Whence love first burst upon my breast,
In stunned surprise, I saw it there,
Too tender to take within my hands,
For fear to lose, or drive away
But love, it took itself to me,
Regarding not my spirit's trial,
And wrap't it's heart around my soul,
To bide til time stole it away
Yet deepest within my aching heart,
Bode love from echoes of eras past,
'Gainst all hope, to kindle anew,
That which I knew as lost to me.
Now I feel that I have again,
Driven away that which He gave,
Too tender to take within my hands,
For fear to lose, or drive away.
For fear to lose...again.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tears of the Whippoorwill
Tears of the Whippoorwill
Do you hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Have you ever seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Hank Williams Sr. told my stepdad “Pops”, his drinking buddy, to listen for this song that he would write for him about being a lonesome soldier. Soon after, this song appeared, with its’ evocative, plaintive wail, an ode to love, loss, & emptiness.
I have always loved this song, even before Pops came on the scene. As a child, I was constantly lonely, craving something, someone who would love me, who could even in a small way understand me. Aunt Helen was the nearest to this, but she married & I was without love for many years.
Fortunately, I came to know a wonderful, amazing family of Blond Bombshells that saved me & changed my life forever. Here I found & married my beloved darlin’ WolfWife, & she loved me for 36 years. BBD#3 has been in my life pretty consistently: BBD #4 has been out of it since 1991, the other two for even longer. I place that blame squarely on my sagging shoulders: I understand. I took their Mother away, & they feel it was not my place to do so. I broke hearts, I severed ties of blood, I took love & tore it apart & left it gasping in my wake. I remember rage, I remember sharpness of tooth & tongue, I remember my evil nature rending that family as I imposed my will upon those I loved. I did not understand that I was Wolf then, ravenous for life enough to fill my empty gullet the only way I knew how, as the only emotions I understood were rage & bloodlust. I hear the bitterness, I curse this empathy that condemns me to feel the pain that I have inflicted upon them. No, I am not without sin, & I cast the stones upon myself.
Now, my darlin’ is gone from me, gone Home to the Creator with whom she will live for eternity, in joy, without pain or worry or burden. I know that time is not part of her existence, & I know that my life is mine to change so that I could be with her again in Heaven. I am also pragmatic & self-aware enough to know that I have not earned that ending, & probably never will. Perhaps the Father will allow me to see her once again from afar, a glimpse, a whisper of her soul as I am cast to my damnation. I do not presume to think that I know His will, but His salvation is too high a reward for me to delude myself that I could ever claim it. One wispy glance of her thru the veil of my destruction will be enough.
And so, it leaves me here for whatever time is left me: here, in this world of grief & pain & terror. Surrounded by family & friends & caring co-workers, I am lifted up to the point that I am afraid that I am not even grieving properly for my darlin’. Fleeting moments of pseudo-functionality are bookended by crashing lows & spurts of abject despair & longing. The absence of human touch is devastatingly familiar, as it was my life until I met my WolfWife. I did not wish to endure it then: it is no more attractive to me now.
I stood at the bank of the river-filled lake outside my office yesterday, watching the dark & rippling waters lapping their loads of trash & detritus against the bank, & I felt as if I belonged within the oily flotsam. I thought, “One step, just one little step forward, & I can join her, in 5 minutes. One step & 5 minutes…not a long journey at all…” However, since I know that no joy awaits me in that eternal infernal sleep, what does it matter when I begin my damnation? So here I am, laying down lines like Ol’ Hank, except that my napkin is a keyboard, & I am sober. Robins are rare in these lands, but my darlin’ & I have heard a whippoorwill at WolfLodge: now I can hear the sound of his tears splashing thru the pines, too many to bear, & too few to drown within.
I’m so lonesome, I could…die
Do you hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Have you ever seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Hank Williams Sr. told my stepdad “Pops”, his drinking buddy, to listen for this song that he would write for him about being a lonesome soldier. Soon after, this song appeared, with its’ evocative, plaintive wail, an ode to love, loss, & emptiness.
I have always loved this song, even before Pops came on the scene. As a child, I was constantly lonely, craving something, someone who would love me, who could even in a small way understand me. Aunt Helen was the nearest to this, but she married & I was without love for many years.
Fortunately, I came to know a wonderful, amazing family of Blond Bombshells that saved me & changed my life forever. Here I found & married my beloved darlin’ WolfWife, & she loved me for 36 years. BBD#3 has been in my life pretty consistently: BBD #4 has been out of it since 1991, the other two for even longer. I place that blame squarely on my sagging shoulders: I understand. I took their Mother away, & they feel it was not my place to do so. I broke hearts, I severed ties of blood, I took love & tore it apart & left it gasping in my wake. I remember rage, I remember sharpness of tooth & tongue, I remember my evil nature rending that family as I imposed my will upon those I loved. I did not understand that I was Wolf then, ravenous for life enough to fill my empty gullet the only way I knew how, as the only emotions I understood were rage & bloodlust. I hear the bitterness, I curse this empathy that condemns me to feel the pain that I have inflicted upon them. No, I am not without sin, & I cast the stones upon myself.
Now, my darlin’ is gone from me, gone Home to the Creator with whom she will live for eternity, in joy, without pain or worry or burden. I know that time is not part of her existence, & I know that my life is mine to change so that I could be with her again in Heaven. I am also pragmatic & self-aware enough to know that I have not earned that ending, & probably never will. Perhaps the Father will allow me to see her once again from afar, a glimpse, a whisper of her soul as I am cast to my damnation. I do not presume to think that I know His will, but His salvation is too high a reward for me to delude myself that I could ever claim it. One wispy glance of her thru the veil of my destruction will be enough.
And so, it leaves me here for whatever time is left me: here, in this world of grief & pain & terror. Surrounded by family & friends & caring co-workers, I am lifted up to the point that I am afraid that I am not even grieving properly for my darlin’. Fleeting moments of pseudo-functionality are bookended by crashing lows & spurts of abject despair & longing. The absence of human touch is devastatingly familiar, as it was my life until I met my WolfWife. I did not wish to endure it then: it is no more attractive to me now.
I stood at the bank of the river-filled lake outside my office yesterday, watching the dark & rippling waters lapping their loads of trash & detritus against the bank, & I felt as if I belonged within the oily flotsam. I thought, “One step, just one little step forward, & I can join her, in 5 minutes. One step & 5 minutes…not a long journey at all…” However, since I know that no joy awaits me in that eternal infernal sleep, what does it matter when I begin my damnation? So here I am, laying down lines like Ol’ Hank, except that my napkin is a keyboard, & I am sober. Robins are rare in these lands, but my darlin’ & I have heard a whippoorwill at WolfLodge: now I can hear the sound of his tears splashing thru the pines, too many to bear, & too few to drown within.
I’m so lonesome, I could…die
Friday, May 23, 2008
The Fingerprints of God Touching Us
This post is in response to a request for our findings of the Fingerprints of God:
http://pamperingbeki.blogspot.com/2008/05/fingerprint-friday_22.html
Where do I see them? In myriad little moments of joy, which have surrounded me thru this journey of grief & loss. I hold on to every one as tightly as I can, each a lifeline to the rock of survival & sanity & transformation. Here is a partial list:
When my darlin' got to her final room at the hospital, she enjoyed the view of the Austin skyline, as well as she could see it by then. A concrete balcony outside her window was home to a pigeon family: strutting father whose job was to puff out his chest & pace the railing, chasing off squatters who tries to move in. He also occasionally brought food. Mother had a chick, just starting to try to fly a bit, & 1 egg. A day later, anther one was being busily rolled around & fussed over. A display of the circle of life, there courtesy of the Creator.
In a hospital waiting room in Austin, a lady called out to me "Aren't you from Bastrop?" I am. We then began to chat, & realized we knew many of the same wonderful, kindly souls in that & surrounding communities. She was in fact a pal of my darlin' wife from years ago, & we were able to share stories of love & charity, & she stopped in to see my pretty girl, & both their spirits were lifted.
As I was in the elevator heading for the lower level pharmacy minutes before she was to head to Hospice, everyone but me piled out at the 1st floor. In walked a young man who moved to the far corner. I was startled to see him: a buddy of our son's whom I had not seen for years, who is currently wed to our son's 1st wife. He works for a courier service & was making a quick delivery: I informed him of what was going on, & I do not know if he stopped by to see her: he was on the elevator for less than 15 seconds, amidst a metro area of 1,000,000+ people. There were the Fingerprints of God.
At the funeral home 2 days after she passed, the director informed me that she would be cremated in Kerrville. I almost came out of my chair: that tiny town was where we were married, so many years ago! When we picked her up, I related that story to another director, & in walked the man from Kerrville who had cared for her.
My darlin' leaned on everyone around to make sure I went to powwow in Fredericksburg. She passed a week before, & my son & I attended, planning to honor her in the prayer dance. Unfortunately it was too hot to allow the dancers to perform. Last year my darlin' & I attended & I parked her under a shady oak & headed out to get the car. A very concerned young fancy dancer came up to her: "Mother, are you all right? Can I get you a chair, or some water, or tea?" "No, son, thank you, but my husband will be here with the car in a moment." "Are you sure>" asked the dancer, "I can get you a chair from this vendor, & anything you want to drink..." "Thank you, I am fine: you have been taught well." she told him. His response: "Well, it is our way." "And a fine way it is, too" she said. He blinked in surprise, leaned in & whispered, "It is not often that we hear white people use that term!" "I too have been taught well!" she said. He laughed, patted her shoulder, & ran off as I pulled up. This year I pointed that spot out to our son as we entered, & as we left I stepped into the shade at that spot. I was immediately enveloped in her presence, with a powerful energy coursing thru my body. I lifted my eyes to Heaven & gave thanks for this gift. My son reached out knowingly, & patted me on the shoulder. Then I knew: the fingerprints of God had closed another circle.
Dear friends had given me an old power wheelchair for my darlin' which I found was too expensive to repair. I loaded it on my sister-girl's trailer along with assorted furniture that I threw out to make room for her care equipment. She was at a store in Rockne, (population what, 17?) when a group of South-of-the-Borderans approached the trailer,spotting the bottom frame of the chair. One told her (thru the language barrier) that he had the exact chair chassis which his loved one could not use as the seat frame was broken. He was thrilled to learn that she had the intact seat assembly right there: Sister-girl called me so excited, & I called my friends: they said they had just prayed that the chair would go to someone to whom it would be a blessing: Fingerprints? You bet!
I was outside our beloved Wolf Lodge speaking on the phone, when a little black bug started bumping me on the chest. I thought I recognized it, & followed it to the door, where it landed on a glass pane, rested for a moment, then lifted off, flew back to me as it lit up, then sailed straight up into the air until it faded from sight. Four years there, first lightning bug. These creatures were very special to my darlin', due to a camping trip we made long ago...
There are so many more of these blessings: I know that His Fingerprints are all over our lives, & certainly on my heart. I will continue to add to this post as I am able to remember them.
http://pamperingbeki.blogspot.com/2008/05/fingerprint-friday_22.html
Where do I see them? In myriad little moments of joy, which have surrounded me thru this journey of grief & loss. I hold on to every one as tightly as I can, each a lifeline to the rock of survival & sanity & transformation. Here is a partial list:
When my darlin' got to her final room at the hospital, she enjoyed the view of the Austin skyline, as well as she could see it by then. A concrete balcony outside her window was home to a pigeon family: strutting father whose job was to puff out his chest & pace the railing, chasing off squatters who tries to move in. He also occasionally brought food. Mother had a chick, just starting to try to fly a bit, & 1 egg. A day later, anther one was being busily rolled around & fussed over. A display of the circle of life, there courtesy of the Creator.
In a hospital waiting room in Austin, a lady called out to me "Aren't you from Bastrop?" I am. We then began to chat, & realized we knew many of the same wonderful, kindly souls in that & surrounding communities. She was in fact a pal of my darlin' wife from years ago, & we were able to share stories of love & charity, & she stopped in to see my pretty girl, & both their spirits were lifted.
As I was in the elevator heading for the lower level pharmacy minutes before she was to head to Hospice, everyone but me piled out at the 1st floor. In walked a young man who moved to the far corner. I was startled to see him: a buddy of our son's whom I had not seen for years, who is currently wed to our son's 1st wife. He works for a courier service & was making a quick delivery: I informed him of what was going on, & I do not know if he stopped by to see her: he was on the elevator for less than 15 seconds, amidst a metro area of 1,000,000+ people. There were the Fingerprints of God.
At the funeral home 2 days after she passed, the director informed me that she would be cremated in Kerrville. I almost came out of my chair: that tiny town was where we were married, so many years ago! When we picked her up, I related that story to another director, & in walked the man from Kerrville who had cared for her.
My darlin' leaned on everyone around to make sure I went to powwow in Fredericksburg. She passed a week before, & my son & I attended, planning to honor her in the prayer dance. Unfortunately it was too hot to allow the dancers to perform. Last year my darlin' & I attended & I parked her under a shady oak & headed out to get the car. A very concerned young fancy dancer came up to her: "Mother, are you all right? Can I get you a chair, or some water, or tea?" "No, son, thank you, but my husband will be here with the car in a moment." "Are you sure>" asked the dancer, "I can get you a chair from this vendor, & anything you want to drink..." "Thank you, I am fine: you have been taught well." she told him. His response: "Well, it is our way." "And a fine way it is, too" she said. He blinked in surprise, leaned in & whispered, "It is not often that we hear white people use that term!" "I too have been taught well!" she said. He laughed, patted her shoulder, & ran off as I pulled up. This year I pointed that spot out to our son as we entered, & as we left I stepped into the shade at that spot. I was immediately enveloped in her presence, with a powerful energy coursing thru my body. I lifted my eyes to Heaven & gave thanks for this gift. My son reached out knowingly, & patted me on the shoulder. Then I knew: the fingerprints of God had closed another circle.
Dear friends had given me an old power wheelchair for my darlin' which I found was too expensive to repair. I loaded it on my sister-girl's trailer along with assorted furniture that I threw out to make room for her care equipment. She was at a store in Rockne, (population what, 17?) when a group of South-of-the-Borderans approached the trailer,spotting the bottom frame of the chair. One told her (thru the language barrier) that he had the exact chair chassis which his loved one could not use as the seat frame was broken. He was thrilled to learn that she had the intact seat assembly right there: Sister-girl called me so excited, & I called my friends: they said they had just prayed that the chair would go to someone to whom it would be a blessing: Fingerprints? You bet!
I was outside our beloved Wolf Lodge speaking on the phone, when a little black bug started bumping me on the chest. I thought I recognized it, & followed it to the door, where it landed on a glass pane, rested for a moment, then lifted off, flew back to me as it lit up, then sailed straight up into the air until it faded from sight. Four years there, first lightning bug. These creatures were very special to my darlin', due to a camping trip we made long ago...
There are so many more of these blessings: I know that His Fingerprints are all over our lives, & certainly on my heart. I will continue to add to this post as I am able to remember them.
Heavy Nights, Unwelcome Days
Forcedly surrendering control: I guess that is about as well as I can say it. As I stated before, I am not in control of my emotions & cannot predict my reactions to the forks & turns & dips & climbs on this path that the Creator has placed 'neath my feet.
After a tough day yesterday, I got home & opened an envelope from Hospice, which contained information about grief resources, & a booklet entitled "Someone You Love Has Died". I knew that this little tome could help me, but it was too much to bear at that time. I found myself in bed, adrift in the dark, with my beloved darlin's ashes resting on my shoulder, her pillow clutched to my chest, under the blanket under which she died. I let it all go again, giving myself over to the thundering flood of raw, visceral emotion & pain & fear, letting out the tears which I certainly have not been hoarding. After an eternity, I calmed again, & was filled by the warmth of the presence of the Holy Spirit, & could feel my darlin' in my arms. I rocked her slowly, gently, as so many times before. I told her I loved her, which never seemed to cover the strength of the emotional bond we shared.
My tears replenished, & flowed, & again throughout the night as my grief took control & I was swept along. I had a powerful email from BBD#4 regarding the scattering of my darlin's ashes, & I wrote her as heartfelt an answer as possible. It reminded me of a poem my darlin' wrote for me many years ago, which I had never shared with anyone: I sent her a verse last night, & will post it here after I have shared with her blood kin. Perhaps it will be part of her memorial service: I think she would like that.
Today has been even harder: I had to leave the office & sit by the river, praying my flute, casting my prayers & my tears upon the waters. Next week, I begin bereavement counseling thru Hospice - I pray that I can bear it, & come out the other side as someone those closest to me can yet love. Please pray for me, that I do not drown in this sea of loneliness & despair.
After a tough day yesterday, I got home & opened an envelope from Hospice, which contained information about grief resources, & a booklet entitled "Someone You Love Has Died". I knew that this little tome could help me, but it was too much to bear at that time. I found myself in bed, adrift in the dark, with my beloved darlin's ashes resting on my shoulder, her pillow clutched to my chest, under the blanket under which she died. I let it all go again, giving myself over to the thundering flood of raw, visceral emotion & pain & fear, letting out the tears which I certainly have not been hoarding. After an eternity, I calmed again, & was filled by the warmth of the presence of the Holy Spirit, & could feel my darlin' in my arms. I rocked her slowly, gently, as so many times before. I told her I loved her, which never seemed to cover the strength of the emotional bond we shared.
My tears replenished, & flowed, & again throughout the night as my grief took control & I was swept along. I had a powerful email from BBD#4 regarding the scattering of my darlin's ashes, & I wrote her as heartfelt an answer as possible. It reminded me of a poem my darlin' wrote for me many years ago, which I had never shared with anyone: I sent her a verse last night, & will post it here after I have shared with her blood kin. Perhaps it will be part of her memorial service: I think she would like that.
Today has been even harder: I had to leave the office & sit by the river, praying my flute, casting my prayers & my tears upon the waters. Next week, I begin bereavement counseling thru Hospice - I pray that I can bear it, & come out the other side as someone those closest to me can yet love. Please pray for me, that I do not drown in this sea of loneliness & despair.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Those Gorgeous Baby Blues Come Home
Dear ones,
The night my beloved darlin' went Home to the Creator, I delayed going home as long as I could. Intellectually & rhetorically, I knew that it was going to be "hard" to walk into Wolf Lodge alone for the first time. In a life stuffed with hyperbole, that statement may rank as the most ridiculous understatement of all my 53 years. I was woefully unprepared, completely naive, totally not in that particular loop.
As I stepped through the door, I began to cry. 2 more trips to the car helped soften the inevitable avalanche of raw, soul-rending emotion which I knew was overtaking me. After I had brought everything in, I lay on our bed & let it overtake me. Every fiber of my being screamed, wailed in an overarching despair which took me, storming into terror, threatening my very sanity (or what is left of it). "Come back to me, come back my beloved!" I cried, "I cannot do this by myself!" Everywhere I looked, I saw my beloved. Everything I touched, I felt her hand upon. When I finally could, I phoned my son & leaned on him. Then I leaned the weight of my loss on Blond Bombshell Daughter (BBD) #3, & we cried together for a long while.
My friends, take it from what veracity I have: never, ever do this alone. Never.
My beloved darlin' has come home to Wolf Lodge. She was cremated in Kerrville, where we were married so long ago. Another circle closed, another moment of joy, another gift from the Creator.
I can tell you all that I have discovered a remarkable lack of emotional control in me through these past weeks. Things that I feel I cannot bear come easily (or relatively so); things I feel prepared for devastate me. This is, I now realize, the Creator letting me know in no uncertain terms that He is in control, not me. As our friend Bud said last night, "Those times when you got through without a problem, the Father was carrying you." Footprints in the sand, walking the path of my soul...
I could not wait to bring her home, to have at least this most basic of physical manifestations with me in that now massive-seeming home. Yet, when the funeral director let me know that she was ready, I fell apart like a snowman in a hurricane. I leaned hard on BBD #3, & on dear friends to varying degrees. Mother Ruth & sister Becca went with me the next day & brought her home. I was fine all day, until I called BBD #4 to update her. As soon as that phone began to ring, I fell apart again, leaving a barely intelligible spluttering message. She texted me a response, to which I fumble-fingered an answer. After enduring my pitiful attempts at this mode of communication, she laughingly called to to put me out of my texting misery.
She was kinder & more empathetic than I had any right to expect, given the long estrangement. I told her we were stepping out onto ice we knew to be cracked, & I would take things very gently, very slowly, very tenderly so as to not hurt her again. I realized that I was being cruel to her in expressing my loneliness, as hers has been much longer a burden. She showed me grace, compassion, & great kindness. A strong woman, with a good & loving heart; I hope I can get to know it again.
I carry my darlin's ashes around the house with me, & lay the box on her pillow at night. I know she is not there, but it the last physical manifestation that I will ever have of the body I loved for most of my life, the body that bore such beautiful daughters, such a handsome son, that held so many babies, that worked & created & loved so deeply.
I have begun the process of attending bereavement counseling thru Hospice, as I try to find out who I am, now that the one who was my world is now not in this one with me. Becoming a One when I have always been a Two will be the tallest mountain I will ever climb: I pray that my journey earns me the right to meet my shining girl at the summit, to rejoin her for eternity in the Arms of our Creator.
The night my beloved darlin' went Home to the Creator, I delayed going home as long as I could. Intellectually & rhetorically, I knew that it was going to be "hard" to walk into Wolf Lodge alone for the first time. In a life stuffed with hyperbole, that statement may rank as the most ridiculous understatement of all my 53 years. I was woefully unprepared, completely naive, totally not in that particular loop.
As I stepped through the door, I began to cry. 2 more trips to the car helped soften the inevitable avalanche of raw, soul-rending emotion which I knew was overtaking me. After I had brought everything in, I lay on our bed & let it overtake me. Every fiber of my being screamed, wailed in an overarching despair which took me, storming into terror, threatening my very sanity (or what is left of it). "Come back to me, come back my beloved!" I cried, "I cannot do this by myself!" Everywhere I looked, I saw my beloved. Everything I touched, I felt her hand upon. When I finally could, I phoned my son & leaned on him. Then I leaned the weight of my loss on Blond Bombshell Daughter (BBD) #3, & we cried together for a long while.
My friends, take it from what veracity I have: never, ever do this alone. Never.
My beloved darlin' has come home to Wolf Lodge. She was cremated in Kerrville, where we were married so long ago. Another circle closed, another moment of joy, another gift from the Creator.
I can tell you all that I have discovered a remarkable lack of emotional control in me through these past weeks. Things that I feel I cannot bear come easily (or relatively so); things I feel prepared for devastate me. This is, I now realize, the Creator letting me know in no uncertain terms that He is in control, not me. As our friend Bud said last night, "Those times when you got through without a problem, the Father was carrying you." Footprints in the sand, walking the path of my soul...
I could not wait to bring her home, to have at least this most basic of physical manifestations with me in that now massive-seeming home. Yet, when the funeral director let me know that she was ready, I fell apart like a snowman in a hurricane. I leaned hard on BBD #3, & on dear friends to varying degrees. Mother Ruth & sister Becca went with me the next day & brought her home. I was fine all day, until I called BBD #4 to update her. As soon as that phone began to ring, I fell apart again, leaving a barely intelligible spluttering message. She texted me a response, to which I fumble-fingered an answer. After enduring my pitiful attempts at this mode of communication, she laughingly called to to put me out of my texting misery.
She was kinder & more empathetic than I had any right to expect, given the long estrangement. I told her we were stepping out onto ice we knew to be cracked, & I would take things very gently, very slowly, very tenderly so as to not hurt her again. I realized that I was being cruel to her in expressing my loneliness, as hers has been much longer a burden. She showed me grace, compassion, & great kindness. A strong woman, with a good & loving heart; I hope I can get to know it again.
I carry my darlin's ashes around the house with me, & lay the box on her pillow at night. I know she is not there, but it the last physical manifestation that I will ever have of the body I loved for most of my life, the body that bore such beautiful daughters, such a handsome son, that held so many babies, that worked & created & loved so deeply.
I have begun the process of attending bereavement counseling thru Hospice, as I try to find out who I am, now that the one who was my world is now not in this one with me. Becoming a One when I have always been a Two will be the tallest mountain I will ever climb: I pray that my journey earns me the right to meet my shining girl at the summit, to rejoin her for eternity in the Arms of our Creator.
Monday, May 19, 2008
The Longest Journey...
Dear Ones,
As many of you know, my darlin’ wife has been in failing health over the past year. She had several falls, one with a nasty concussion, & her ability to walk has deteriorated. Her Post-Polio Syndrome was proceeding rapidly, & it was difficult for her to pass on the mundane tasks of life & care to me as they became increasingly more difficult.
Through it all, her faith was unstoppable, & she refused to allow me to get her medical treatment. She had had enough of doctors, she said, after the polio, heart issues, rheumatic & scarlet fevers, 6 pregnancies, gall bladder: you get the picture. So, it was left to me & Doctor God to care for her, & I tried everything that I could think of to maximize her comfort & functionality.
On the evening of Friday April 25th, several family members visited for the evening. After they left, we spent 3 agonizing hours trying to get my beloved out of her chair, finally succeeding at 1:30am, exhilarated that we had discovered how to do it with a minimum of pain & discomfort for her. A few hours later, we tried again & she could not get up. Again we tried a couple of hours later, & she was unable to stand.
At this point, I sat down & told her that I could not do what she needed anymore, & she agreed to allow me to call 911. The paramedics were wonderful & took her to the local hospital, where she underwent several hours of intensely painful tests. They determined that she had advanced breast cancer & a mass on her liver, which was causing many of her problems. They transported her to an Austin hospital, expecting to take her to ICU. She spent most of the night in ER, & got to Intermediate Care early Saturday morning. She endured more tortuous pain as they staff evaluated her, & we got the results mid week that she indeed had an unfixable breast cancer & a mass on her liver. She did not want to undergo surgery, so we signed the Advanced Directive, her Do Not Resuscitate orders were in place, & we began the process to get her into Hospice care.
Throughout the week, as innumerable doctors came & went, poked, prodded, injected, tested, & manhandled her precious body, her spirits stayed strong. She enjoyed watching the pigeon family on the balcony, with one just learning to fly, 2 eggs, a doting mother & strutting father. True to form she was more worried for me than for herself. She told me, “I may have robbed you of a few years with a wife, but I hope you understand…” I did.
We witnessed love & cruelty, compassion & indifference, kindness & anger, as the parade of staff & volunteers seemed unending. The chaplains & social workers were of great comfort, especially when a particularly cold-hearted oncologist threatened our Hospice plan if we would not consent to yet another intensely painful test. By this time, my darlin’ was so distraught that she was unable to speak, & motioned for me to step in. I confronted this furious, hate-filled testmonger, who had deliberately misled us as to the nature of this test: (“It’s just a little needle, just a little needle…”) when in reality it entailed deflating her air bed & putting her on a flat table, which had been so painful to try earlier in the week that the nurse halted the test prep fearing a cardiac arrest due to her “howling in pain”. As she had a DNR on file, he would have had to let her die, all for a TEST! Upon my refusal to allow the test, Dr. TestMonger repeatedly threatened our Hospice plan. However, we are Wolf, & after a long, despairing night which caused my darlin’ to have severe chest pains, we rallied the troops of nurses, Drs, patient reps, social workers, chaplains, & Hospice nurses & accelerated the move to in-patient Hospice that Friday afternoon.
Despite a particularly rough & unconcerned (read 20 yrs Navy) ambulance crew chief, my darlin’ settled in, happy to be in such a comforting, loving, & beautiful setting. The intake nurse evaluated her, & filled me in on what I could expect, She said that there could be a significant & rapid decline in her condition within a couple of days, due to how she was presenting. I waved that off, telling her that my darlin’ had a really bad 24 hours before getting there, & that she would perk up once she rested & recovered from the trauma. I told her that I needed to visit with the social worker on Monday to begin evaluating skilled nursing facilities & making final arrangements, as I knew we could not stay there for long, just until her pain was under control. I was charging ahead at a full gallop when the nurse stopped me, put her hand on my knee, & said, “Mr. Hritz, at this point, we will take it 1 day at a time.”
They gave me a small booklet entitled “Gone From My Sight”, which compared death to a sailing ship nearing the horizon. As it passes out of view, we on the shore say “There she goes”: at the same time, folks on the other shore see the ship come into view & say, “Here she comes!” The booklet detailed the stages of death, & I began to check them off. She was on a morphine pump, & hallucinated all night; at one point she called to me, asking if all those people were really in the room: I told her that she & I were the only ones really there, but I knew she was in the company of loved ones that had gone before. By morning she had settled into a deep & snory sleep.
Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 visited along with her daughter & grandson. I took the opportunity to run home, tend our animals, grab some laundry & an Indian blanket she wanted. While I was gone, she had a surge of energy, telling BBD#3 that she did not know what was real & what was not, & that she thought she saw her granddaughter, who she indeed did see at her bedside. By the time I returned, she was asleep again. Family left, & I spent hours talking to my darlin’, playing my river cane Kiowa & our son’s cedar wolf Kiowa flute, playing Virgie Ravenhawk’s music, praying, thanking her for everything I could recall, praying & drumming in the Serenity Room, brushing her hair, warming her always-cold hands, & timing her breaths.
I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #4 late that night, driven by the Creator to contact her after 17 years of estrangement. She was very kind to me, & got to hear her mother’s voice. My darlin’s eyes were open almost constantly, but there was no recollection in them. I begged her to see me one last time – she could not. She did rally, taking 3 quick, deep breaths, & said “I love you, I love you, I love you…” I fell asleep at 12:30am, & again as staff tended to her comfort & showed me what to do for her. I rose at 6, grabbed a coffee, & settled in at her side again, timing breaths & watching her pulse. I asked the nurse how much of what she was doing was the morphine, which had been steadily increasing in dosage, & how much was her condition. She said very little was the morphine, that she was actively dying. I returned to her side, talking to her & watching her pulse & her breathing. I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 later that morning, & as I was holding her mother’s hand, I saw the pulse go away. I told BBD#3 what was going on, hung up & called the nurse. I noticed that her breathing had also stopped, & in the few moments before the nurse & doctor arrived, her face color changed, & I knew that my darlin’, my beloved pretty girl, my lady, my queen without a king, was gone. The nurse knew it as soon as she opened the door, & looked at me knowingly. I nodded, she checked for a pulse as the doctor distracted me, & they called her time of death at 10:49am, May 4, 2008.
The nurse hugged me, I cried with her for a while, & pointed to my beloved, saying, “That woman lying there is an amazing woman: she sang for a President at the White House, at Carnegie Hall, the ryman Auditorium, as backup for Hank Williams Sr., & she loved me for 36 years, which is the most amazing thing she did!” I closed her beautiful baby blue eyes & kissed her. They left me alone & I began to call our loved ones. They said we could keep her for up to 12 hours, the chaplain called & prayed with me, the social worker helped me contact funeral homes, & friends & family gathered to honor her & lift me up.
Praise the Creator that she is no longer in pain, or discomfort: she is a bright shining light in the presence of God: she does not need to walk now, for she can fly. She will live forever in glory, & I pray that I can live my life well enough to join her for eternity.
There were many moments of joy through this journey: I will detail them in a later post. Please forgive that I have not posted sooner.
Blessings & Light,
Michael
As many of you know, my darlin’ wife has been in failing health over the past year. She had several falls, one with a nasty concussion, & her ability to walk has deteriorated. Her Post-Polio Syndrome was proceeding rapidly, & it was difficult for her to pass on the mundane tasks of life & care to me as they became increasingly more difficult.
Through it all, her faith was unstoppable, & she refused to allow me to get her medical treatment. She had had enough of doctors, she said, after the polio, heart issues, rheumatic & scarlet fevers, 6 pregnancies, gall bladder: you get the picture. So, it was left to me & Doctor God to care for her, & I tried everything that I could think of to maximize her comfort & functionality.
On the evening of Friday April 25th, several family members visited for the evening. After they left, we spent 3 agonizing hours trying to get my beloved out of her chair, finally succeeding at 1:30am, exhilarated that we had discovered how to do it with a minimum of pain & discomfort for her. A few hours later, we tried again & she could not get up. Again we tried a couple of hours later, & she was unable to stand.
At this point, I sat down & told her that I could not do what she needed anymore, & she agreed to allow me to call 911. The paramedics were wonderful & took her to the local hospital, where she underwent several hours of intensely painful tests. They determined that she had advanced breast cancer & a mass on her liver, which was causing many of her problems. They transported her to an Austin hospital, expecting to take her to ICU. She spent most of the night in ER, & got to Intermediate Care early Saturday morning. She endured more tortuous pain as they staff evaluated her, & we got the results mid week that she indeed had an unfixable breast cancer & a mass on her liver. She did not want to undergo surgery, so we signed the Advanced Directive, her Do Not Resuscitate orders were in place, & we began the process to get her into Hospice care.
Throughout the week, as innumerable doctors came & went, poked, prodded, injected, tested, & manhandled her precious body, her spirits stayed strong. She enjoyed watching the pigeon family on the balcony, with one just learning to fly, 2 eggs, a doting mother & strutting father. True to form she was more worried for me than for herself. She told me, “I may have robbed you of a few years with a wife, but I hope you understand…” I did.
We witnessed love & cruelty, compassion & indifference, kindness & anger, as the parade of staff & volunteers seemed unending. The chaplains & social workers were of great comfort, especially when a particularly cold-hearted oncologist threatened our Hospice plan if we would not consent to yet another intensely painful test. By this time, my darlin’ was so distraught that she was unable to speak, & motioned for me to step in. I confronted this furious, hate-filled testmonger, who had deliberately misled us as to the nature of this test: (“It’s just a little needle, just a little needle…”) when in reality it entailed deflating her air bed & putting her on a flat table, which had been so painful to try earlier in the week that the nurse halted the test prep fearing a cardiac arrest due to her “howling in pain”. As she had a DNR on file, he would have had to let her die, all for a TEST! Upon my refusal to allow the test, Dr. TestMonger repeatedly threatened our Hospice plan. However, we are Wolf, & after a long, despairing night which caused my darlin’ to have severe chest pains, we rallied the troops of nurses, Drs, patient reps, social workers, chaplains, & Hospice nurses & accelerated the move to in-patient Hospice that Friday afternoon.
Despite a particularly rough & unconcerned (read 20 yrs Navy) ambulance crew chief, my darlin’ settled in, happy to be in such a comforting, loving, & beautiful setting. The intake nurse evaluated her, & filled me in on what I could expect, She said that there could be a significant & rapid decline in her condition within a couple of days, due to how she was presenting. I waved that off, telling her that my darlin’ had a really bad 24 hours before getting there, & that she would perk up once she rested & recovered from the trauma. I told her that I needed to visit with the social worker on Monday to begin evaluating skilled nursing facilities & making final arrangements, as I knew we could not stay there for long, just until her pain was under control. I was charging ahead at a full gallop when the nurse stopped me, put her hand on my knee, & said, “Mr. Hritz, at this point, we will take it 1 day at a time.”
They gave me a small booklet entitled “Gone From My Sight”, which compared death to a sailing ship nearing the horizon. As it passes out of view, we on the shore say “There she goes”: at the same time, folks on the other shore see the ship come into view & say, “Here she comes!” The booklet detailed the stages of death, & I began to check them off. She was on a morphine pump, & hallucinated all night; at one point she called to me, asking if all those people were really in the room: I told her that she & I were the only ones really there, but I knew she was in the company of loved ones that had gone before. By morning she had settled into a deep & snory sleep.
Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 visited along with her daughter & grandson. I took the opportunity to run home, tend our animals, grab some laundry & an Indian blanket she wanted. While I was gone, she had a surge of energy, telling BBD#3 that she did not know what was real & what was not, & that she thought she saw her granddaughter, who she indeed did see at her bedside. By the time I returned, she was asleep again. Family left, & I spent hours talking to my darlin’, playing my river cane Kiowa & our son’s cedar wolf Kiowa flute, playing Virgie Ravenhawk’s music, praying, thanking her for everything I could recall, praying & drumming in the Serenity Room, brushing her hair, warming her always-cold hands, & timing her breaths.
I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #4 late that night, driven by the Creator to contact her after 17 years of estrangement. She was very kind to me, & got to hear her mother’s voice. My darlin’s eyes were open almost constantly, but there was no recollection in them. I begged her to see me one last time – she could not. She did rally, taking 3 quick, deep breaths, & said “I love you, I love you, I love you…” I fell asleep at 12:30am, & again as staff tended to her comfort & showed me what to do for her. I rose at 6, grabbed a coffee, & settled in at her side again, timing breaths & watching her pulse. I asked the nurse how much of what she was doing was the morphine, which had been steadily increasing in dosage, & how much was her condition. She said very little was the morphine, that she was actively dying. I returned to her side, talking to her & watching her pulse & her breathing. I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 later that morning, & as I was holding her mother’s hand, I saw the pulse go away. I told BBD#3 what was going on, hung up & called the nurse. I noticed that her breathing had also stopped, & in the few moments before the nurse & doctor arrived, her face color changed, & I knew that my darlin’, my beloved pretty girl, my lady, my queen without a king, was gone. The nurse knew it as soon as she opened the door, & looked at me knowingly. I nodded, she checked for a pulse as the doctor distracted me, & they called her time of death at 10:49am, May 4, 2008.
The nurse hugged me, I cried with her for a while, & pointed to my beloved, saying, “That woman lying there is an amazing woman: she sang for a President at the White House, at Carnegie Hall, the ryman Auditorium, as backup for Hank Williams Sr., & she loved me for 36 years, which is the most amazing thing she did!” I closed her beautiful baby blue eyes & kissed her. They left me alone & I began to call our loved ones. They said we could keep her for up to 12 hours, the chaplain called & prayed with me, the social worker helped me contact funeral homes, & friends & family gathered to honor her & lift me up.
Praise the Creator that she is no longer in pain, or discomfort: she is a bright shining light in the presence of God: she does not need to walk now, for she can fly. She will live forever in glory, & I pray that I can live my life well enough to join her for eternity.
There were many moments of joy through this journey: I will detail them in a later post. Please forgive that I have not posted sooner.
Blessings & Light,
Michael
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