Envelopes.
Names.
Pen.
Sentiments.
Hand written notes.
Flowing with love.
Overflowing with tears.
Thank you.
Dear friends.
Friend’s parents.
University roommates.
Co-workers.
Neighbours.
Sexy Neck taking time.
Even more at Papa’s house.
Blessed in our grief.
Standing not alone.
Cards.
Pouring out love.
(Where’s Joanna hidden in this post? Laughing at myself!)
More about grief if you need it, I sure do!
Note: Click on the blue links to see the whole twenty-five day story…
Twenty-five days ago, I left my home.
My mom was in an ambulance with excruciating pain.
Twenty- five days ago my mom was in the ER, in pain. I never saw my mom read or watch TV again.
Excruciating pain.
In the next seven days, I watched mom be in FIVE different rooms of the hospital. Not one nurse offered to wash her or change her gown. Mom never did get that bath she was looking forward to for six weeks.
I encountered a surgeon who told mom she would die, a doctor who empathized, an anaestesologist who overruled our oncologist who wanted mom to have more pain meds, nurses who laughed and were afraid, nurses who advocated and hid. A social worker who stood strong and stole chairs and a palliative care coordinator who finally helped mom be pain-free.
Mom was continually trying to ‘conquer’ her pain (mom’s words).
I watched mom lovingly hold dad’s hand, I watched her hug my boys. I heard her never complain nor whine about her situation.
Not once. Not ever.
Twenty days ago, Wendy and I had a sleepover with mom. Sleeping in chairs. Mom still in pain. Chasing nurses for meds. Laughing. Crying. Massaging. Comforting.
I watched mom try to put one foot in front of the other. I saw her desperately want a drink of water. I put lip chap on her lips, got her ice and massaged her sore hips.
One moment at a time.
Nineteen days ago, I went by ambulance with my mom to hospice. . Dad and my boys greeted us there. You should have seen mom’s face light up. Finally pain free with a grin on her face.
I savoured watching snowflakes flutter onto her face as she entered this holy place.
I watched my cousins, my uncles, my sister, her family and our wonderful friends arrive to comfort us. And we saw food, wine and more food come through those doors.
All with my dad steadfast at her side and my Sexy Neck a pillar of strength.
I saw my boys playing peek-a-boo outside mom’s window, I saw JC kiss her hand one last time, CC give her a big hug and OC a high five.
Sixteen days ago, I heard mom say hi to me for the last time as I walked into her room in the morning. Room number eight.
Always kind, always thoughtful, always just mom.
Fourteen days ago, I watched the family from my childhood (dad, sister, cousins) eat Christmas dinner together, listen to Christmas carols and drink wine. I heard stories and quite a ruckus being made in room number eight. I watched tears flow, mom’s hand being held and felt her body next to me as I lied with her.
I watched my family grieve, my cousins step up, my boys soak in the love of everyone and my dad continue to walk forward with his love.
I looked at mom’s beautiful skin, incredible blue eyes and felt her warmth and kindness flowing out of her, as it always has.
Thirteen Days ago, mom took her last breath. Dad sitting at her side.
I was awed by love, snow, hugs and fluttering butterflies.
Thirteen days ago we started planning, writing, savouring, cherishing.
Eleven Days ago, we celebrated mom’s life at her favourite beach, held the people who love her and cried tears of love over and over again.
Ten days ago we said goodbye to many departing for home and then it was just us and dad. Staying at mom and dad’s house. Puzzling, talking, organizing, crying, drinking wine, skiing, leaving roses, smelling the flowers, taking down Christmas decorations and talking about stuff.
Today, I return to our home in KCity .
Today, this is how my husband found me as I wrote this blog:
Disclaimer: For my Prayerwalking friends, my lying down is a regular occurrence. For my new grieving self, it is a daily occurrence. Just rowing my boat… in my quiet laundry room.
Don’t worry, I am not alone. God is with me, my friends close, boys sleeping and Sexy Neck woowing me with warm muffins.
Can you leave me a wee comment? It will give me something to read while I lie on the floor.
Yesterday, we skied Woodland Bell. The boys have decided to call it Remembering Nana Trail. It is the trail where we placed a rose last week in memory of mom.
JC got to tryout a new piece of ski equipment yesterday.
JC has been waiting a couple of years, but on Saturday T, his cross country coach and owner of Stussi’s gave JC the go ahead to ski with poles.
We aren’t sure what the poles are for yet, mostly they seem to be brother “pullers”!
Love it.
Proud little man.
Happy little brother.
Who’s that peaking behind OC in the Chariot?
We went to our Vtown library today.
Cancelled mom’s account.
Had a cry with our wonderful, caring library clerks.
Just a normal day in the hood.
Oh ya, we also got some books.
The boys picked up a skateboard book. They disappeared downstairs into Nana and Papa’s great basement.
While downstairs, they discovered this half pipe photo in the library book.
My parents have always had plywood boards with cut outs in them to create and play with. We had them as kids, then we gave them to our local elementary school in PG.
A few years ago, my dad made five more wooden boards for the grand kids to make forts, stores, and theatres with.
Today was a first for the boards in the Jenkins’ family – a half pipe.
I wonder what Nana would say.
I have been overwhelmed with coincidences – butterflies and snow anyone?
I have been blessed with prophetic women.
Now I am blessed with both – prophesy and coincidence. I don’t think I am getting up off the floor anytime soon. Sorry if I don’t respond to emails!
A week ago I asked my A friend from Atown if her daughter would draw a picture for our family. I had heard that this wonderful child has gifts that go beyond understanding. I don’t exactly know what my friend said to her daughter, but this is what she drew:
A told me about the significance of the colours from a prophetic art book. I told her that mom was talking about water when she was in hospice and the fact that a few days ago Sexy Neck had picked up mom’s ashes that were in a box.
Scroll back to the girl’s picture and sit with what I just told you. Woah!
But, of course, that is not the end of the story.
Sexy Neck and I were sitting on the couch talking about mom and life when I received the text with the picture from A. She had read my post about grief being like waves and decided to send it immediately.
After I showed Sexy Neck the text, and responded to A, I looked over at the memory tree from mom’s celebration of life. This Douglas fir had cards where people wrote down memories of mom.
I am not sure who drew this, but take a look:
Woah! Dude!
I want to share some brilliant and inspiring words at this connection between the word beauty and the parallel pictures, but really I am just gobsmacked!
God is connecting the dots for me when I can’t even put one foot in front of the other without help.
Glory to Him.
We spent the morning x-country skiing. I debated on whether to keep our oldest out of school so that we could stay together as a family.
The debate ended when we crested the hill coming around Sovereign towards the Jungle trail and we saw this sight:
I had to lie down in the snow when JC exclaimed, “Nana’s light!”
Thank God for children, skiing, nature and Nana’s light.
Thanks D!
"Be" ENOUGH 