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Staying Sane

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I remember the day Dad died. I’d never seen anyone die before, and it was traumatic. He’d fallen backwards onto concrete, breaking his pelvis in 13 pieces. Although he was 92 and ought not to have been immobilized, there was no medical choice. Nothing was going to put his pelvis back together except traction and time, although the doctor knew other health issues would arise if Dad lay still in a bed too long.

Two weeks later, still in traction, he began battling the consequences of being made to lie still: blood clots, mini-heart attacks, bed sores, threats of stroke. Eventually his kidneys failed, his lungs filled with fluid and as he died, he gasped for air, unconscious but struggling to breathe. When this happened, I looked away. It was awful to see him gasp in a choking way, even though it lasted only a few seconds. I panicked and cried, “What’s he doing?” In short, I acted badly.

After we learned of Nate’s terminal cancer, I thought back to Dad’s death scene. I told myself, “I’ve got to do better than that. I want to be Nate’s partner in suffering if I can, and I want to stay focused on him and his needs, all the way to the end.”

None of us knew what to expect, not on any one day and certainly not in those final moments, whenever they would come. But I trusted God to strengthen us and bring understanding as we needed it. I sometimes woke during the night trying to picture the end, craving God’s preparation for what would happen and the role I would need to fulfill. I knew one thing for sure; I didn’t want to turn away from my husband the way I’d turned away from my dad.

As I prayed about the unknowns of my assignment, God seemed to impress on me that if I committed my mind to his keeping, everything else would be ok. The physical part would work itself out day by day, and I knew the emotional stuff would be accompanied by tears and sadness. But if my mind was submitted to God, I knew I could partner with Nate, no matter what.

Scripture kept me calm. The verse that helped most was Romans 12:2.”Be transformed by the renewing of your mind so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.”

I knew if I asked God to transform me by renewing my mind every day, I would be ready for whatever came. Another verse I prayed back to God countless times was Philippians 1:7. It said that if I called out to God, letting him know what I needed, acknowledging the blessings while I was in the struggles, his peace would keep my mind through Christ Jesus. I believed that meant he would keep me from being overwhelmed or unable to cope. He would keep me sane.

Often during those six weeks, along with the wake and funeral days that followed, I felt my mind tip-toeing around the edge of panic. But when that happened, I could almost feel God tapping me on the shoulder as if to say, “Remember what I told you. Claim the words again for your mind. If you stay focused on me, you’ll be filled with peace.”

Verse Plaque 2

God kept his word and kept me sane.

”Know the God of your father, and serve him with a whole heart and a willing mind; for the Lord searches all hearts, and understands every intent of the thoughts. If you seek Him, He will let you find Him.” (1 Chronicles 28:9)

Giving Thanks

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Our first Thanksgiving without Nate was just as I’d expected. We went through the same preparations as usual, used the same decorations, set up tables and chairs for 24 and served the traditional menu. For me, the hardest part came during the prayer before dinner when my brother-in-law thanked the Lord for Nate. Overall, the day was successful with three generations of people present, a fire in the fireplace all day and cheerful conversation. But for me, the sparkle and joy of the day was missing.

My widow friends warned me about the difficulty of each “first” without Nate and the shift that will take place in my thinking. I’m beginning to understand what they mean. When it came time to eat today, 16 month old Skylar flipped into a meltdown, and it was a blessing to be able to take her upstairs for a time of calm and quiet. We sat on the floor in Louisa’s bedroom and played with her make-up while guests downstairs filled their plates and started to eat. It wouldn’t have bothered me at all not to have eaten Thanksgiving dinner.

When Skylar’s daddy came upstairs to take over, I rejoined the meal, but after a salad and a few bites of broccoli, I was done. It just wasn’t any fun without Nate. He always loved entertaining and started celebrating early on Thanksgiving. “Where are the cashews? Can I open them now?” Today, without him asking how many pounds the turkey was and what time the shrimp would be served, the whole effort seemed to fall flat. My cheerleader was gone.

Nate and turkey, small

Yet it was Thanksgiving. I wanted to be thankful. When I began looking for positives, I found them:

  • Nelson’s friend Angelo, a professional chef, had joined us, bringing two giant sweet potato pies and a chocolate cake as rich as Fanny May candy. He also stepped forward to make creamy mashed potatoes and carved both turkeys with artistic flare.
  • My brother and his family joined us this year when usually they spend Thanksgiving with his wife’s family. This was a special treat.
  • Our next door neighbors offered as much firewood as we wanted, and the boys kept the fire going from morning till midnight.
  • Someone found an old VHS video, and we all chuckled to watch a very animated Nate open birthday gifts on his 45th birthday.
  • The college-age cousins, eight of them, washed all the dishes, quite a feat in a tiny kitchen without a dishwasher.
  • A young family friend who’d joined us for Thanksgivings many years ago returned today, a breath of fresh air.
  • And the three dogs, one from each family, got along swimmingly.
  • Best of all, the Lord was present in our home today, and he was the subject of our thanks.

I was also grateful to fall into bed at 1:45 am in my new fleece ‘jammies with the thought that our first Thanksgiving without Nate was over. It would have been better if he’d been with us, but it was far from disastrous. God had gently given us a peek into our new normal while assuring us, “You will make it, because I’m going with you.”

“This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

Weekly Cards

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Some fathers are gifted to relate well to babies and young children. Others do better with school aged youngsters. Nate was his best with college kids and the years beyond. He grew into an adult relationship with each one of our kids effortlessly as they passed from late teens into twenty-somethings and older.

Every Sunday afternoon, Nate’s main activity was to write to each one of his children who lived away from home, whether that was in college, at camp, on a mission trip or adult kids living on their own. His “letters” were written on simple index cards, sometimes 3 x 5, sometimes 4 x 6, in his often illegible penmanship. Sometimes he wrote in bullet points, and the kids joked about how much information he could pack onto one card. All of them saved these cards.

notecards1

When he wrote to the kids, he often summarized our week at home but other times would challenge them at a deeper level or commiserate with their current problems. Sometimes he quoted a verse or two, and many times he’d make a point of telling them how much he loved them.

When Nate learned he had terminal cancer, one of the things he wanted to do before he died was write out one last card for each of the kids. His goal was to meet with them individually to give them the card and also give them each an opportunity to clear the air, in case there were any issues they wanted to discuss with him. He was ready for anything, including possible criticisms, and wanted to apologize if any of them had something bothering them from the past. He told me he wanted to express fatherly love for each one and then would deliver his last card.

His pancreatic cancer was, as one of my friends put it, a “damnable cancer.” It raced through his body like a million bolts of lightning, missing nothing in its assault. And the sad truth was, Nate ran out of time to do everything he wanted. Once he’d told me about his goal to meet with each of the seven kids and have a card ready for them, I encouraged him to do one card each day after we spent time talking about that particular son or daughter.

He had only six weeks total, although we didn’t know that then, and a couple of weeks slipped by as we were consumed with radiation, separate doctor appointments and endless tests. But not one day went by when he didn’t say, “I hope I can work on the cards today.” By the third week, he was worn out, and we could both see he might run out of time if he didn’t get it done soon. It was becoming difficult to write, and when he was exhausted, it was hard to concentrate.

At that point, he asked if he could dictate the cards to me while I typed on the computer. We tried to complete one each day in this way, climbing in the car and leaving the commotion at home if necessary, in order to get them done.

We did finish them, but by that time, Nate’s health had deteriorated so rapidly, we both feared the one-on-one meetings might not happen. There were many one-on-one conversations in bits and pieces, but the planned meetings to deliver the cards did not take place.

Tonight after dinner I passed out the completed cards. The author has been gone for 12 days. As I watched the kids quietly read them, I started to cry, wishing Nate had not died. We’d had an animated family day, and I just couldn’t believe he hadn’t been a part of it.

Reading Nate’s last pointed communication to them, some of the kids began to cry, too. It was a powerful few moments as the fire crackled and nobody spoke. I’ll probably never know the variety of emotions that rushed through each of their minds, but in a way, the most important part of the evening was that Nate was indeed very much present, through his words. As always, the cards were encouraging, complimenting, challenging and loving.

“But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13-13)