That got me thinking. In 2011, the summer solstice was on June 21. On the 19th, when Mother died, the total time of daylight was 15 hours, 36 minutes and 46 seconds. This is only 8 seconds less daylight than we had on the summer solstice. When Mother died, it hit me that the date was Danielle's half birthday. Dani was born on Dec 19, 1996. In 1996, the winter solstice, or shortest day of the year was Dec 21. The day Danielle was born, we only had 8 hours, 46 minutes and 16 seconds of daylight. This was only 8 seconds more than the winter solstice.
It is quite ironic to me that Danielle was born just shy of the shortest day of the year and Mother died just shy of the longest day of the year. It seems it should have been the other way around. Try telling a woman (me) who was in labor for 35 hours and then ended up having a c-section that it's the shortest day of the year. No matter how little daylight there was that day (or rather days), it was anything but the shortest day for me. All I wanted was to finally meet my baby. (Well, that and to have the pain of labor end!) In the same sense, tell a woman (me again) whose mother is dying, that because it's the summer solstice, it is the longest day of the year. When you know that every second counts and every breath could be her last, it feels like the day is speeding by. Her sunset was coming all too fast, regardless of how much daylight there was that day.
Now in reality, I know that there are 24 hours in day, every day, regardless of the amount of daylight. I looked up the word solstice and what I found intrigued me. The word comes from the combination of two Latin words that basically mean "sun" and "stand still". Here is what I read: "For a few days before and after the solstice the change in position of the sunrise is so slight that the sun appears to stop or stand still for a few days..."
For a brand new mom looking at her baby, time does seem to stand still. It is a moment so incredible, so breath taking that everything else around you fades into the background. All you can focus on is that little miraculous bundle. Even if there was less daylight that day than on any other day of the year, it made no difference to me. There could be no sunlight brighter than looking at my sweet little baby.
In the same way and yet so incredibly different, time also seems to stand still when you lose a loved one. When Mother died, nothing else mattered. I couldn't focus on anything beyond the devastating loss I felt. The daily routine around me faded into the background. No matter how many hours of daylight there were, I was consumed in the darkness of grief. I remember for weeks, maybe months, after Mother's death that I could be outside in the sunshine and yet nothing appeared as bright to me as usual.
Still, there are 24 hours in a day. The sun shines as brightly as ever. I know it is all about perspective, all about how I choose to look at things. Instead of thinking about what I lost the day Mother died, I should focus on what she gained. Then it makes more sense that she died near the summer solstice. Her soul is in Heaven for eternity, where God's light is never ending. Maybe instead of referring to June 19, 2011 as Mother's death date, I should call that day her "summer soul-stice".
It is quite ironic to me that Danielle was born just shy of the shortest day of the year and Mother died just shy of the longest day of the year. It seems it should have been the other way around. Try telling a woman (me) who was in labor for 35 hours and then ended up having a c-section that it's the shortest day of the year. No matter how little daylight there was that day (or rather days), it was anything but the shortest day for me. All I wanted was to finally meet my baby. (Well, that and to have the pain of labor end!) In the same sense, tell a woman (me again) whose mother is dying, that because it's the summer solstice, it is the longest day of the year. When you know that every second counts and every breath could be her last, it feels like the day is speeding by. Her sunset was coming all too fast, regardless of how much daylight there was that day.
Now in reality, I know that there are 24 hours in day, every day, regardless of the amount of daylight. I looked up the word solstice and what I found intrigued me. The word comes from the combination of two Latin words that basically mean "sun" and "stand still". Here is what I read: "For a few days before and after the solstice the change in position of the sunrise is so slight that the sun appears to stop or stand still for a few days..."
For a brand new mom looking at her baby, time does seem to stand still. It is a moment so incredible, so breath taking that everything else around you fades into the background. All you can focus on is that little miraculous bundle. Even if there was less daylight that day than on any other day of the year, it made no difference to me. There could be no sunlight brighter than looking at my sweet little baby.
In the same way and yet so incredibly different, time also seems to stand still when you lose a loved one. When Mother died, nothing else mattered. I couldn't focus on anything beyond the devastating loss I felt. The daily routine around me faded into the background. No matter how many hours of daylight there were, I was consumed in the darkness of grief. I remember for weeks, maybe months, after Mother's death that I could be outside in the sunshine and yet nothing appeared as bright to me as usual.
Still, there are 24 hours in a day. The sun shines as brightly as ever. I know it is all about perspective, all about how I choose to look at things. Instead of thinking about what I lost the day Mother died, I should focus on what she gained. Then it makes more sense that she died near the summer solstice. Her soul is in Heaven for eternity, where God's light is never ending. Maybe instead of referring to June 19, 2011 as Mother's death date, I should call that day her "summer soul-stice".
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Heaven Is For Real
Today marks one year since Mother's death. I love her and miss her as much as ever.
After my dad died, my sisters, my mom and I all read several books about the experiences of the dying. One was called Final Gifts and was written by hospice nurses. They told many incredible true life stories of the things hospice patients said and did in their final days. Often times, the dying patients spoke of seeing loved ones who had gone before them. We also read 90 minutes in Heaven, written by a man who died in a car accident but was revived again. Just a few months before my mom got sick, we all read the book Heaven is For Real. It is written by the father of a 4 year old boy who experienced Heaven during an emergency surgery. Months later he began telling his experience to his parents. He spoke of things that happened while he was in surgery...things that were impossible for him to know. He spoke of meeting a sister that his mom had miscarried...something he knew nothing about prior to his surgery. Most incredible was that he told of meeting Jesus and he remembered what he looked like. No matter what picture of Jesus his parents showed him, he said that was not the Jesus he had met. Then one day, the parents saw a picture of Jesus that had been drawn by another young child who also experienced Heaven. When shown this picture, the little boy immediately identified the man as the Jesus he had met in Heaven.
While Mother was in hospice, I longed to catch a glimpse of Heaven through her. At one point when she was sleeping, it was obvious to me that she was dreaming. When she awoke I asked if she had seen anyone in her dream. She told me "Yes, two people." When I asked her who they were she told me she couldn't remember. She then drifted of again. When she awoke again, I asked if she had seen the people again. She said yes. This time when I asked who they were, she responded, "Mike." Finally, I thought I was getting that glimpse I'd been looking for. Growing up, Mother had a favorite uncle...her Uncle Mike. Surely he'd be there waiting for her when she got to Heaven. Had she really seen him? Then remembering that she said she'd seen two people, I asked her who the other one was. She looked at me and said, "You". It then hit me that the "Mike" she had referred to was my brother Mike (named after her uncle). Mike and I were sitting on either side of her bed. I just had to chuckle to myself. I had been so intent on her giving me a glimpse of Heaven, that I had jumped to the conclusion of who she had seen in her dream. My first thought was, "I can't wait to tell her about this when we get back home from here. She is going to laugh about it." Then it hit me that I would never have that opportunity as she wouldn't be going home again.
I did ask Mother many times while in hospice if she'd seen Daddy yet. She always said, "No". My niece Alyssa (then 17) and I ran out to get lunch one day during Mother's final days. Alyssa told me that she had a theory on why Grandma always responded "No" to that question. She also said that if her theory was correct, Grandma would never tell us that she had seen him. Alyssa's thought was that once Grandma saw Grandpa, she would run to him and never look back, not even to tell us that she saw him. I told her she might be right. That still didn't stop me from continuing to ask Mother if she'd seen Daddy yet. Even a few hours before she died, I asked her. Her response was the same as every other time I asked, "No".
A few hours before my mom died, all of our family left her room so the nurses could bathe her. From all the books I'd read, it should have been obvious to me that she would choose that time to begin her final exit. Many times, hospice patients wait until their loved ones are out of the room, trying to protect them from the pain of witnessing their death. As soon as the nurses were done bathing Mother, we went back into her room. Immediately, Jo and I noticed that something was different. Mother's breathing had changed, and she just looked different. She was no longer alert. The nurses weren't immediately convinced that anything had changed. One later told me that although she didn't see the changes right away, she knew Jo and I were "in tune" to Mother and quickly realized we were right.
All of Mother's kids had seen her in the last 24 hours. Still, the three of us there at the time started making phone calls to the others that things were progressing rapidly. We gathered close around her bed and held her hands. I repeated her favorite bible verse to her: "Surely God is my salvation. I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord is my strength and my song. He has become my salvation." I told her that we'd be ok and take care of each other. I assured her that Lauren would be ok. I told her that her other children and some of her grandchildren were on their way. I also told her that if God and Daddy needed her before the rest of the family got there, it was ok to go. I talked to her until the end. Shortly before her death, the left side of her mouth curved up into an obvious smile, not once but twice. Everyone in the room noticed it. Then she was gone. To me it was obvious that those smiles meant she'd finally seen Daddy and Jesus. Alyssa was right. Mother never told us that she'd seen Daddy. Once she saw him, she ran to him and never looked back. But she smiled twice. And that was all the glimpse of Heaven I needed to know for sure that Heaven is For Real.
There is a song by Matthew West on the Christian music station I listen to brings me to tears every time I hear it. Mother, until I see you again, Save a Place For Me.
"Save A Place For Me"
After my dad died, my sisters, my mom and I all read several books about the experiences of the dying. One was called Final Gifts and was written by hospice nurses. They told many incredible true life stories of the things hospice patients said and did in their final days. Often times, the dying patients spoke of seeing loved ones who had gone before them. We also read 90 minutes in Heaven, written by a man who died in a car accident but was revived again. Just a few months before my mom got sick, we all read the book Heaven is For Real. It is written by the father of a 4 year old boy who experienced Heaven during an emergency surgery. Months later he began telling his experience to his parents. He spoke of things that happened while he was in surgery...things that were impossible for him to know. He spoke of meeting a sister that his mom had miscarried...something he knew nothing about prior to his surgery. Most incredible was that he told of meeting Jesus and he remembered what he looked like. No matter what picture of Jesus his parents showed him, he said that was not the Jesus he had met. Then one day, the parents saw a picture of Jesus that had been drawn by another young child who also experienced Heaven. When shown this picture, the little boy immediately identified the man as the Jesus he had met in Heaven.
While Mother was in hospice, I longed to catch a glimpse of Heaven through her. At one point when she was sleeping, it was obvious to me that she was dreaming. When she awoke I asked if she had seen anyone in her dream. She told me "Yes, two people." When I asked her who they were she told me she couldn't remember. She then drifted of again. When she awoke again, I asked if she had seen the people again. She said yes. This time when I asked who they were, she responded, "Mike." Finally, I thought I was getting that glimpse I'd been looking for. Growing up, Mother had a favorite uncle...her Uncle Mike. Surely he'd be there waiting for her when she got to Heaven. Had she really seen him? Then remembering that she said she'd seen two people, I asked her who the other one was. She looked at me and said, "You". It then hit me that the "Mike" she had referred to was my brother Mike (named after her uncle). Mike and I were sitting on either side of her bed. I just had to chuckle to myself. I had been so intent on her giving me a glimpse of Heaven, that I had jumped to the conclusion of who she had seen in her dream. My first thought was, "I can't wait to tell her about this when we get back home from here. She is going to laugh about it." Then it hit me that I would never have that opportunity as she wouldn't be going home again.
I did ask Mother many times while in hospice if she'd seen Daddy yet. She always said, "No". My niece Alyssa (then 17) and I ran out to get lunch one day during Mother's final days. Alyssa told me that she had a theory on why Grandma always responded "No" to that question. She also said that if her theory was correct, Grandma would never tell us that she had seen him. Alyssa's thought was that once Grandma saw Grandpa, she would run to him and never look back, not even to tell us that she saw him. I told her she might be right. That still didn't stop me from continuing to ask Mother if she'd seen Daddy yet. Even a few hours before she died, I asked her. Her response was the same as every other time I asked, "No".
A few hours before my mom died, all of our family left her room so the nurses could bathe her. From all the books I'd read, it should have been obvious to me that she would choose that time to begin her final exit. Many times, hospice patients wait until their loved ones are out of the room, trying to protect them from the pain of witnessing their death. As soon as the nurses were done bathing Mother, we went back into her room. Immediately, Jo and I noticed that something was different. Mother's breathing had changed, and she just looked different. She was no longer alert. The nurses weren't immediately convinced that anything had changed. One later told me that although she didn't see the changes right away, she knew Jo and I were "in tune" to Mother and quickly realized we were right.
All of Mother's kids had seen her in the last 24 hours. Still, the three of us there at the time started making phone calls to the others that things were progressing rapidly. We gathered close around her bed and held her hands. I repeated her favorite bible verse to her: "Surely God is my salvation. I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord is my strength and my song. He has become my salvation." I told her that we'd be ok and take care of each other. I assured her that Lauren would be ok. I told her that her other children and some of her grandchildren were on their way. I also told her that if God and Daddy needed her before the rest of the family got there, it was ok to go. I talked to her until the end. Shortly before her death, the left side of her mouth curved up into an obvious smile, not once but twice. Everyone in the room noticed it. Then she was gone. To me it was obvious that those smiles meant she'd finally seen Daddy and Jesus. Alyssa was right. Mother never told us that she'd seen Daddy. Once she saw him, she ran to him and never looked back. But she smiled twice. And that was all the glimpse of Heaven I needed to know for sure that Heaven is For Real.
There is a song by Matthew West on the Christian music station I listen to brings me to tears every time I hear it. Mother, until I see you again, Save a Place For Me.
"Save A Place For Me"
Don't be mad if I cry
It just hurts so bad sometimes
'Cause everyday it's sinking in
And I have to say goodbye all over again
You know I bet it feels good
To have the weight of this world
Off Your shoulders now
I'm dreaming of the day
When I'm finally there with You
Save a place for me, save a place for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
Save a place for me, save some grace for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
I have asked the questions why
But I guess the answer's for another time
So instead I'll pray with every tear
And be thankful for the time I had You here
So You just save a place for me, save a place for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
Save a place for me, save some grace for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there
I wanna live my life just like You did
And make the most of my time just like You did
And I wanna make my home up in the sky
Just like You did, oh, but until I get there
Until I get there
Just save a place for me, save a place for me
'Cause I will be there soon
Save a place for me, save a place for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
Don't be mad if I cry
It just hurts so bad.
It just hurts so bad sometimes
'Cause everyday it's sinking in
And I have to say goodbye all over again
You know I bet it feels good
To have the weight of this world
Off Your shoulders now
I'm dreaming of the day
When I'm finally there with You
Save a place for me, save a place for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
Save a place for me, save some grace for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
I have asked the questions why
But I guess the answer's for another time
So instead I'll pray with every tear
And be thankful for the time I had You here
So You just save a place for me, save a place for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
Save a place for me, save some grace for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there
I wanna live my life just like You did
And make the most of my time just like You did
And I wanna make my home up in the sky
Just like You did, oh, but until I get there
Until I get there
Just save a place for me, save a place for me
'Cause I will be there soon
Save a place for me, save a place for me
I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon
Don't be mad if I cry
It just hurts so bad.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Things I've Learned Since Losing My Parents
*No matter your age, you will feel like an orphan when both of your parents are gone.
*Life goes on and the world keeps spinning when you lose a loved one, even though there are many times you wish they wouldn't.
*The old phrases your parents said, will now bring a smile to your face when you hear them escape your own lips.
*Love isn't found in material things, it is found within and between people.
*When you are dying, you won't think about your job, your car, how clean your house was or how much money you made in your lifetime. You will think of the people who touched your life and will hope that you touched people's lives as well.
*When you lose your mother, it feels as though a part of your very childhood has been lost.
*God is everywhere, you just have to open your eyes to see what He is showing you.
*When you lose your parents, you develop a need to keep their memory alive.
*You find joy (even if tears get mixed in) when someone mentions your lost loved one.
*You will reach for the phone or think "I can't wait to tell Mother/Daddy about that", and then be shocked back into reality at the remembrance that they are gone.
*Many who have not yet lost a parent, will seem uncomfortable around you. Whether this is real or perceived on your part, remind yourself to be happy for them that they don't understand your loss. And be there for them down the road when they do understand it.
*You will always wish you'd asked your parents more questions about when they were young.
*You can never say "I love you" too many times.
*There are angels who walk among us every day.
*There is no time limit on grief.
*Grief is a process, a journey that is different for everyone.
*When you become a mother, you will play that role for the rest of your life.
*The truly great people in life rarely see themselves that way.
*Dying is a fascinating process…except for the end result.
*When I listen closely, I can hear my mom giving me advice about whatever is troubling me.
*A simple grocery list in my mom’s handwriting can bring me to tears.
*The little everyday things in life are the ones you will remember and treasure the most.
*Just as I didn’t know as much at 16 as I do now, I don’t know as much now as I will at 80.
*No matter how long you have your parents in your life, it is never long enough.
*Perspective makes all the difference..
*Your parents live on in you when they are gone.
*My mom was right when she said that the older you get, the faster the years seem to go.
*Hindsight is 20/20, but Godsight has a clarity that human eyes are not capable of seeing.
*At the end of your life, it’s people, not things, that matter.
*God does work in mysterious ways.
*It's ok to laugh in the midst of grieving.
*Everything changes when you lose your mother.
*There are worse things than experiencing grief yourself. Watching your parent grieve and watching your child grieve are two of them.
*The price one pays for having wonderfully loving parents is tremendous grief when they are gone. But it is well worth the cost.
*The idea of my own death is much less frightening, now that I know Mother and Daddy will be waiting to greet me at Heaven’s gate.
*A spoonful of maple nut ice cream will forever bring back memories of my mom.
*Never underestimate what a difference your simple act of kindness can make in someone's life.
*My parents weren't perfect, but they were the perfect parents for me.
*I will forever miss Mother and Daddy, until I see them again. And I am confident that I will see them again.
*I need to keep writing my feelings and my memories. It's cheaper than a therapist.
*Life goes on and the world keeps spinning when you lose a loved one, even though there are many times you wish they wouldn't.
*The old phrases your parents said, will now bring a smile to your face when you hear them escape your own lips.
*Love isn't found in material things, it is found within and between people.
*When you are dying, you won't think about your job, your car, how clean your house was or how much money you made in your lifetime. You will think of the people who touched your life and will hope that you touched people's lives as well.
*When you lose your mother, it feels as though a part of your very childhood has been lost.
*God is everywhere, you just have to open your eyes to see what He is showing you.
*When you lose your parents, you develop a need to keep their memory alive.
*You find joy (even if tears get mixed in) when someone mentions your lost loved one.
*You will reach for the phone or think "I can't wait to tell Mother/Daddy about that", and then be shocked back into reality at the remembrance that they are gone.
*Many who have not yet lost a parent, will seem uncomfortable around you. Whether this is real or perceived on your part, remind yourself to be happy for them that they don't understand your loss. And be there for them down the road when they do understand it.
*You will always wish you'd asked your parents more questions about when they were young.
*You can never say "I love you" too many times.
*There are angels who walk among us every day.
*There is no time limit on grief.
*Grief is a process, a journey that is different for everyone.
*When you become a mother, you will play that role for the rest of your life.
*The truly great people in life rarely see themselves that way.
*Dying is a fascinating process…except for the end result.
*When I listen closely, I can hear my mom giving me advice about whatever is troubling me.
*A simple grocery list in my mom’s handwriting can bring me to tears.
*The little everyday things in life are the ones you will remember and treasure the most.
*Just as I didn’t know as much at 16 as I do now, I don’t know as much now as I will at 80.
*No matter how long you have your parents in your life, it is never long enough.
*Perspective makes all the difference..
*Your parents live on in you when they are gone.
*My mom was right when she said that the older you get, the faster the years seem to go.
*Hindsight is 20/20, but Godsight has a clarity that human eyes are not capable of seeing.
*At the end of your life, it’s people, not things, that matter.
*God does work in mysterious ways.
*It's ok to laugh in the midst of grieving.
*Everything changes when you lose your mother.
*There are worse things than experiencing grief yourself. Watching your parent grieve and watching your child grieve are two of them.
*The price one pays for having wonderfully loving parents is tremendous grief when they are gone. But it is well worth the cost.
*The idea of my own death is much less frightening, now that I know Mother and Daddy will be waiting to greet me at Heaven’s gate.
*A spoonful of maple nut ice cream will forever bring back memories of my mom.
*Never underestimate what a difference your simple act of kindness can make in someone's life.
*My parents weren't perfect, but they were the perfect parents for me.
*I will forever miss Mother and Daddy, until I see them again. And I am confident that I will see them again.
*I need to keep writing my feelings and my memories. It's cheaper than a therapist.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
The Best Father's Day Gift
On the first Father's Day after Daddy died, I received a Father's Day gift. Understandably, I was feeling a bit down that day. That morning, Lauren came to me and told me that she'd had a dream shortly after Grandpa died and she just remembered it and wanted to tell me about it. She went on to say that in her dream, we were all in the kitchen at the farm and Grandpa was there. He was able to walk better than Lauren had ever seen him walk in her life...no walker or cane to help him. And she described in detail to me what he was wearing: a tan fishing hat with lures on it, a tan shirt and blue pants. She said that she asked Grandpa what his job in Heaven was and he never really told her, but she assumed from the way he was dressed that his job was fishing. He talked to everyone and said he couldn't stay long. He talked to Grandma last and then left through the kitchen door. I was so touched by her recollection of the dream and by the fact that Father's Day was the day she remembered to tell me. She still remembers the details of her dream today. I'm pretty certain that was the one and only Father's Day gift I will ever receive. And I will cherish it forever.
Father's Day 2011, was on June 19. Eric was at home with our kids. I talked with Danielle on the phone and told her to tell Eric what we had in mind to get him for Father's Day. I'd been a little preoccupied to actually get the kids out to buy the gift. Eric got the kids to church that morning and got Danielle sent off on her mission trip to Rockford, Illinois. We knew that it was likely that Mother would die before Dani's week long mission trip was over. But she really wanted to go and had said her good-byes to Grandma. We figured being with other kids and leaders from church was a great place for her to be. We also had talked to the leaders about it and they'd wonderfully agreed to meet Eric part way if we needed to get Dani home for a funeral before the week was up. What I didn't anticipate was that Grandma would be gone before Dani ever made it to Rockford. I remember being pretty strong when I talked to both Eric and my brother Charlie on the phone to let them know Mother was gone. But leaving the message for mission trip leader, Matt, brought me to tears. From what I heard later, Dani handled the news pretty well and it helped for her to be surrounded by her friends.
Happy 3rd Father's Day in Heaven Daddy! I hope you have a great day of fishing.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Birthday Gifts
June 16, 2011 was my niece Kelly's 21st birthday. Kelly was worried that Grandma would die on her birthday. Grandma's health had declined significantly in the last few days and we knew she wouldn't be with us much longer. As you know, my mom was a leap day baby. In 2012, Grandma and Kelly both would have turned 22.
I remember Jo talking to Kelly via cell phone. I yelled "Happy Birthday" so that Kelly would hear it. Grandma then also said, "Happy Birthday" to Kelly. Later in the day, Kelly and Jeff (her then boyfriend, now fiance) stopped to see Grandma. Grandma was able to tell Kelly "Happy Birthday" and "I love you" in person. I knew it was something Kelly would treasure forever.
As evening came that day, I thought about how we were worried that Grandma would die on Kelly's birthday. It occurred to me that Grandma would fight with ever ounce of her being not to die that day. She and Kelly had a wonderful bond and Grandma wouldn't want her to have the memory of her dying that day. I just knew we were "safe", at least until the clock struck midnight and it was a new day.
Kelly just posted about this on facebook and it made me smile. Here is what she wrote about her 21st birthday"
I wasn't out drinking- but I did go visit my Grandma for the last time and received the best birthday gift ever- a "Happy Birthday" and "I Love You" from her. I was looking forward to celebrating our 22nd birthdays together this year (she was a leap-day baby) but I know she will be celebrating with me from heaven.
I knew Kelly would forever remember those words Grandma said. But in reading her words, it struck me that we never know how things will go. We worried that Grandma would die on Kelly's birthday, and yet that day, Grandma gave Kelly the best present ever...one she will treasure the rest of her life.
Happy 22nd Birthday Kelly! And I know you are right that Grandma is celebrating with you today...all the way from Heaven! May you feel her love surround you today.
I remember Jo talking to Kelly via cell phone. I yelled "Happy Birthday" so that Kelly would hear it. Grandma then also said, "Happy Birthday" to Kelly. Later in the day, Kelly and Jeff (her then boyfriend, now fiance) stopped to see Grandma. Grandma was able to tell Kelly "Happy Birthday" and "I love you" in person. I knew it was something Kelly would treasure forever.
As evening came that day, I thought about how we were worried that Grandma would die on Kelly's birthday. It occurred to me that Grandma would fight with ever ounce of her being not to die that day. She and Kelly had a wonderful bond and Grandma wouldn't want her to have the memory of her dying that day. I just knew we were "safe", at least until the clock struck midnight and it was a new day.
Kelly just posted about this on facebook and it made me smile. Here is what she wrote about her 21st birthday"
I wasn't out drinking- but I did go visit my Grandma for the last time and received the best birthday gift ever- a "Happy Birthday" and "I Love You" from her. I was looking forward to celebrating our 22nd birthdays together this year (she was a leap-day baby) but I know she will be celebrating with me from heaven.
I knew Kelly would forever remember those words Grandma said. But in reading her words, it struck me that we never know how things will go. We worried that Grandma would die on Kelly's birthday, and yet that day, Grandma gave Kelly the best present ever...one she will treasure the rest of her life.
Happy 22nd Birthday Kelly! And I know you are right that Grandma is celebrating with you today...all the way from Heaven! May you feel her love surround you today.
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