Ten Thousand Reasons to Keep Going After a Loss

Last night, my oldest son Joseph did something that was a gift to me, but he didn't realize how much of gift it would become.  On the Flint Hill fields last night during flag football practice Matt Redman's "10,000 Reasons" was playing over the sound system.  Later that night after we got home Joseph said he had downloaded some sheet music.  He went downstairs and I heard the chords to "10,000 Reasons".  He was trying to sight read the first page.

Of all the songs he could have chosen, he picked this one.  I know it had to have been because he heard it played at the field last night as well.  Plus, the piano is so lovely.

This song..... oh this song.....  I couldn't listen to it all the way through for months after my mom died.

This morning I sight read the entire piece on our piano.... twice.
Yes, there were tears in my eyes..... those chords at the beginning always get to me.

In June of 2012 my mother was extremely sick and on Hospice care.  She was weak and more fragile than I had ever seen her in my entire life.  Something in my gut told me in May she would be with us through June but I was not sure how long after that.  It was the gnawing sensation that I knew she was going to die, but the "when" escaped me.  I had the heaviest heart for that month of June.

Through those precious days and four weeks she continued to smile, laugh, and be who she was... so full of love for all of us she loved so very dearly despite how badly she felt physically.

There was a song Mike was playing on his lap top during that time which really ministered to me.  "10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman.   The words to the song really spoke deeply to me especially the part about keeping on singing.  When my heart knew my mom couldn't sing because of her ailing body which was failing on so many levels, I was going to keep singing in my heart for both of us.  That's what I thought and what I wrote about as I grieved the anticipation of losing her 2 weeks before she died.

For weeks it was like my life flashing before my eyes thinking of all of the wonderful things Mom had done for me.  Who she was.  How I had so much of her in my heart.  She saved my life quite literally in ways only a mother can save it.  How do you adequately thank someone for choosing you as her daughter?  How?  Is it even possible?  All of these thoughts of thankfulness, gratitude to God, and how much I loved and appreciated her flooded my mind that June.  She had become such a part of me and I wasn't ready to let go of that.  All of us were having such a hard time with watching her decline.

So I wrote this post on June 24, 2012 and she passed away 6 nights later.  Bless the Lord Oh My Soul
(Click the link to read, it's very short! Lyrics to the song found there.)  It was about this very song, "10,000 Reasons".   Yes, the song I played this morning on our piano!

The entire lyrics to the song are so powerful.....  it ends not with death, but HOPE.

"And on that day when my strength is failing,
The end draws near and my time has come,
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending,
10,000 years and then forever more! "


This song talks about God's goodness.  He is our reason to get up in the morning!  He is our reason to keep singing!  He is who is at our bedside when our bodies are failing.  He is who is with us in the life to come!  The entire song speaks of his holiness, goodness, and how worthy he is of our praise!  

10,000 Reasons to keep going..... I've got a big one the Lord has provided at the moment.....

This baby grand piano that now sits in a corner of our house has most certainly become a treasured gift.  It has proven to be the BEST thing I have ever purchased in my adult life outside of our homes.  It is used and 15 years old, but the previous owner took such good care of it and I am so grateful for that.

I told the Lord that if he helped me learn to play well again or even better than I used to after all of these years that I would keep playing.  AND.... I would play for others.

This desire to play has captivated my heart and the desire to play for others has as well.  Seeing the boys play and hearing piano music in our house on a daily basis makes me smile and I know my parents would have been happy to be a part of that.

My dad always wanted a baby grand.  He used to joke about it.  "But Joe, you don't play!" my mother would tell him.  His response was, "I know, but she does...." and he would point to me.

He was always telling me to "play some more please."  So I would.  I'm telling our boys that too.

We never got a baby grand piano even though my father would have loved to have had one.  I never thought I'd ever own one myself even though I secretly dreamed of that since I was a child.   Anytime Dad saw one, he would marvel over what a beautiful instrument it was.  He loved piano music and grew up listening to George Gershwin records as a teen.  If alive today on this earth would he be giddy that this instrument is in our home?  Absolutely!  Most importantly he would be super excited that it was not just "sitting looking pretty" but that it was played....every single day.  Mom would feel the same way.

10,000 reasons to keep going after a loss..... I have not come up with 10,000 reasons yet, but I may start a list and see how many ones I can come up with then if I get to 1000, I will just multiply those by 10 and say, "Do those things 10 times."

I've got ONE big new reason right now among many others.   When the boys and I can get our repertoires together we will start playing for seniors and Alzheimer's patients.

Thinking on how I could not listen to this song for months and months at all and then for more months without a tear in my eye.  Today I can listen to the entire thing and be ok.  Playing it on the piano however?  Wow..... would I have thought that would happen in June 2012?  It will still remind me of my mother though she did not ever know of or hear the song.

So I'm thanking my son today when I pick him up from school.  This gift of sheet music is more than he realized.  He downloaded it for himself, but actually he did it for me.  Thank you Lord for ministering to me through music, my son, and the loving memory of my mother.

Saturday's Silence in the Garden

The Saturday before Easter it was quiet.  Jesus' body had been taken down off the cross the day before.  He was in the darkened tomb and it was sealed.  

There must have been a lot of confusion and grief that day with those who loved Jesus.  The aftershock of what had happened the day before weighed on their hearts....so many questions in the minds of the disciples.  Saturday must have been quiet on the outside, but emotional turmoil on the inside of Jesus' beloved followers.

I find it interesting that the Easter story involves a day of rest, a sabbath of sorts before the resurrection.  There is a silence and quiet where there is nothing written down to let us know what happened exactly that day.  We can only imagine.  What we do know is Jesus' body is lying in the tomb and there are those who feel like their world has been shattered.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the columbarium at Myers Park UMC, with a daffodil in hand to put in my parents' niche.  The columbarium is actually a garden outside Francis Chapel and the niches are on the side of the chapel all the way around.  There are camellia bushes flanking one side and an angel fountain on the other.  A large Tulip Magnolia tree is at the entrance and a Crepe Myrtle next to a bench.  The Tulip tree was blooming that evening that I stopped by the garden.

I decided to take photos of it because it is such a reminder to me of new life, Easter and the resurrection.  That tree will always bloom around the time of my father's death and my mother's birthday.  

It's like a message from God as I enter the gate....
" 'I am the resurrection and the life....'  Don't worry Judith, your folks and all of my beloved laid to rest here are alive with me.  You just have to wait awhile to see them again."


In the past, I didn't spend too much time thinking about Holy Saturday.  It was the day before Easter when nothing was really going on.  It was the day to get ready for Easter or do my own thing.  In my mind, it seemed ok not to ponder Holy Saturday too deeply, so I didn't.

Then my parents died 9 months apart and everything changed.

My Holy Saturday became my Dad's funeral.....March 30, also what would have been my mother's 83 birthday.  Dad and Mom never missed celebrating her birthday together. 
They were together now in that earthly niche and alive with Christ in eternity.

That Holy Saturday was a blur.  It was only 2 Easters ago.  It seems like yesterday.

Walking two people home whom I  love, has taught me about grief.  I know what it feels like the day after you lose someone.  One day they are here, the next they are gone and it feels like your world has been turned upside down. 

You remember the suffering they went through and how you felt as if you were staring death in the face.  In fact you were, but what you couldn't see was what Jesus was renewing on the inside.  That was what kept me going when I walked through the valley with them their final weeks of life.  Even through the deepest part of my sadness, there was much peace, comfort, and assurance of God's love.  Death was the door to life and I knew that, but that head knowledge became real to me when I was there in those final moments with my parents.  It changed my life.  

Jesus' followers only had to wait through Holy Saturday before seeing Him again.  Easter was coming, they just didn't know it yet.

We are still waiting in the garden with our losses, fears, doubts and hurts.... I'm still waiting in the garden to see Jesus face to face.  I'm not alone.  We're not alone because the Holy Spirit is with us and He waits too, with blessed assurance and hope.  

Spring continues all around us as signs that this is not the end.  When the sun comes up, it is a promise of a new day.  I may be still waiting in the garden by the tomb, but I know that Jesus is there with me patiently comforting me as I wait, renewing my spirit with hope that death is not the end.

Death has been conquered because of His great love for us!
Jesus is the resurrection and the life!  

Easter is almost here!  

The Dream Which Prepared Me

A couple of months before my Dad passed away I had a dream, a vision even you might say of something incredibly special.  It prepared me for the time of my father's passing when I could look back on those images I had and know God was with me.  He was taking care of my parents and I should have no doubts about that.

The images were in black in white.

The setting was heaven.

It was the day my Dad arrived in heaven.

Leading up to these images, my dad had been suffering a lot over the past 3 years.  Alzheimer's disease had stolen so much of the father I knew. It was brutal and cruel.  It stole his language skills.  It stole his memories.  It caused him to be feeble, unsteady on his feet and feel like he was in a deep dark place at times which I could never imagine.  We were his lights in the darkness in his time of need.  We were his champions.  His cheerleaders.  His steady anchors in a very scary unsettling time.  Our mom lit up his life every single time he was in her presence.  Their love for each other was quite something to behold.  It was like this precious gem or treasure to us.  Their love was so deep and selfless.  Staff at the Carriage Club talked about how special a couple they were all the time.

"I'm going to see my bride!" he'd tell the staff when he had to sign out of assisted living to walk over to see Mom in another building.
Replies were often, "Oh, I know you are going to see your sweetie pie!  She's waiting for you now!  Be good!"
He loved the banter back and forth with the staff.  They loved my parents.

Mom would giggle and smile when she saw him.  If she were asleep when Dad arrived, he'd let her sleep.  He knew she needed rest.  When she woke up he was there smiling at her.  Just like when living independently on their own in their own home, Dad was the one to wake her up from her naps.

Every visit was sacred time.

Mom his bride Christmas Day 2010

Every visit for me became sacred time as well.  This was true for both my parents.  I loved spending time with both of them no matter how sad either of their conditions became. They brought me joy so often and I longed to hear their laughs, see their smiles and hear their "I love you" one more time.  In my Dad's case, it helped me to see that he was still "Dad" underneath his illness.

Spending part of our weekends at the Carriage Club after Mom passed was something I always looked forward to with my brother.  We loved it when he had good days and joked with us.

A good day in February 2013 when he started to bounce back a bit.

We helped to bring his memories back to life.  We cherished him.  We loved him, hugged him, laughed with him, cried with him and made him feel like he was still our hero.

He was.

Easter 2012

He would always be that to my brother and I.  Our hero of a dad who poured out his love and life into us, his kids, Mom his bride, his friends and to the church and community he loved so dearly.  He was so special.  He was funny.  He was compassionate and strong, my anchor and security so often.  He was an ever present calming presence in my life too until the very end.

Alzheimer's truly broke my heart those first 2 months in 2013.  It had already done a pretty good job of doing so the past 3 years.  Watching the decline of your dad and the process of what he went through…..the fear, anxiety, confusion, paranoia and loss of complete control of his life was like a spear in my heart.  There is nothing we could do to stop it. Alzheimer's was not about to slow down at this point.  So we did everything we could do to soften it, to love, to bring joy, to validate, to affirm and we became very good at living in the moment and appreciating every single tiny blessing along the way.

My dad had fallen and bumped his head at the end of December.  He required a trip to the ER to get his head checked out which turned into another trip to the ER the next day and then followed with a case bronchitis.  I was worried about him. My brother was worried about him.  This was a tough blow and I had never seen my father unable to feed himself before or look at me and not respond when I was talking to him directly.  He would stare off into space like I was not there when he was so sick with the bronchitis.  He basically could not stand on his own.  He did not have a lot of strength at all and ever single bit of strength going to his healing seemed to leave his mind fast behind.  That's when the wheel chair was ordered, the lift, and the hospital bed.  All of which he needed desperately but all of which crushed me silently.  Dad was slipping deeper into stage 6 of dementia, a place none of us ever wanted him to reach.

The step down was as if a light had been turned off in my father's brain.  It was one of the scariest things I'd ever seen happen to my dad.

I cried another ocean of tears for him those months.

This vision I had truly came to me from above I think, to prepare me for what was coming.  As I look back now I can see that clearly.  It was preparing me for his death to come almost 3 months later, the day after Palm Sunday.  It was preparing me with hope.
It was giving me a tiny glimpse of what that hope might look like in this finite mind of mine.

The scene was like this……

My dad enters heaven.  He looks like he's 20 years old. He's well.  He doesn't have any disease or illness.  He is the spitting image of good health.  He is restored.  He is standing there facing Jesus.  Jesus has on a white robe.  My dad is in jeans and a plaid shirt.  His jeans are rolled up a notch at the foot.  He has on loafers.  They greet one another and they embrace.  Jesus has his arm around Dad and Dad has his arm on Jesus' shoulder.  They are talking, smiling and laughing. I have NO idea what they are saying to each other.  You can tell they have a relationship.  They are patting each other on the arm like they have known each other for years.   Jesus is my dad's dear friend.

Picture my dad sent to my mother .while was in the Navy

Then the scene switches.  Jesus and Dad are still standing there but over Jesus' right shoulder my mother appears in the distance.  She's wearing clothing from the 1950's.  She looks like she is 23 years old.  She has a smile on her face.  She does not wave.  She just stands there and waits.

Dad stops talking with Jesus and looks over Jesus' shoulder with amazement.  His eyes open wide.  That million dollar smile my daddy always had ensues.

"ETHEL??"

My mom responds, "JOE?!!" (She's been with Jesus for awhile now.)

He looks up to Jesus' face and Jesus says with a smile and gleam in his eye, "It's ok, Joe.  Go ahead," just like a parent would do.

My dad gives him a smile and a wink, squeezes Jesus' hand and mouths a "thank you" and Dad takes off running in those jeans and loafers.

My mom starts running toward Dad.

They meet with an embrace as my daddy delivers the swing hug of a lifetime.
A heavenly swing hug.

They are SMILING and SO HAPPY!
There is no Type 1 diabetes.  There is no Non Hodgkins Lyphoma.  There is no dementia.

Then the visions stops.

That is all.  There is nothing else.

Those images of my parents young, happy, at peace, and with their Lord brought me so much peace at this time of uncertainty and trial with Dad.  I thought about it and saw this in my head several times.
I simply held on to it and could not forget it.

In my Grief Share class I shared it.  I cried when I did.  It was this special gift from God which calmed me.  I knew Dad missed Mom.  We all knew it well even if he did not express it well.

Now my parents are together.  They are in the presence of their Lord. One day they will be completely renewed.  I'll see them again.  I will and this brings me so much comfort.

Thankful Each Day is New

Photo by Judith Poston Crovi  taken at Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens Spring 2012

It's a new day!  (I need a new day....don't we all?)

Thank you Lord for letting me begin again fresh.

Whatever You need me to do today Lord,

I pray you give me the strength to do it (and with a good 

attitude) as well as your peace and comfort as we walk out 

this day together, You and I.

Amen.

The Adoption Poem

There is a poem about adoption which my mother shared with me decades ago as a child.  It is a poem which has stuck with me all of my life.  It is a well known poem and is short, sweet, and to the point.  It is a love poem and one which I cherish.

It goes like this....

"Not flesh of my flesh,
Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.

Never forget for a single minute
That you did not grow under my heart,
But in it!"

An adoptive parent's love for their adopted child wrapped up in these few words.  As a child, when I would often read this poem I thought about my mother's heart.  I thought about the fact that I was not part of her actual body.  There was absolutely nothing genetically in me that was a part of her.  She never carried me in her womb, I was never "under her heart".  She did not go through midnight cravings with me, aches and pains, morning sickness, nor the joyful moments of first feeling me kick in her womb.  She never went through the pain of childbirth with me.  None of those things we shared.  I really did ponder these facts.  

My mom had actually had two precious babies grow under her heart years prior to my brother's and my adoption, only to miscarry them both in her 2nd trimester both times because of Type 1 diabetes.  She did have joyful experiences of being an expectant mother.  She also felt tremendous grief and pain I would imagine.  She simply could not carry these precious ones in her womb until birth.  It just wasn't possible.  The doctors also told her if she were to continue to try to have more children with Dad that she was putting her life at substantial risk.  She must have been very ill during part of each of her pregnancies.  Mom was never able to hold her babies in her arms at birth, but she was able to hold us as babies in her arms.

There were times when thinking about my mother and my father that I so wished that I was physically part of both of them..... If I could have had one wish, it would have been that I was their natural born daughter too!  But I wasn't.  So, I would often let those thoughts go and I knew that no matter what, we had this incredibly special bond which was so strong and full of love.  This bond taught me so much over the course of my life.

What I have found out 4 and a half decades later (and even before this) is that I am so much a part of both of them, in different ways, outside of physical genes, that it is not even funny.  One of my dearest friends told me "You are your mother's daughter."  I consider that to be one of the highest of compliments.  I see a lot of my mom's compassionate, caring heart in my brother too and both of their enthusiastic, positive attitudes as well.

Just 2 nights ago I was passionately discussing and processing something I was concerned about with my husband, Michael.  He was listening intently and then he stopped and just stared at me and said, "You looked at this moment just like your mother and you sounded just like her too."  

And this type of thing happens with some (not all) families who have adoption as their story.  My brother and I are two of the blessed ones.  Not all stories turn out well.  Not all adoption stories have a happy ending.  Ours did.  Our lives were  forever changed for the better and I am constantly thankful for the blessings of the parents God brought into my life when I was a 7 week old infant.  My brother is just as thankful in regards to his adoption.

This poem must have been really special to my mother.  Why?  Well, she had typed it up on ivory stationery, not just once but twice.  Maybe more than twice.  I don't know.  

It was such a special good-bye gift....

The final weeks before Mom and Dad's condo was closing in the fall of 2012, I was cleaning out the last things in my mom's dresser.  It is a beautiful dresser, long with 12 drawers and a huge mirror over it to match.  She had that dresser as part of hers and Dad's bedroom suite for over 50 years.  It has ALWAYS been the dresser my mother had since I can remember.  I used to love her showing me her treasures in those dresser drawers.

Inside one of the drawers I found an Ivey's department store bag.  I opened it and inside were various sentimental things my mother had kept....

 .....my graduation program from Charlotte Catholic in 1985

.....the church bulletin from Myers Park UMC for graduation Sunday 1985

.....a Valentine I had given her in 1972

.....a mother's day card I had given to her which was really like an apology card 

.....little cut out photos of she and Dad

.....photos of my brother and I

.....an article from the Charlotte Observer about 2 adoptive parents and their son thanking them for being his parents

.....an Anniversary card from Dad

....and a card from my brother to both Mom and Dad.

Then there was this little ivory envelope.

I opened it up.

And there was the adoption poem.  I had not seen this poem in years!

I was sitting on the floor in my Mom and Dad's bedroom at the condo, surrounded by all of these things Mom kept all these years and held this card up to my chest and wept.  

It was the last little message from my mother to me and to my brother as we were saying goodbye to hers and Dad's home which they both loved and could not stay in due to medical struggles.  It was my mom saying to me one more time, "I love you Judith.  You are and always will be my daughter, no matter what."  And these words came to my heart from heaven, because she had died in July and this was September 19.

What a little unexpected gift from God to both my brother and I, that I should find this poem in such a timely way.

Well, just last weekend I had a similar gift....

You hear the saying, "Nothing ever happens the same way twice."  There is truth to that.  

However, my brother was not surprised as much by this as I was.  I was shaking my head in tears of thankfulness and a LOT of wonder this time.  

I found another poem....
....JUST like the one Mom had in her dresser.
It was on the same ivory stationery, same typewriter font, same everything.

She had typed up two of these poems.  (There may have been more.)

I found this one in my Dad's bureau drawer the day we moved his dresser into our house 3 weeks after he died.

My dad had had this poem in the ivory envelope in his top drawer for YEARS.... All tucked away.  It was probably there in our childhood home in Dilworth.  It was there at the condo.  It was there at the Carriage Club in Assisted Living and in Memory Care the last 3 years.  It had been there the whole time.  It was under some other items.

In the envelope with it were photos of my brother and I and an announcement in the Charlotte Observer about his mother and his mother in law making their visit to Hawaii to see he and Mom in 1954.  Mom and Dad were married in Hawaii the prior year and Dad was in the US Navy stationed at Pearl Harbor.

How could this ever be?

Again Lord?  Truly? The same little good-bye gift found in his matching dresser-bureau.  

Tom said, "Well, they did think an awful lot alike."  He is so right about that.

It's possible too that this poem was given to my Grandmother Elizabeth, (Dad's mom), by my mother.  Then she put photos she had been given by my dad and mom in the envelope along with the poem.

Grandmother Elizabeth, Tom and I  (and Dad's dresser in the background), the day I came home to live with my forever family.

It sounds completely like something my mother would have done and Grandmother would have done.   They were both sentimental especially with photos and words.  I just don't know for a fact that this is what happened with the poem.  What makes me also think of this possibility is due to one photo of my grandfather and Tom fishing on a pier at Lake Wylie, and then of course the 1954 newspaper blurb about she and my Mom's mother taking their first trans-Pacific flight to Hawaii.  

Either way, if it was given to Elizabeth from my mother or not, this poem with pictures had probably been in my dad's dresser a very long time, possibly since his Mom's passing which would have been 1974.  I know my dad loved this poem too.

So this little reminder of love is doubly appreciated and felt.  How both poems wound up in both of their dressers floors me....yet it doesn't.  God loves to surprise us with details about our loved ones.  I'm so glad I decided to look through Daddy's drawer this particular day.  

I open the drawer and it still smells like it always has since I was a little girl.  The dresser represents part of him, just like my mother's did.  Right now her grandson is using her dresser as his very own and taking very good care of it.   One day I will be able to let go of Daddy's bureau, but not just yet and I've told my brother it is just as he left it at the Carriage Club.  Anytime he wants to come over and remember a part of Dad, the bureau is here.  

Until then, I feel blessed....so very blessed once again for these fingerprints of love.

New Life

Everywhere I look lately are the signs of new life.....
....spring arrives officially in four days.

Flowers are appearing everywhere.  Many are my favorites.

Trees are awakening with buds and the most intricate blooms which just take my breath away when I look through the camera lens.

How could anything so tiny and full of detail be so delicate, graceful, and complex?

.....only the Lord could create such beauty.

"Don't forget about new life....." are words I hear.  I'm thinking about those words a lot lately.   There is new life all around me, but there is new life to come too in heaven.

My daddy has pneumonia.  It is a hard time for him right now, because Alzheimer's is a huge road block to his healing.  Yes, I'm thinking a lot about new life this week.  Sometimes I wonder if I should look at his disease a different way these days.  Instead of Alzheimer's winning as it continues to steal him away, maybe I should have a different perspective.... "heaven is winning...." and in the end whenever that may be, Daddy is walking closer to heaven every day.  He IS winning in the eyes of eternity because God is renewing the imperishable every day as the perishable continues to fade before him.  We are all walking toward eternal life either with or without our Lord.   Life continues day by day for us until we breathe our last breath here and step over the threshold from this life we know to the  next.  My daddy will be greeted on the other side of the horizon with "Welcome!"  I can just hear it now, "You're here!!!  I'm so happy!  Well done my good and faithful servant."

This hope does not take away my sadness watching my dad suffer from his illness and now added illness on top of what he daily battles.  It does not make his journey of Alzheimer's any easier or stop the continual losing of his mind.  It doesn't take his pneumonia or many other health challenges away,  but it HELPS me COPE better with life's situations that are not easy and COMPLETELY out of my control.

New life....

So thankful for new life all around me.....

If the Lord God cares so much about what He created in nature all around us, why would he not care even more for us?

The answer is.....
....He does.

Jesus told us not to worry.
"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?..... "Matthew 6:26

He loves us more than the birds, budding trees, and blooming flowers in all of their splendor.   He gave up His very life for us so we could have that new life He promises for all eternity.   John 3:16  just means even more when I look through my camera lens at my Bradford pear blossoms and the trees blooming in the special places I love and appreciate close to my home and my heart.

I remember the hope we have in Christ.
Easter is coming!
May Easter's hope bring a renewed joy to our lives!

Mom's Orchid

I'm not sure what it is about flowers and our family, but it has happened again....

Comfort during a time of grief.... and yes it is another flower bringing comfort.  

This time it is comfort for my brother Tom and my mom's older sister Willie Mae....

It is not a sunflower this time either, which comforted me recently and is my favorite flower.

It is one of my mother's favorite flowers.... an orchid.

Mom and Dad in Hawaii in 1992

Mom's love of orchids came from newly wed years in Hawaii in the mid 1950's with Dad while he was in the Navy.

On my Mom's last birthday (her 82nd) her big sister gave her a beautiful white orchid.

Mom and Willie Mae on Mom's last birthday

We have all given Mom orchids over the years.  Jenny, Barbara, Willie Mae, Dad, myself.... They did better at the condo when Mom and Dad were living there. Mom did well keeping them pretty.  At the nursing home,  they were gorgeous for a time, but after they bloomed out, we always had trouble getting them to stay alive or to bloom again if the leaves remained.  There was something about her room there that was problematic.

The day Mom died, Tom took the last orchid Mom had left in her room home with him.  The stalk where the flowers had bloomed was all dried up and dead.  He put it in a window at his apartment and watered it during the summer and fall.  He's never had a green thumb he says with orchids.  Many other plants he's had tremendous success with.  The orchid however, has always been a botanical challenge.  He really didn't expect anything to happen with it.  There were still 3 green leaves left to the plant, but he really didn't think it would bloom again.  However, he had nothing to lose by putting it in the well lighted window either.

What we didn't realize until just about a week ago, was which orchid this one was.  By looking back at photos Tom and I realized that this one he took home that day was Mom's birthday orchid from Willie Mae!

Tom showed me his photo of the orchid in January.  It was the most precious sight!  I was so touched.  He was too.  What a neat surprise gift!  Thank you once again God for these little gifts which mean so much.  It has been a big comfort to my brother during this time.   It is like part of Mom is right there and her love is inside those little buds and blooms.  Hope is there.  Hope of new life.  Anticipation of beauty in those blooms to come.

I want to share these photos my brother took with you, so you can see how this all evolved.  It truly is a beautiful sight!

Willie Mae, these photos are for you.   We love you so much!  I know you will be as thrilled as we are!! Tom is enjoying your birthday gift you gave Mom.  Would Mom have wanted it any other way?  I don't think so...

December leaves 

and January buds

First bloom

My favorite.... Four blooms with our February snow in the background.

Tom says there are 5 blooms open today.

I'm going to go see it soon.

So thankful for these comforts when you miss someone so much.  Every time a bloom opens it's blessed reassurance.  It is Mom saying, "Hi Darlin', I love you!  I'm still here, I'm just in a different place!  I'm alive, you will see me again. I can't wait to see you too!   Just look to heaven and Christ, who made this beautiful orchid and there I am.  I promise we'll be together again one day.  Keep living your life with joy!  

God does care about our suffering and losses and He most definitely gives us a hope for a future- one which is alive, well, and beautiful in Him.

The Silver Lining Part 2 ~ People who share your love and appreciation of your loved one

What is the silver lining in this heart breaking disease of Alzheimer's?

I first wrote about LOVE being the main silver lining I see in our family's journey with my dad.

Tonight another one came to my mind.  I want to try to start writing down some of these "silver linings" I find along the journey.  When I look back I can see those things for which I'm grateful and be reminded of those things when we are having bad days.

Tonight the silver lining has to do with other people.

People who love your loved one also.

People who appreciate, admire, and have a history with your loved one.

I received a phone call tonight out of the blue on my dad's cellphone.  Months ago he stopped being able to understand how to make calls on his phone, answer calls on his phone and really just would see the phone and not understand what it was.  This was a bit hard to swallow over a period of a month or two.  One thing my dad and I were able to do for the past 3 years since he moved to the retirement community was talk on the phone every single day sometimes many times a day.  He'd call me or my brother about different things at all hours of the day or night.  He needed advice.  He needed something from the store.  He'd call to ask a question about something he was confused about.  He'd share about how bad his memory was and how anxious he was about his life living with this disease.  So many things.... And he'd still call to tell me he loved me.  He always ended his calls with "Thank you honey."  Always so grateful for me talking to him.  At one point my brother and I became the "calming voice in the storm of memory loss".  He depended on us so much during those moments when he lived in assisted living. The phone was truly our life line for those years.

When the phone stopped ringing completely I knew the step down was permanent.  He would never be calling me on his own again.  So I brought the phone to my house for safe keeping.  I was planning on canceling the number and the phone line.... I just have never had the heart to do it yet.

After tonight I'm glad I hadn't.

Someone called his phone tonight.  It was an old friend of his from the NC mountains.  Someone he'd worked with on projects with his company for at least 12 years.  They had formed a friendship in working together and that friendship continued over a 20 year period.

What was so interesting about this call was how this gentleman called in the first place.  He had found an old address book.  He hadn't seen it in a long while.  He started looking through it.  He then thought of Dad, he explained.  He looked under the letter of Dad's last name and found his number.  He had no idea if the number was the right one anymore, but thought he'd try it.  He had lost touch with Dad for the past 5 years.

That would have been the last summer Mom and Dad went to the mountains to house sit for friends during the summer months.  It was the last time they spent any significant time in that area of the NC mountains.

So it was a surprise when I answered the phone yet the man did not even 100% expect Dad to answer.

We had the nicest conversation.

He told me over about 45 minutes the story of a friendship that had spanned 20 years.  He told me about what he did as a profession and how Dad was involved with the projects that he was in charge of with driver safety training.  Dad would bring the DuPont employees who drove the company cars up to Appalachian State University for an intense driver's safety and training program.  Dad did this for about 12 years.  Employee safety was one thing he was in charge of in the textile fibers department of the Charlotte DuPont office, among many other things.

I also learned my dad and this gentleman were connected by prostate cancer.  His cancer being much worse and his treatments much more intense than Dad's.  They even shared one of the same doctors. I can only imagine what a comfort they were to each other during times of cancer treatments.

I learned how they went out to lunch and what their favorite restaurant was, how Mom and Dad and he and his wife would spend time together when they were in the mountains during some summers.  He shared that he and his wife have been married almost as long as Dad and Mom were.... close to 60 years.

He thought the world of my dad and told me so and why.  He counted him as a very good friend and he said Mom was a true lady and incredibly sweet.

I did have to impart our sad news of Mom's death and Dad's Alzheimer's illness.  I updated him on things and he was so appreciative.  I promised to send him a card in the mail with photos of Dad and the family.  I felt like I'd made a new friend by the end of the conversation.

To have a glimpse of this history, this friendship between this man and my dad was such a comfort to me!  Knowing people remember the dad you have always known and loved is so important when you walk this journey of Alzheimer's.  It always slips out of my mouth to the staff in Memory Care at one time or another how I wished they knew Dad even just 5 years ago.

Knowing other people love your parent too, is more of a comfort than I ever realized.

I do not think I'm going to cancel my dad's phone.... not yet.  Who knows if I'll get another call like this one.  The number is the one my parents have had for over 40 years.  We kept this number for dad so he could remember his telephone number for as long as possible and so his friends would still be able to contact him.

So my silver lining of today is just that.  Hearing the words of a gentleman who has never met me and yet we share something so special in common.....  Dad.

His Mercies Are New Every Morning

The view through my palladium window this morning.  That blue sky and white clouds filtering through bare winter branches.  

I am reminded that it's a new day!  

Thank you for another day Lord!

Today is yours.
What would you have me do today Lord?
I'm listening.

Lamentations 3:21- 23 is one of my favorite verses from Scripture.

"Yet this I call to mind  and therefore I have hope.  Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,  for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning;  great is your faithfulness."  NIV

Why does it bring me hope to know that the Lord's compassions are unfailing?  
Why does it matter to my life that every single morning I wake up His mercies are new?
It makes all of the difference.  I know each day I can start over.  I can turn from ways that are not pleasing to Him, ask for forgiveness and I can choose to follow where He leads.

Today is a fresh slate!  Full of possibilities and opportunities!

The Lord is there for me.  He is just waiting for me to choose Him each day.  To choose to follow Him and be in tune to Him instead of my selfish ways.  He is there with strength, mercy, compassion and faithfulness.

He is faithful to his promises. 
He promises that his love for us is GREAT and because of that love we are not consumed by whatever trials may come our way.  I can count on that.  I know sometimes trials can seem to overwhelm us.  This is when I need to remember Lamentations 3:21-23.

This morning blue sky speckled with the first clouds of February speaks volumes to me.  

It says, "Good morning, my child.  Let's walk through this day hand in hand together."

The Silver Lining

"Where is the silver lining in this destructive disease of Alzheimer's?"

Christmas Day 2012

I have been asking myself this question every single day for the past month.  I have also been writing this post for a month.  Every time I start to press the "post" button something changes in my Dad's illness and I have to start all over again.

Why am I asking this question this past month?  Why have I been asking myself this question for the past 3 years?  I ask it because the journey of the "long goodbye" becomes tougher as time passes.  Step downs you mourned so much a year ago are of the past.  Things you were so grateful to have with your loved one a year ago are now the losses of today.  It is an incredible journey my brother and I are walking with our hero. Amazingly painful.  Amazingly bittersweet. Incredibly special too.  It's sorrow and love, laughter and tears all mixed up into one.  We are the by standers at times watching, unable to stop the losses dementia brings.  Our family and friends are the prayer warriors as well, praying for Dad through it all.  We are the cheerleaders.  We are the optimists and the realists.

We are family.  

I've realized just in the past two weeks that Tom, my brother and I are truly double grieving at this point.  We mourn the loss of Mom.  Seven months only seems like yesterday.  Now we mourn Dad more than ever.  One parent is alive.  One parent has passed on.  I've learned so much about grief the past 7 months.  I've been doing a lot of listening and reading.  When I feel like I'm losing my mind at times or am just not connecting to people, or find myself annoyed, exhausted or full of tears again,  I realize this is totally normal.  This is my journey of grief.  It is a season.  Sometimes for me the past three years seem like ten.  The Holy Spirit comforts me when no one else can.  The prayers of my dearest family and friends comfort me.  The realness of my brother's and my relationship and his ability to understand my feelings is such a comfort to me as well.  We are finishing each others thoughts lately.  I am so grateful for my big brother!!  I don't know where I'd be in this process without him by my side.

My husband, Mike is there for me.  He does not fully understand how this all feels with losing parents, but he tries so hard to understand and he is the best listener on the planet.  He loves Dad.  He loved my mother so very much too.

This journey of loss has its incredibly lonely moments.  Just when I feel alone, God provides.  Someone calls me.  Tom texts me.  I receive a card in the mail, a sweet email or note on my facebook page, a hug or kiss from my husband, or an "I love you" from one of my sons and I realize I am not alone, no matter how lonely I may feel.  What I am noticing though as time goes by and this drags out is that less and less people truly know what to say to you.  What can you say?  Sometimes there are no words.  I don't even have them.

Our new step down with Dad:

The plateau from  January of last year has ended for now.  The step down currently is quite noticeable to us.  To me it is huge, compared to other step downs he's had.  It's hard to compare the severity of this one to others he's had, but we are now at the point where we never wanted to be.  My daddy is starting to forget me, as his daughter as the "new normal".  He knows I'm family.  He knows he loves me.  He recognizes Tom every visit and says his name and "son".  I am SO incredibly thankful for this.  If Dad were to forget both of us at the same time, it would be more than I could bear.  My brother said the most thoughtful thing to me the other night in a text.  He knows how much it hurts to have Dad begin to forget who I am.  He knows how he would feel.  Big brother hurts for his little sister.  He told me, "I am not ready to accept Dad cannot remember you."  Just hearing those words were so special to me.  I am trying to be realistic.  I am trying to accept this.  Yet deep down I know I will always love those moments when Dad says, "Judith" or Dad says, "That's my daughter."  One day I may still hear those words.  Right now the words ebb and flow.

This entire step down started with a respiratory virus which caused most of this change in his ability to function day to day (the loss of his ability to walk, feed himself, stand up on his own etc.)  He was doing all of those things one day and then 24 hours later they stopped.  It was the most bizarre thing.  Dad is bouncing back physically with standing alone, doing a little walking and feeding himself again.  It has taken a month to even get to where he is now.  His legs are still not strong enough to walk with his walker 100% of the time.  I'm praying we get there.  The part I do not see bouncing back completely is his cognition level.  We are still in "wait and see" mode.  However, when I told the director of Memory Care that my dad was not the same as he was at Christmas she replied so gracefully and compassionately as she could, "No, he's not."

There is a factor I am convinced of with all my heart that is speeding up this decline in Dad.
Simply put, it is grief.  My dad misses his bride so much but I don't think he can express it well due to his illness.  His grief and feelings of loss are coming out in other ways.

The reason I'm so convinced of this is that after talking with one of the nurse's aids one day a month ago, I told her I thought Dad missed my mother.  She told me it was interesting I said that, because earlier on the day Dad bumped his head and all of this decline started,  he was walking around the living room area on his floor asking where Mom was.  He was looking for her!  I was SO appreciative she shared this with me.  If Dad was looking for Mom in the morning, was he looking for her in the middle of the night too when he bumped his head?  What was he thinking?
We have hardly heard him mention her in the past 6 months.  The staff has not either, but a few occasions.  We know he has not forgotten her though and we never thought he would.  It was just the question of "when" would she come to mind?  How would he react to those thoughts?
59 years of marriage to the love of his life.... you cannot deny the love that is there.

My big question remains, " What does grief look like to a husband with dementia who has lost his bride?"

I have been researching this and there is not a lot written out there about it.  I know it has to be a huge question for family members who are helping a grieving parent through Alzheimer's.  How do you help someone in this mental state?  What I've learned from reading about this subject is that we are doing all of the right things so far.  We do not mention Mom.  We do not put Dad through that impact of hearing of her death like it is the first time, over and over again.  If he ever asks me one day where she is, I have an answer.  I will tell him she is resting.  It is something she used to always do.  She loved her naps!  To me it is not a lie either.  It is truth.  She is resting in the Lord's presence daily.  I cannot think of a better way of describing where she is to Dad.

One staff member told me that the holidays are often more difficult for residents with dementia who have lost their spouse.  This change in Dad has all happened around the holidays too.  I just have to wonder if something didn't spark his memory and grief took hold of him for a time.  My brother wonders if Dad has given up a bit, because Mom is no longer there.  She was a BIG, bright, shining light in Dad's every day life.  She made everything better.  There was no one on this earth he loved more than Mom.  There is no substitute for her love.  He does not have it physically with him day to day in battling this confusing disease of dementia.

2009

There are no guarantees that he will bounce back to where he was before on Christmas Day.  We are still in "let's be patient, heal, and regain strength mode".  Being patient and waiting is difficult at times. It has been a bit of a roller coaster ride for Tom and I, with this back and forth of hope and discouragement.  Just when we think he had turned a corner,  we take another 2 steps back to where we were before.  There is a lot of inconsistency these days in what he is able to do day to day.  However the walking is slowly coming back.

We have a physical therapist, Beth, in our corner who loves Dad.  She has seen him from day 1 at the retirement community and has seen the entire  3 year decline.   She remembers when he had no walker.  She remembers when he originally moved into Assisted Living and would walk over to see Mom every single day in the Healthcare building.  She remembers the water therapy in the retirement community pool and how he wowed her with his free style one day.  What a comfort to have someone who knows Dad like this, in our corner!  I cannot tell you what a comfort this consistency in relationship is.  She remembers his joking and fun personality.  When I talked with her on the phone about his step downs and inability to walk even 2 weeks ago, she got choked up and told me she did not like seeing Dad the way he was.  She is going to do everything she possibly can to get him stronger and walking again as the norm.  He remains in the wheel chair for the most part, but those legs will hopefully regain their strength.

Dad has so many routing for him.  The staff is wonderful.  They are all so positive.  They all tell us he is getting back to what he was before.  Tom and I still see step downs, but we are family and we are intuitive about things they may not be.  They see him every day though, for several hours a day and they know his abilities well.
I'm just thankful he has such a wonderful team of people around him.  He is not alone in Memory Care.  There are people around him all the time.  Other residents and loving staff.

I do know one thing, my Dad would never want to be in the state he is now with Alzheimer's.  
The man who always wanted to stay young!  The man who always is so full of life, loves life and has such an appreciation for the life God has given him!  Never in a million years would he want to be in a wheelchair, not remembering his family's names and needing such assistance to function day to day.  His current state is so "not him" and I think this is one reason it is so hard to watch these step downs.

How many times has Dad told me in the past two years when seeing residents in my mother's building who were wheel chair bound not able to function well,  "Honey, if I ever get like that please make me as comfortable as possible."  Those words are so loud and clear in my head these days.  "Daddy, you know Tom and I will not let you down.  Anything you need Daddy, we will do whatever we can to provide it for you."  Last week we swapped out his and Mom's bed of 50+ years for a hospital bed so he could be more comfortable.  He has not noticed the difference in his bed.

"Can't we get pillows for some of these folks?  They look so uncomfortable!" he'd ask me, when looking at some of the wheelchair bound residents in Mom's building.   If there had been a box of pillows I think he would have gone around to every resident who he thought was uncomfortable and put a pillow under their head.  He called me on the phone one time asking me to ask the nurses if they could do something about this issue of making residents comfortable.  He was incredibly serious.  He wanted to help, but even with his dementia then, he didn't know how he could help.

Compassion.  My dad has always been FULL of compassion.

So the past month, I'm looking at my dad and I'm wondering.....

Where is the silver lining in this decline since Christmas?
Where?

I have to know.... I've been asking the Lord to show me what in the world can I be thankful for?  I have to be thankful for something.  I think my heart would completely break if there was nothing to be thankful for.

A few weeks ago,  I received an answer to that question and prayer.  After my dad had had 2 different trips to the ER back to back for tests to check out that bumped head and dementia changes, when Tom and I were so concerned about him, had so many unanswered questions, and the changes were happening so fast and furious....

...I clearly realized the silver lining in all of this is love.  

But how can this be?  Where is love in this horrible disease?  Does God love my Dad?  Where is God in all of this anyway?  Why God why?  Why my dad?

Oh, I've been there so many times...  I've asked myself all of these questions along the past 3 year journey.  God has answered many of my questions and whispered many things in my heart to comfort me.   He has given me signs of hope, signs of comfort that YES, He DOES LOVE my Daddy with an everlasting LOVE!  No, He did not cause this disease to take place in my dad's life.  It hurts Him too, because He never intended for diseases such as Alzheimer's to be in the original world He created. The precious part of this is that the Lord already knows how Dad's story will end.  He knows the place which awaits Dad in heaven.  He is the one who prepared it for him long ago!  There is hope for the future beyond this present earth!  I am hanging onto that hope with every bit of strength I have.  When I look at Dad, I know he is heaven bound I don't have to fear that he is gone forever.  We will see each other again, just not here on this present earth as it is, but there will come a day when we will see each other and we will know one another as always.  I know Dad wants to be with Mom again.  He will be reunited with her too!  This is a great comfort to me, this hope of heaven that Jesus has promised us!  The further Dad walks on this journey of Alzheimer's, the closer he gets to heaven.  Sadly, he is just losing himself and all of his memories along the way.  This is where our grief comes in so intensely.

Let me give you a physical example of the silver lining of love in our lives....

Three weeks ago, when Dad was at his worst,  I asked him if he knew who I was.  He said with a smile, "No".  I told him I was his little girl and he had a bigger smile.  Then I told him my name and I was his daughter.  Then it clicked and the light went on.  He knew who I was after that.  He was laying there in his bed resting.  He could not sit up by himself.  He had a small temperature due to the respiratory virus he was fighting.  He was tired.  I wanted him to rest.  I got him some grape juice and he drank the entire contents of the glass.  He felt so much better after that.  I talked to him some.  He wondered what to do with his arm that didn't seem comfortable.  I grabbed his hand and kissed it and said it would be ok if he laid it back down on his chest.

He tried to talk to me and was smiling the entire time he was communicating, looking into my eyes.  I was trying to make sense of what he was saying, but could not.  I just had to smile back.  When I told him I loved him, he said, "Thank you."

I had to go pick up my older son from a friend's house a bit later and had to go.  I didn't want to leave him there awake in his room with no one to be there with him.  Mom is gone.  No one was there to give him the TLC he has been used to for so long.  He couldn't do anything for himself in that bed but blow his nose and fiddle with the kleenex in his hand.  (His hands are shaking with tremors so much now a days.)  I told Dad I had to leave to get the boys.  He understood what I was saying.  "Ok", he said.  I told him I'd be back later.  "All right", he agreed.  I waved goodbye to him and he actually waved back and smiled at me.  Then, I had to close the door.  Ouch.  That hurt to do that.  I wanted to stay with him and yet my life was once again calling me away.  The comfort and regret I felt in those moments stemmed from the fact that I know my dad loves me.

Where is the silver lining? I had to ask myself after his door closed, while I walked to the elevator, while I rode it down, then walking to my car...

So many tears that week.  So many tears.

In the car, on that day, the Lord told me, the silver lining was LOVE.

When all else is fleeting, the flesh is failing, and our loved one is slipping away from us before our very eyes,  love remains.  God's love remains and our love for each other remains.  

Three Sundays ago, when my brother Tom and I went to visit him, we walked into his room.  He was laying down in the bed resting.  He saw Tom first.  There was no "Hi Tom!"  He saw me next.  There was no salutation, "Hi Judith!"

Do you know how our Dad greeted us with a big smile on his face?

"I love you, son!  I love you, honey!"

Do you see the silver lining?
  
I see my dad's love, but I see something else too.  When my Dad tells me he loves me, it is like God is telling me as His child, that He loves me too in this difficult journey.  I didn't forget you, Judith!  I didn't forget you, Tom!  I didn't forget you most of all, Joe.  Oh to have a heavenly Father all my life who loves me!   Oh to have that heavenly example in an earthly father!  

My daddy still expresses his love for us each time we're together.

"I love you, little man", he told Philip on this day.  He remembered his nickname for Philip even if he didn't remember Philip's actual name.

This is such a gift!  There is no greater gift Dad could give us than his love.  Of all of the things that this disease could strip from my Dad, it has not stripped what goes deepest apparently, which is his love of his family.  We are God's family too.  God doesn't want us to forget he loves us as His family.

And I can STILL show my Dad LOVE.  I can still love him even when one day he may physically not be able to hug me, or tell me he loves me.   Selfishly I'm praying that day NEVER comes.  He is already forgetting our names and specifically who we are at times.

We KNOW he loves us and always has from day one.  I hang on to that.

The silver lining in my Daddy's Alzheimer's illness..... is LOVE.

Thank you Lord for that love.... keep us strong.  Even if I have to cry sometimes and my heart just plain hurts from grieving his condition.  Thank you, Lord, for LOVE.  Your love and Your love which flows through us.  Lord, please have mercy on my dad.

I'm still hanging on to the hope he will walk again on a regular basis.  Please continue to keep him and us in your prayers.  There are strong indications he will bounce back.  I AM NOT GIVING UP HOPE YET!

I'm trying to look beyond the wheelchair, the lift and the hospital bed, yet all of those things are to make him as comfortable as possible.  We will do whatever he needs.

The silver lining keeps me going.  I hang onto the silver lining of God's love with all of my might.  I hang on to my dad's precious "I love yous" too because they are such a comfort.  My brother's arm may be black and blue from me holding on to it through the journey, but what a blessing to not have to walk this alone!