I know, I haven't blogged in awhile.... life's been life.. and I haven't felt the need to say anything. And if I am being totally honest, I really, really, REALLY didn't want to write this blog. But sometimes, at least with me, an idea and thought just won't let me go, and I have to put it into words, even if no one else reads it. This is the case today. So here it goes...a really honest blog... that I didn't want to write...
The photo above is one the last good photos I have of my mom. It's at my sons wedding and there she is, standing so very proudly right next to him. It was a day that she never thought she would witness. While the story of this photo shows my son with his very proud grandparents, it doesn't show the backstory.
The backstory is that my mom is deathly ill. She flew out to attend Keagan's wedding, even though she was in unimaginable pain. She's losing large amounts of weight by this time, struggling to eat, and on crazy amounts of medication just to function. She is losing her long battle with cancer.
I remember watching her that morning as she tried to eat a little something with trembling hands. I remember her doubling up on pain meds so that she could go and sit through the wedding and reception. I remember that her prosthesis (the one in her stoma that helped her talk) was leaking again, causing her to choke on everything she tried to swallow. I remember her painstakingly, slowly, getting ready-- making herself pretty ( and even in the depths of cancer, she was still beautiful) for Keagan's big day.
At my Mom's memorial service a couple of weeks ago, Dr. Beacham said, "Grief is a love language." And I haven't been able to get these words out of my head ever since. He's right, it is a love language, for if you didn't have love for the person you would feel no grief.
But I have to be honest and admit that I am loathing this particular love language. And it's not that I am unfamiliar with the language of grief. I have grieved family and friends that I have lost, several of them just this year. I have even grieved lost opportunities throughout my life, I have grieved the loss of pets, I have grieved with our nation when acts of violence or natural disasters have struck.
But this grief is deeper, longer, and harder... and I hate every minute of it. I have grieved mom's initial diagnosis and prognosis of 5 years (that was 14 years ago BTW). I have grieved with mom over the loss of her voice box due to cancer. I have grieved over the pain my mom endured through 3 separate rounds of radiation. I have grieved over the countless surgeries she endured to "cut out" tumors, enlarge her esophagus, put in new prosthesis, etc.... I grieved when after each round of radiation mom endured thrush infections that made an already very sore mouth and throat worse. I have grieved when people mistakenly thought that my Mom's cancer was somehow caused by a life choice-- many assumed she was a smoker, which she was not. And as a side note, even if she had been, compassion for her circumstance should overrule your sense of "justice" or "consequence caused by action." I grieved over her loss of self esteem due to her permanent stoma, something she didn't speak about out loud to many people, but I know she felt deeply. I have grieved over every new MRI-- which always showed more bad news. And I grieved at her bedside, when the last few days she struggled so hard to breath, and she weighed less than 80 pounds, and she couldn't even muster the strength to talk. I grieved.....
I am still grieving, and as much as I want to rush this process because I personally tend to be impatient with this sort of thing, this high emotion-- it is not a natural state for me and therefore highly uncomfortable-- I can't. And the worst part for me is that it hits me at the most unappealing, inopportune times. Like when I'm checking out at the grocery store and the innocent young clerk says something that reminds me of mom-- and I can't get checked out quick enough before the tears well up... or when a waitress (who was so lovely and kind and caring) asked me why I had been in Colorado and I chocked out the reason between tears.... I hate crying in public... and this stupid grief-love has me doing it.
Even more unexpected and uncomfortable is the re-rising of the anger and outrage over the whole cancer thing. This is stuff I thought I had come to grips with years ago. Truly, I felt like I had made my peace with it and had let it go. And yet, those initial questions are sneaking into my brain once again. I find myself having some of those same serious, angry, and hard discussions with God again...
And then there are the new worries... worries for my Dad and how he is doing. And I am trying not to "Mother Him," his words.. but I really want to. Just saying.... And worries for my brother, who was truly a Momma's boy and who is dealing with great sorrow... and worries for my son and nephews, who are all admittedly "Memaw's boys"... and the list goes on...
If you have made it to this point in the blog...BLESS YOU! That's a lot of mess to throw out there. And I wanted to throw it out there, so that you know that the struggle is real and raw... But... and it's the but that is the important part of this whole monologue, there is more.
BUT GOD..... The hope in this hard love language of grief is God. Through all of this... this big emotion... these real and hard circumstances.... God shows up. And He keeps showing up, in spite of my anger, in spite of my disappointment, in spite of my pain, and in spite of my desire for this whole process to just be over already. He always shows up.
Sometimes it's in the form of friends. Throughout this process, my family and I have been deeply supported by amazing friends. I know I have had friends that have taken it upon themselves to pray for my mom every Monday-- for the past 9-10 years a group of us have agreed to pray every Monday for each other and our families-- that's dedicated friendship. Not showy, not flashy, but the deep and abiding love of God making itself known. I have had friends who have dropped everything to simply show up at the hospital to sit with us. We even had friends who were in the room with us as mom died-- which is a hard thing to see and be present at. My friends have called, sent messages, texts and cards, brought food, sent flowers, watched my house and cat while we were gone. You name it, they have done it. God showed up in our friends, reminding us that we are not on the journey alone.
Sometimes God shows up in the form of strangers. The day after mom died, we needed to eat, but none of us were up for sitting around mom and dad's house eating.. so we went out to my mom and Dad's favorite Mexican food restaurant. And God showed up in the form of an amazing waiter named Jason. Jason knew my parents were regulars at the restaurant. And he later knew that Dad would often come alone once mom was too sick to come and eat. Upon seeing my dad enter, he loudly called out, "Hello, Paublo D. Clark!" It's his nickname for my dad whose name is Paul. While dad told him quietly about mom's passing, we arranged for a table for all of us. Jason, knowing the circumstances asked to be relocated to cover our table. Now I have to tell you, if you have never been heckled by a waiter in an authentic Mexican food restaurant, you are missing out. And Jason is a master of fun and laughter. Just what we needed after some serious and hard days. But in the middle of heckling my Italian husband for ordering Italian dressing for his "salad" at a Mexican restaurant, and my nephew for ordering hot wings, Jason paused and gathered our family around him for the sweetest, most sincere prayer I have ever witnessed. God showed up in the form of Jason and reminded us that He was there, and that we could still laugh in spite of our grief.
Sometimes God shows up in those closest to you. My dear husband Jeff, who is also grieving, has shown me the love that God intended in a marriage. Jeff handled getting last minute plane tickets to Denver, all while cancelling our travel plans for our anniversary celebration, without me having to worry about getting it done. Jeff has patiently endured some weepy dinners when I have been overwhelmed at the end of a stressful and heartbreaking day. He has shared with me his own earned grief wisdom. For those who do not know, Jeff had an older brother who was killed in a car wreck when he was a teenager-- so Jeff knows deep grief-- and what the process is like. God gave me the perfect grief partner in the form of an amazing spouse.
And so, even though this is a raw and hard blog, I do want you have hope in this promise, that God will never leave you nor forsake you! It's a truth that I have lived, and am still living. I should also add that this grief isn't all consuming. Most of my day is not spent in overwhelming grief. I experience more joy during the day than I do grief-- which is also God showing up in moments of happiness or contentment, or even wonder at the world. And not all memories of mom are sad. I am blessed to have countless good and happy memories of her.
So if you are experiencing grief in your life, I challenge you to invite God to show up. And then look for Him--in big and small ways-- for I believe that if you truly seek Him you will find Him all around you.
I'll leave you with just a few photos of my mom. She truly was a beautiful person!
