Free at last

Yesterday, my kids and I made our final visit to room 1312 on the hospice unit where my father-in-law resided for his final days.  My youngest SIL (I'll call her "D") and her family were already there keeping vigil at the bedside.  My FIL had complained of pain in his left arm and was given morphine earlier in the day, and had been unresponsive ever since.  The nurse had explained that he was already showing signs of dying: his ears had relaxed (I'd never heard of that, but I guess it makes sense), his hands were growing cold, his heart rate was slowing down, etc. A glance in my FIL's direction let me know he wasn't "long for this world" as the old folks say.  D was dabbing at her eyes while her two young daughters sat on the other bed in the room quietly reading and drawing on paper.  What to say at a time like this?  I spoke gently to my FIL, letting him know we were present and that we loved him.  I imagined how dry his mouth must be since he was breathing with his mouth open and his lips appeared to be stuck to his teeth giving the appearance that he was bearing his teeth.  I wet a sponge-tipped swab with tap water and applied a little "mouth moisturizer" to it before gently rubbing it along his lips.  FIL responded to that since his lips were no longer stuck.  He puckered up a bit and tried to suck the moisture from the sponge.  Funny how that survival instinct just kicks in. His eyes opened briefly but were quite groggy and unfocused from the medication.  I know it was very difficult for my kids to see their grandfather like this, but I'm glad they were with me.
I read Psalm 27 to my FIL and almost couldn't finish between the tears distorting my vision and the fact that I didn't have my glasses with me.  I held his balled up hand, rubbed his emaciated shoulder and kissed his cool cheek for what I figured would be the last time.
My plan was to take the kids to my mom's  house so they could attend mass with her and then tell my husband about the latest development and return to the hospital with him after he made it in from work.  The hubs chose to avoid the hospital and remember his dad from our visit the day before when he was at least a little responsive, so we didn't return to the hospital.  My SIL "P" called just after 10 p.m. to let us know that Famous Granddad had quietly slipped away surrounded by a miniature lit Christmas tree, quiet music and several family members. All choked up but trying to keep my voice steady, I relayed the information to my husband who simply acknowledged my words, finished watching whatever game he was watching on TV and went to bed.  Thankfully, I didn't have to make all of the calls.  I don't think I could have if I wanted to.  I'm okay as long as I don't have to say it out loud.  I called my sister and my mom and let them know, swallowing around a lump that felt like a walnut wedged in my throat.  Then my kids and I prayed the Rosary before turning in for the night.  I know the Bible tells us not to mourn like those who have no hope when we lose a loved one, but hot tears are still stinging my eyes now that everyone has gone to bed and my house is quiet .   I'll close with the words to a song a lady from my church used to sing so beautifully.  The words are fitting for the occasion.  I'm guessing the title is "I'm Free" but I do not know to whom to credit the lyrics:

I'm free, praise the Lord I'm free!
I'm no longer bound;
There are no more chains holding me;
My soul is resting
And it's a blessing
Praise the Lord, Hallelujah
I'm free!

Good night and thank you for your continued prayers.  Until next time...

Tragedy strikes again

Dearest Blog family, please keep my family uplifted in prayer.  One week ago my brother in law called to tell me that our niece (my husband's sister's daughter) who is a truck driver was missing. I received news from my brother in law this afternoon that her body was found.  She suffered a blow to the head which fractured her skull and was badly burned, but a positive identification was made with DNA and finger prints as no dental records were available. Specifics are sketchy at best, but the suspect believed to have committed this crime is in police custody.  I don't know what to say to my poor sister in law.  It just isn't the natural order of things for the elders of a family to bury their young.  Here, we've experienced just that very thing for two weeks in a row. 
I am okay, but my husband's grief is so very nonexpressive that I wonder where he stores all of his tears and sadness...surely he feels these things, too.  One of the hardest things for me is watching my children try to understand the cruelties to which life sometimes falls prey.  They are still reeling from the unexpected death of a classmate who was buried just last week.  This is very tough for them.  They were not really close to their cousin because there is a considerable age difference, but family is family, and when one member hurts or suffers, we all do to some degree.  I only hope that my faith is sufficient to get us through the next couple of weeks.  Until next time...

In an instant

My heart is heavy this morning as I mourn the loss of someone I didn't even know.  Let me explain.  My son played in a marching band festival on Saturday.  I did not attend for several reasons: (1) it was an all-day ordeal; (2) Mike was working a double shift which meant; (3) Alisa would be left alone or "pawned off" to another family member all of whom were busy.  I decided Alisa and I would hang out while I entrusted Aaron's care to the band directors and other parent chaperones in the Band Booster Club.  Aaron returned that night and casually mentioned that a band member had been hit by a car after Friday's game and killed and some of the other students were crying.  He didn't know the name of the student or any further details.  I asked if the band director mentioned it to the students.  He simply said, "No."
Fast forward to this morning. When I dropped my daughter off at her school there were crepe paper ribbons tied around the trees in front of the school.  As I drove slowly down the street, I noticed one tree had an "In Loving Memory" poster affixed to the trunk and cellophane-wrapped bouquets of flowers encircling its base.  Traffic was not heavy, but people were still dropping off students so I couldn't really stop and see what had happened.  I went back home, changed out of my flannel pants and into walking shorts and my shape-ups, grabbed a water bottle and set out again.  On my way I noticed someone had put red Solo cups in the chain link fence to spell out "R.I.P. KELSEE."  Two young ladies by that name came to mind.  The walk around the block seemed to take an eternity.  I neared the crepe paper-clad trees and read the full name with the date 10.15.10 beneath the torn and weathered photocopy picture of the 8th grade student.  The student whose face I recognized as she has gone to school with my kids since kindergarten: a year older than my daughter, a year younger than my son.  The same face I'd seen with pigtails on the playground across from the elementary school years before.  The same face I'd seen adorned with sparkly make up as she danced with her girlfriends at the talent show.  The same face I'd just seen at the football game a couple weeks ago...I saw the vice principal comforting a student in front of the office.  I saw teachers in small groups crossing from the cafeteria back into the main building.  What had happened?  Was Kelsee the same student who'd been struck by the car Friday night?
As I turned the corner continuing on my walk back home, the choir teacher with an entourage of male students dressed in black t-shirts were loading boxes into her car.  I'm guessing these were Kelsee's things that would have to be delivered to her family.
Hot tears began to glide down my cheeks as I mourned the loss of the same face a mother would no longer kiss good morning or good night.  Did I kiss my girl this morning?  Yes I did and she has warm brown sugars that rival everything Bath and Body Works has to offer!
I called my mom on my way home to see if she had heard anything about an accident involving this student.  She'd look it up on the internet and let me know.  I asked the assistant band director when I went back to drop off Alisa's instrument.  I was only getting bits and pieces: she was not hit by a car but thrown from a car and suffered a head injury.  My mom called back.  Yes, she remembered the newscast: 16-year-old driver, car full of teenagers (only supposed to have one other teen in the car), returning from a game Friday night; dark road; no one wearing seatbelts; Kelsee the only casulaty.  How does a mother make arrangements to bury her child before she's shopped for prom dresses and made arrangements for college?  How does a mother give herself permission to let go of the child to whom she never gave permission to date? How do you say good-bye to a child who has barely said Hello to the world?  As a mother my heart aches for Kelsee's mother. I can't even imagine.
We live in a world where we have so much at our disposal in an instant.  We speak a name into our cell phone, and the phone dials and connects us in an instant.  Car-pooling to work? Hop in the HOV lane and bypass the traffic jam to arrive to work in an instant.  We snap a photo with our digital camera or cell phone and see an image in an instant: no waiting around to finish up a roll of film then drop it off for processing which used to take several days.  Days like today also remind us that what we have and who we love today could be gone in an instant.
Please join me in praying for the family of Kelsee R. Williams and remember to cherish the ones your love while you can.  Until next time...