The cancer which has been in Anita's bladder, her breast, her bones is now in her liver. Two weeks ago she had an emergency appendectomy. Her heart works 17 percent of what it should. Her blood pressure is high, has been for years. Her doctors recently told her she had 4 to 6 months to live. She is only 64, eight years older than me. Longevity is in our family and yet . . . .

When I was 5 she made me a dress. There wasn't much money, so my brother, Wes, and sister would hold out a blanket. I climbed into the center, they held it by the corners and bounced me trampoline style. Anita, Wes, the neighbor kids and I all played Annie, Annie Over, over the top of the house, although I was really too little at the time to be of much help. We went swimming in the mucky slough that ran adjacent to the home place. We went camping with our parents. Anita and I shared a bedroom until I was 8. At 16 she married her childhood sweetheart, Dan. They have been married nearly 48 years. She has three children, the youngest disappeared 7 years ago, a source of constant heartache. She has 5 grandchildren and 2 3/4th great grand children. Her family is her life.

I have lived a very different life. I chose not to have children, a decision I do not regret. I ended two marriages because my husbands treated me badly. I finally met a man I loved who loved me. He died suddenly of cancer in 1988. And even though I subsequently found a dear man I love bunches, who now shares my life, it took me a long time to be whole again. Over the years there have been numerous tragedies in my life, tragedies I worked to overcome. These heartaches led me to evaluate the belief system I was raised with and adjust it to what works for me.

My sister made no such changes. She believes very much like she did as a young person. So when I learned of her prognosis, I wondered what I could do to help comfort her through this. I thought of the things that comfort me now. But knowing who she is, I know these things would not comfort her.

So many times when someone is dying people try to convince them that if they just accepted this new way of viewing things, spiritually speaking, they will be better off. To do this to my sister would be unfair. It would not help, and it is unnecessary. And it would certainly not honor her right to choose her own way of viewing the world, God and the afterlife. All I've gained, while for me is just right, would be of no help to her - except for one thing.

One of the ways both she and I work through our troubles is by listening to music. And although I have expanded my choice of music from the country and gospel music our parents raised us with, Anita has not. She loves country singer, Don Williams. I like his music too. She absorbed every album he produced. She'd listen to and sing each song until it drove the rest of her family - Dan and the kids nuts. So I reasoned that she must also like Jim Reeves. Remember Jim Reeves - the velvet voice that went directly into your soul?

I had no cassettes or CD by him. Unfortunately he died in a plane wreck, like all good country-western singers used to do, before cassettes or CDs. So I took out my LP collection, yes, I still have it and retrieve his album called, We Thank Thee. His voice, his words, this LP has soothed me for years.

I put the LP on the turntable and set about making a cassette - eliminating the scratchiness as best I could - the album is probably 40 years old. To fill the tape I had to find other songs. I considered some I love, but knew they would not speak to her soul. I was tempted to put them on the tape anyway - to expose her to it. I thought again. No, this is for Anita, not for me. So I added some Sonny James gospel music. After filling side A, I copied the same music to side B. This took me all day . . . . so I could get it just right. And I realized that for me this is part of what is known as grief work.

Today, in my grief, without knowing it, my sister gave me a gift. She helped me reinforce within myself how important it is to honor the needs of others, to address them in the way that is right for them, not try to change them.

Vi

Vi...I know we've talked via email, but I have to say this is one of the most beautiful testaments of love I've ever read. Although I don't know Anita, I wish I did! I'm sure she has a wonderful spirit to be so worthy of your devotion.

Thank you for sharing this intimate experience and please know that we are all thinking of you and Anita during this time.

We will be here for you.

Much love, JJ

I certainly agree with JawJaw's eloquent message to you Vi.....my heart goes out to you and Anita of course. I'm so glad you and I have begun an "email friendship" and I hope that you know if you need a friend - I'll be here!

Your loving tribute to your special relationship with Anita is a wonderful way to honor her and your expressions of love are beautifully said.

Vi, how touching, selfless, loving, and caring. May God bless you and Anita in the midst of this gracious, couragious act of love. He will use it as He desires. You are an instrument of His peace. I'll always carry this story in my heart.

I will also add you and Anita to my prayer list this morning.

Vi, I have added you and Anita to my prayer list as well. The treasures in your post have touched my heart. God Bless.

Andria

Vi, Sharing with Anita face to face just how much she has meant to you and how she has touched your life through her own - will be the greatest comfort I think you could bring to her now to show her that her life did and does matter, and that she did, what all of us hope at the end of lives we have done,

more than enough.

What a beautiful post. Sisters. Nothing like them. I'm so glad that you are there for her in all your loving ways. My heart breaks for both of you but the love you share is wonderful.

Vi, this is a great lesson: "Today, in my grief, without knowing it, my sister gave me a gift. She helped me reinforce within myself how important it is to honor the needs of others, to address them in the way that is right for them, not try to change them." I'm so sorry to hear about your sister, and the sadness it brings to both of you. The song that comes to my mind is Tim McGraw's "Live Life Like You're Dying" Love and Light, Lynn

Thank you all so very much for your kind words. I appreciate your thoughts,prayers and support. Love is the greatest gift of all. Thanks for yours.

Vi

Dear Vi - what an incredible tribute to your sister! You and she are in my prayers.

Vi -- my heart goes out to you and your sister. What a special relationship you have with her. Thank you for sharing your insight with us -- you, Anita and your loved ones are in my prayers also.

My sister is now going downhill really fast. I pray her passing is quick, easy and painless. Thank you all so much for your support.

We'll all be praying for that AND for you and your entire family Vi.

My heart goes out to you and your family Vi, You are all in my prayers.

Vi, my prayers also for you and Anita. May your sister's spirit always shine through your heart.

My mom, Esta, and I are reading all your beautiful thoughts and words of support - after spending the day with Anita and her family. We are truly blessed by your kindness and your love. God holds you all in His/Her thoughts.

Thank you.

Vi and Esta

Dearest Esta, I am praying for you and Vi to find strength at this most difficult time. I am pleased to know that you have each other. I also pray that Anita is as comfortable as she can possibly be. I will continue to keep all of you in my morning and evening prayers.

God bless.
Andria

Dear Andria,

Thank you so much for your love and prayers.

God bless you,

Esta

Vi -- there is such beauty amidst the heartache of loss expressed here in this thread.

I've lost my mother and dad to cancer and regardless of how much you prepare, it's still a most difficult time.

You are in my prayers ... I pray God gives you supernatural peace during this time and that you will continue to make good memories that can never die.

Blessings, Francine

Dear Vi: It's a blessing to share with family members the way you do.

When all else fails, love remains. Thanks for sharing your experience with us.

I'm sorry for the pain you and your family are going through. I'll add you all to my prayer list. Please remember that God cares for you and yours in this difficult time too. May His love give you strength. He is the Good Shepherd, that will not leave you alone in the darkest valley of sorrow and death.

Vi, I remember so well when my mom was dying of cancer.

Be with her, love her, affirm her, and give her the peace she needs to leave this earth and cross over to where she will live without pain and suffering.

I'm praying for all of you.

If you have time there'a an excellent book,
Final Gifts : Understanding the Special Awareness, Needs, and Communications of the Dying. It's absolutely beautiful and helpful beyond your imagination. I read it when Mom was dying and learned so much.

How sad for you all. I will pray for her and her family and you and yours and hope you can all remember the good times with your sister....I am truly deeply sorry...

Thanks to all of you for your ongoing support. It is refreshing. There was a period of my life when bad things happened and no one was there.

Thanks for the recommendation of the book Dotsie.
I found it at the library. I pick it up on Friday. And I plan to buy a copy.

Now for an update relative to my sister.

The day after I made the tape for Anita, I mailed the package and then went to our small public phone utility to find out what was available locally relative to receiving phone calls while I'm online - for the emergency call from my sister's family that is surely coming. I learned of my options - all poor for full-time writers/artists who have yet to make a living at it. The only viable option was $50 a month for DSL. This is more than our strict budget allows.

While I was talking to Rhonda, the receptionist at the phone company, about Anita, I felt the heaviness oppressing me, like it has been since learning of the prognosis. I had known it was coming, but as you all know and some of you have said, when it actually arrives is something else again. I talked to her about my sister, and she asked about my brother - which I have mentioned in a reply to another posting under the murdered category and the book I'd written about that.

Three fourths of my way through the conversation a local colorful guy, Jose, former rocket scientist and amateur philosopher came in. He and I have had many extensive conversations about life, the meaning of it, reality, etc. He looked at me and told me there was something different about me, that my aura had change. I felt the change. It felt dark, heavy, intense. I told him that my sister is dying - that's what he saw. He said that usually I have a lot of confidence and it all effervesces from me and that that had changed.

On the way home I got to thinking about his comments, and all the losses I've experienced. I began analyzing what I was feeling. I realized that some of what I was feeling was my own grief, but some of it was the grief of my family members. I felt some of what my brother-in-law, Dan, is feeling because of the death of my boy friend of pancreatic cancer in 1988. I felt some of what my sister's kids are feeling because of losing my dad in 1983 when I was 34. Empathy is a biggy for me, but it can be debilitating. The words that kept coming to me were - this is not my heartache. Yes, I have my own impending loss, but.... I began to think what I've learned from my losses - I've considered this upteen times over the years. But here I was again. I began to think that some of what we perceive as bad things will always happen on this level of existence - here on Earth. I made a conscious decision not to be leveled by them every time -easy to say, harder to put into practice. There has to be a better way of dealing with "bad things" personally, and I'm not talking about faith here. This is not a crisis of faith. I'm talking about finding a way to dissolve the heaviness oppressing me.

So like I do sometimes when I'm alone, I talked aloud to God. A lot of my thoughts are really ongoing conversations with God. So I said to God that I choose not to let this kind of thing oppress me anymore. I asked for help with this, of course, and I began to say I am light. It's not just that I wanted God's light to surround me, but rather that I am that light. I thought of the little song we sang in Sunday school - "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." I didn't feel the heaviness lift right away. It's a discipline thing for me - I'm practiced at depressing myself. But the heaviness did ease. There's a mantra that goes with this kind of thing, one that came to me some years ago: I am the light. I am the heart of God. I am the soul of the One. So I said it again and repeatedly.

This was last Friday. On Monday, two days ago, I went down to my mom's and picked her up. She no longer has a driver's license. I took her up to see my sister. It's two hours south to Mom's, three hours north to my sisters, then it's an hour south to my house. Before I left Phil, my husband, said, "Remember you are there to love. You are not there to solve their problems, just to give love." I always want to fix things for everyone, so I have to keep his words in mind.

We arrived at Anita and Dan's. She is obviously so ill - she now has the look of one who is dying. It was the first time I had seen it on her. Apparently she had hardly been off the couch during the day, since she got out of the hospital a week earlier, the last time I saw her. A number of her family members were there. They'd come to visit Mom and me, but mostly I think it was Mom - a grandma thing. I visited with them, in my sister's presence and away from her. It was a good visit.

Yesterday I got an email from my sister's daughter - we haven't emailed before. She said that the visit did her mother a lot of good, that after we were gone her mother got off the couch and began playing computer games with her four-year-old great grandson. My niece said she hoped I came back real soon, that it was the first time there had been life in the house for a week. I told her that my husband, Phil and I, will be back next week the day after her parents' appointment with hospice.

Today, Dan let us know that the doctor gave Anita stronger medication for pain yesterday, and she slept through the night for the first time in a long time.

There are a number of reasons that over the years I have not been around my sister's family much - only occasional family things. But I do love them. During that time I've been healing myself, growing, becoming. My current growth step is to become light full-time.

This brings to mind something one of my spiritual mother's said to me once. Her son was terminally ill when he was a toddler. The doctors had given up. She had heard of a healer. Even though she didn't believe in this kind of thing at the time, she took her son to the healer. She said, "I never saw the man. All I saw was the light." Her son was healed.

I seek to be the light - a light. We all are really, even if we aren't aware of it. We are all part of the heart-light of God.

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine."

Vi, I am so moved by your post. You've touched on so many things that I have struggled with in the past. When I first posted, I'd written something else entirely but decided, for some reason, not to post it. But I did save it and I'm going to paste it here now.

My mom courageously battled throat cancer for a year. She had her voice box removed and went into remission after several lengthy and rather dangerous surgeries but about 2 months after being cured, the cancer came back and it wasn't long before she was pronounced terminal.

We brought her home and between my step-dad, my husband, and my two sisters, we cared for her. There came a time when she was pretty much unconscious because of her pain medication. We continued to talk to her and I constantly read the Psalms to her. I too am someone who wants to fix things but I knew this was beyond me. I also knew that each of our family members was dealing with my mom's impending death in their own ways. But, suddenly, a sense of peace descended on me and I looked at my mother. The pain etched on her face was heartbreaking but God still surrounded me with His peace.

Anyway, several weeks later it was my turn to care for mom during the night -- she required 24/7 care with medication administered every 2 hours. Most of the family would have the TV on and so when I came I'd shut it off and this night I played her most favorite music ... Elvis singing gospel songs. Then I sat down and talked to her, telling her it was okay for her to leave us. Unknowingly, each of my sisters (on the previous two nights) had told her the same thing. You see, she was living much longer than the doctors ever predicted. Anyway, after talking to her for a while, lovingly holding her hand and kissing her cheek, I began reading the Psalms again because I knew she loved to hear them.

We always kept a close eye on her chest -- it was the only way we knew she was alive. We'd had to keep lots of scented candles lit and as I sat alone, I noticed several candles flickering ... as if someone had walked into the room. I thought my step-dad might have awakened and so I went into the kitchen, planning to join him in a cup of coffee. But he wasn't there. I double checked and saw he was sleeping. I went back to my mother's side. Again, the candles danced. There were no doors or windows open ... no drafts. I went back to watching the slight raising and lowering of my mother's chest wondering what I would do if she stopped breathing. I'd never been with anyone when they died and I suddenly was filled with such fear.

Then a wonderful peace surrounded me. And I knew. It was time. I sensed I was in the presence of two angels who had come to accompany my mother Home. I moved to the other side of my mom and looked at her face. I'll never forget what I saw. All the lines were gone and there was a beautiful peace in the smooth skin. She looked years younger than 73. Without going into detail let me just say that over the weeks, my mother's face had been a reflection of the pain from her cancer and could've been used as a model for a halloween mask. No more. The horror was replaced with beauty and peace. I leaned down and kissed her cheek and told her I'd see her again. And then she stopped breathing. I stood there for a moment and then rushed and called to my dad and told him I thought mom was gone. Then I went back to her side.

I stood quietly still in the presence of the Holy Spirit. Again, the candles flickered as if people were walking through the room. I thought to myself, she was there when I came into this world and now I have the honor of being with her when she is leaving this world. I'll never know why, but my stepdad allowed me to be with my mom ... to say this final goodbye.

It was an awesome experience. I hadn't expected anything like that but I knew it was real.

Death is a certainty for all of us. How we deal with it is our choice. I truly admire you for the choice you've made. Yes, it is easy to get caught up in how others are reacting to the loss. But to be a light ... what a blessing you will be for the rest of the family.

You continue to be in my prayers.

Blessings, Francine

Vi, thanks for the update. I was moved to tears. Please take the time to read that book. You will feel blessed and continue to be that blessing/light to your extended family. You are doing an awesome job. I'm praying for your role as light!

Everyone feels differently about death. I believe if we are comforatble with the afterlife/heaven, then dying is a beautiful event. We hurt because we are no longer going to be with the one we love, but we must celebrate for the one who is finally crossing over. It is their final gift.

Writergirl, your post also brought me to tears. So many of your experiences with your mom were similar to mine. I can't believe it. Mom died of lung cancer. I had never witnessed someone basically get in bed and stay there until they died. Now I know why the hospice nurses were invaluable. They'd seen it over and over again. I witnessed it once and learned so much.

You mentioned your mom living longer than expected. So did Mom. My birthday is the 12th of March and I really thought she was going to die that day because the nurses said she only had a teeny space left in one lung. They were loaded with fluid. Mom died on St. Patrick's Day, the 17th!

That morning the hospice nurse took all of aside and said, "You have to leave your Mom alone. Don't talk to her. Don't touch her. Just go in the room, put the dropper of medicine in the side of her mouth and leave".

Dad and all five of Mom's children camped out at their home for days before she died. We took turns through the night tending to her. The nurse said it was time to leave her alone and let her die. She believed we were distracting her with our words and strokes. It sounds terrible, but she was right. ENOUGH! Mom knew we loved her, thought she was an awesome mom, and knew she was going to heaven. It was time.

For the rest of that day we did as the nurse said. We went in, put the dropper of morphine in her mouth, said nothing, and left often with tears streaming. It didn't feel right.

After eating our corned beef and cabbage in the other room (we're Irish, Mom's mother died on Valentine's Day, and her sister on the Fourth of July) Mom died. It was my turn to do the morphine. I went in and there was total silence. I immediately ran to the other room to get Dad and tell the others. No one believed me. Dad went in, stayed a bit of time, then came to tell us Mom's life on earth was over.

We all took our turns saying our private farewells. Then we cleaned her up, powdered and pampered her for the last time. We dressed her in our favorite lavendar pajamas, then hovered in another room when the men from the funeral home came to take her away. Dad didn't want us to witness that. So sweet!

Vi,
I haven't been able to respond sooner, but wanted you to know that your pain and situation have touched me deeply and I'm keeping you in heart-prayer (along with Ben in Afghanistan) [I can't remember whose son Ben is, but he's been deeply entrenched in my heart and being, and so are you now].

Francine, your story about your Mom (and Dotsie's too) also moved me to tears. I lost my Mom to cancer almost three years ago...I wanted to have the same story as yours, but after staying with her all night, hubby finally stepped in at 5am and insisted I go lay down in the waiting room couch for 20 minutes. He stayed with her, and it was as if she had refused to die while any of her children were in the room (it would have been like her to want to protect us from that pain, even though we all WANTED to be with her at that moment), because 5 minutes after I left, she died.

I'm still grieving, and have had a very tough time with that grief, but like Dotsie says, when one has faith in the afterlife, it's a bittersweet grief. I'm miss her so much, but am really happy she's where she is now. And I have the joyous blessing of looking forward to seeing her again someday.

Vi, we're praying for/with you and keeping you close in our hearts throughout this tough journey. I hope our care and heart-prayers keep you warm and safe all along the way.

[ June 09, 2005, 03:23 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

I just want to say it is amazing how similar our circumstances are. I know my mom hung on because she didn't want to leave us ... knowing how much we would miss her. She lived at least 3 weeks longer than she was supposed to. Still, there's something about that connection with those you love.

I still miss her but her cancer her brought her to know the Lord and now I have the comfort of a future homecoming with her.

Vi, just remember, the one we love live on in our hearts and memories.

Blessings, Francine

Francine - Thank you. I'm so honored that you chose to share your experience with your mom's passing. My thought is that when the lines left her face, and she looked serene, by then her spirit had left her body, so she no longer felt the pain, and she was standing with the angels watching you, saying goodbye, loving you, embracing you in that love. She did the best she could to be sure you would be all right - consummate, pure and perfect mother's love. It's really Divine love, I believe. And then she allowed her body to die. What a gift she gave you.

Dotsie - Wow. Thank you. You, too, bless me with your sharing - to lose Mom in such a way - so difficult to get through. Yes, I agree it can be beautiful. To be with someone in their final moments is the most intimate, loving experience we can have, even though it is ripping our hearts out. I agree about the hospice helpers being such a God-send. My boyfriend, Gary, died in the hospice unit of a hospital.

Eagle Heart - Thank you, too, for sharing your heart with me. Three years can be an interminable amount of time to feel the pain/the loss. Getting over Gary's death took me years, even though I made a new life for myself with a loving man. The loss remained. Thankfully, he was mature and loving enough to allow me to heal myself as I needed to. And when it is your mother - I remember what Aunt Lottie, my grand aunt, said once. Her mother had been gone probably twenty years by then. Aunt Lottie was probably eighty years old when she said, "Without your mother, what do you have...?" Her words trailed off into infinity.

Aunt Lottie was a strong, spiritual, old woman. She was 45 years older than me. When I asked her how she dealt with all the losses, she said most of the time she was all right with it, but once in a while they ganged up on her.

A dear friend, Tosca, died, a death I did not hear about until 9 months afterwards, and I learned about it when I was in the middle of handling another crisis. I couldn't put Tosca's death to rest. She was someone I thought would live to be very old. She could heal herself quickly of any health malady. She was loving, pure of spirit, talented, creative. So when I learned of her death I was stunned. She was 76. I felt cheated, the loss unacceptable. This went on for two years. I am a painter, and I'm learning to do likeness. I love painting people. So I decided to paint a picture of Tosca. While I was painting this picture I talked aloud to her. I told her how upset I was that she had died. I told her how I missed her. I talked to her about a lot of things. By the time the painting was complete, I had accepted her death.

I think it was Eienstein who said, "We stand on the shoulders of giants." Aunt Lottie and Tosca are two of the giants I stand on. I am a better person because of them. But oh, I miss them so much sometimes. So much. And yes, I'm glad they are in a place where they can learn and grow. But for me, selfishly....

The death of the physical body leaves the rest of us perplexed how to deal with it on this level. I mean, even when we have a belief that says the person's spirit is now with God, and they are fine, still.... We have a void, an emptiness. Mom/Dad/our loved one is no longer sitting in their favorite chair. The house where they lived rings with the emptiness, even if others are present. We can no longer touch their skin. We can no longer see the love, the ways they could get upset, hear the things they have to say. I was amazed after my boyfriend, Gary, died how quickly I forgot what his voice sounded like. I longed to hear his voice again. After Dad died I longed to see him sitting in the easy chair pretending not to have tears in his eyes when he watched a sad movie. I longed to have my loved ones alive again, so they could annoy me. Yes, annoy me. We always talk about the good qualities in our loved ones who have died. But let's face it, all of them annoyed us at times, and we annoyed them.

And then there are those well-meaning people who say to us, "Turn it over to God. He will comfort you." Yes, of course, but during the worst of the pain, I long to touch the other person's skin. God doesn't have skin I can touch. The physical emptiness rings in pain.

I've come to believe that we are God's skin.

Vi

Vi ... you're beautifully written post moved me to tears. Thank you, thank you, thank you for what you described regarding my mom. What a wonderful picture I have that I will always hold in my heart.

You are a very courageous and sensitive woman and thank you for minister to me.

Hugs and blessings, Francine

Vi,
What beautiful insight; thank you so much for sharing. This brought tears to my eyes, because you express everything I still long to express but don't, because it's been three years and I think I "ought" not to be pouring out my longing and agony of absence for everyone to see anymore. But it's all still there, raw, fresh, yearning; I miss them more today than ever before. That void, that empty spot at the table of my heart still hurt; the smells and smiles and quirks and idiosyncracies linger so long after that I can't help but long for the skin that used to contain all those smells and smiles and quirks and idiosyncracies.

And how I too would love to be annoyed by my Mom just one more time.

I've had a lifelong problem with the well-intentioned phrase "God is enough", because the concept of God, even a profound faith in the unseen God, isn't always enough to assuage the yearning for skin to touch with our passion and love and longing. We ARE God's skin to each other; without our hands, our hugging arms, our smiling faces, our feet, our caring eyes and listening ears, God is severely limited in how He can touch us and truly be with us in the ways that our hearts and souls yearn to be companioned.

Thank you again Vic, for sharing your depth of insight and wisdom.

Wow,thanks to both of you, Francine and Eagle Heart, for your affirmations of what I was feeling needed to be said. I didn't answer your posts yesterday because I wanted to think about it. Really, I hoped God would give me the words, so you would know what you felt in your heart was truly being heard by someone other than just me. Sometimes, I'm blessed to be an instrument this way. I was even thinking that maybe your moms were with me, as well, guiding me to find a way to comfort you.

Thank you for your kinds words.

From this little patch of God's skin,
Vi

Dotsie what a beautiful way to say good bye to your mom. You all helped her die in peace with the love that surrounded her room. Aileen

Dotsie, I want to thank you so much for recommending Final Gifts: The Special Awareness Needs and Communications of the Dying to me. I got it yesterday and am not quite half way through it. It is beautiful, and oh so helpful. I recommend it to everyone, even those who are struggling to overcome the loss of someone who has already passed. And again I want to thank you for sharing your story of your mother's passing. I didn't say enough about how much it touched me. You are a wondferful soul,as are all the women on this site. It amazes me how loving you all are.

Blessings to all of you.
Vi

Vi, I'm so glad the book is helping you see the belssing amidst the sadness. You and your family remain in my thoughts and prayers. Did you get to see her this weekend?

Vi, I'm so glad you found this forum at this time of heartache for you. I lost my beautiful aunt last September and it was the wonderful women on this site who helped me heal and realize that she had moved on to a place she wanted to be. I will be praying for you also. I wish you peace.

I greatly appreciate everyone's prayers. It does help.

No, Dotsie, I did not see my sister this weekend. She was very weak by Saturday and had to be taken by ambulance to emergency. Turns out, her heart, which functions very poorly, wasn't providing enough oxygen. They put her on oxygen full time and sent her home. When she wokeup the next morning, she felt a lot better. I didn't know about until yesterday afternoon when I talked to her. She had clarity, and it was a good conversation.

While I talked to her I kept in mind the things I learned from the book Dotsie recommended. So when my sister said she woke up and heard her son's voice and thought it was an angel, (she hadn't known he and his wife had spent the night) I used the opportunity to ask her if she saw angels and told that I do sometimes. She said she thought maybe so, but she always forgets. At least now she knows she can talk to me about it. Then this morning I heard from my brother-in-law. He said today she is weak and rambling again, and he was hoping he could get her to the car and take her to her doctor's appointment. She can no longer walk. The doorways in the house aren't wide enough for a wheelchair. I haven't heard yet how that went. My husband and I will be up to see them Friday, the day after they go to Hospice to see what services are available to them. I sensed my brother-in-law is near breaking. His kids are helping him, but still.

Dianne, yes, I am so glad I found the site and have the support from you and all the wonderful people here. It's a blessing. So glad you had help with your dear aunt.

I spent the day yesterday mellowing myself out about the whole thing.

Thank you all.

My love to all of you.

Vi

During times like these, I believe God puts his arms around us and holds us safe against his heart. I pray that, even through this awful time, you can feel those wonderful arms surrounding you with love.

smile

It's a lovely, cozy-feeling belief. Thank you for sharing it.

Vi

Vi, I got teary eyed when you mentioned that your sister knows she can talk to you about angels. That book taught me to validate the thoughts of the dying because they often need that validation to carry on.

I believbe every person in your sister's life plays an important role. You are definitely in a minister's role. Revel in it! Pour your love on her.

Vi, how is your dear Mom doing? I am guessing you are sharing what you have been reading with her. My hopes, thoughts and prayers are with you still.

chick

My aunt also spoke to angels. In one moment of clarity, she told me she could watch something like a slide show passing before her eyes. I asked her what she saw but she stopped talking at that point. I believe it was only good pictures, just like her heart.

Yes, Dotsie, I feel my job is to pour love on to her. Beyond that I play it by ear each time I visit her.

Chick, I talk to my mom once a week unless there's an emergency - it's long distance, and my husband and I are on a tight budget. Her mind isn't what it once was, so I only share some of what I'm reading with her. She's not a person whose into reading or grasping new concepts. She never was.

I mentioned the angels Sunday when I talked to her. Off and on in the past, I've talked to her about what it might be like to die. She's been expecting to die for a while now. Her heart is bad. She's not afraid. She's ready. She's never seen an angel, or so she tells me. But one time when as I woke up I saw an image of Mom standing beside my bed. She was wearing a scarf, and a pink cardigan sweater and was caring her purse. When I talked to her after, that I asked her if she remembered dreaming about visiting me. She didn't remember it. But I think she may have been having a small stroke at the time. After that her mind was not as clear. She has never been one to remember her dreams. She is very religious, but at that time did not believe a person could see spirits. I've been trying to gently open her mind to it for some time. I've told her of other people I know who see them, including me.

Dianne, seeing angels can be so comforting. I'm so glad your aunt told you about it. I was raised to believe that we couldn't see such things, that that ability died out when Jesus' apostles died. But I love it when they appear to me. It is so cool.

Tonight I heard from my brother-in-law. Hospice comes tomorrow. Thank God. Thursday they were supposed to talk to the oncologist about hospice. Dan told him they couldn't wait. They got a portapotty today for beside the bed, so he doesn't have to try to get her to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He's afraid his back is going to go out. Tomorrow hospice will bring a small wheel chair and talk to them.

In addition to Anita's regular pain killers they are now giving her methadone. I do hope the good Lord takes her peacefully, soon. I realize it is not my timing .... but God bless everyone involved. They are so tired and stressed.

There is so much to be learned from something like this. It's invaluable. Before my mom's last husband died, I learned a tremendous amount about Alzheimers. The poor man would get so frustrated. He loved to talk, and he couldn't get the words out. He hated living like that. He told me so on several occasions before the last of his words failed him. Thankfully, his heart took him before he had to be institutionalized.

Life has so many beautiful lessons. A lot of them are accompanied by pain. And for me at least, I know I wouldn't learn them nearly as well without that pain.

My love to all of you dear sisters. Thanks for your ongoing prayers and support.

Vi, hospice should be a real blessing for her husband and her. He will be relieved of some of the constant attention he has had to pour on her. It's exhausting. Everyone needs a break.

Were you raised Catholic? Just wondering because of what you said about the angels.

It's weird. I've never seen angels, but I certainly know when the Holy Spirit is involved with my life.

[ June 15, 2005, 05:38 PM: Message edited by: Dotsie ]

Yes, I'm sure that my sister's familiy will be relieved to have the help from hospice. I imagine it was extremely hard on your family when you went through this, as it is on all families who deal with it. Today, I've been down about it all. Thanks for your insights and your prayers. You and your Website are a blessing.

No, I was not raised Catholic. It was a Church of Christ with a very strict doctrine. The minister thought he was the only one who knew what was right - the gospel according to Melvin. It turned a lot of us off. The God I'd been raised with was a jerk. I couldn't believe in a jerk. So I became agnostic after I left home, and my spirituality floated for a while. That changed with what my brother did in 1980. I began searching for a higher way of viewing things. A spiritual mother, Peg, found me and helped. Then after my boyfriend, Gary, died in 1988 I opened to yet another level. While I was healing another spiritual mother, Elaine, found me and helped me in so many ways. She saw angels and other spiritual beings. After their deaths, people whose spirits were passing into the light would be attract to her light, and she would pray for them, help them to see their guides and go into the light.

I started exploring the sacred texts of a number of religions. It gave me a respect for the beliefs of others that were very different than mine. Ultimately that led me to write a multicultural novel which is part of a trilogy I'm marketing. About four years after Gary's death I began waking and seeing holographed beings. I never expected to see them - not after what Melvin taught as I was growing up. It's like the beings were on duty watching after me, their heads were moving, back and forth like they were surveying things I couldn't see. I only saw them from the shoulders up. One day I would see one of them. The next day it would be another I saw. There were three different beings. Their lips were moving, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. At first it scared me. They were so huge. I came to know that they were good beings, so the fear went away. I call them my guardian angels. One time I awoke to see a line of beings holographed next to the bed. One would step forward and I could see it, then another one would show itself, and another and another. It was very interesting.

It makes me feel so protected and cared for, being able to see them. I know they are always there, although I forget to look for them when I first wake up these days. The image fades as my day vision kicks in.

My great maternal grandmother, Sarah, saw angels and other spiritual beings. My grand aunt, Lottie, Sarah's daughter, also saw such beings. One time she said she saw Jesus hallographed out over the canyon in back of her home. She told me after her little sister, Lila, was severely burned, before she passed she saw an angel. Lila said the angel was so beautituful.

I put beings like this in the visionary fiction books I write. My hope is that through my stories people will find hope, in their own way, like I have. That's the long answer to your short question.... Hope you don't mind.

Love, Vi

My sister, Anita, died yesterday, Friday June 17th.

Wednesday, the 14th, I didn't get on the net in the evening to answer my emails and such, the way I normally do. Neither did my husband. So the phone was free. Finally just before bed at about 10:45 I decided to check my emails. One had come in at 7:30. It was from my sister's daughter. She said that she didn't expect her mother to live through the night, that she had the look on her face like an animal gets before it dies, eyes glazed, food just ran out of her mouth. She was unresponsive. My niece was not at her parents' home when she wrote the email, her brother and his wife were. It did not feel urgent for me to get to my sister's house. It was late, so I didn't want to call my brother-in-law, Dan, just in case everyone was asleep. The next morning, Thursday, at nine I called, expecting Dan to say my sister was dead. He said she seemed to have come out of it a little and was willing to take in Popsicles and eat a little something. So my husband and I immediately drove up.

I kept in mind the things I was still reading from the book, Final Gifts, as well as the things I had learned from other deaths of those close to me. We arrived at the house and Anita was laying in the easy chair beside the couch. She responded to me, and I told her I love her. In a very weak soft voice she told me she loved me too. There was no doubt that she was going to die or slip into a deep coma soon. She's diabetic - the chemo caused that - and her blood sugar was down to 40, which is extremely low. Dan had been trying to get her to eat and drink, but she was no longer willing to do that very much of the time. She finally had a little orange juice and a little candy. Her blood sugar rose to 98. Her face had, by now, lost all the lines. It looked thin and frail, though the rest of her did not look emaciated. She could not hold herself up. Each time Dan gave her something he held her tenderly, spoke sweetly to her. I know he was exhausted from the 5 year fight with the disease. And as she got worse and worse, he slept less and less, but you would never know it from his tone with her. Anita slipped in and out, her mouth open as she "slept." Sometimes she snored. I was sitting next to her when I decided to tell Dan of the dream I had had the night before. In the dream I was in a room with a bunch of people, Anita was there, and she was very ill. In the next scene I was standing outside the front door with Anita. I asked her if she was alive. She said, "I don't know." I woke up.

Their son and his wife and step-son were also there some of the time. There was hugging going on - intense feelings exchanged through the hugs. One time when I hugged my nephew I could feel the energy exchange, and when I pulled away I felt almost a jolt of energy leave me. I knew it was because he was so needy, had no strength, and took some of mine. I've felt energy drains before, but not like this. This was like a smack of it. I felt instantly depleted. I did not mind. He and his wife and son took the opportunity, while Phil and I were there, to go home and get more clothes and things they needed. So while they were gone, and while Phil and Dan were in the other room talking to the pet birds, I decided this was my chance. By then Anita was laying on the couch. I walked over to Anita. Her eyes were closed. I said softly, "It's okay if you want to go home. We will miss you, but if you need to go, we will be all right." She said, "Go home? You are going home?" "No," I said, "I'm talking about you going home." Dan and Phil came back in. Anita said, "go home?" Dan said, "No, they(meaning Phil and me) were not going home yet." She repeated it another time and he reassured her we were not going home.

After my nephew and his wife returned I had the chance to talk to his wife. I have never had the opportunity to get close to her before, but she was so obviously concerned. So we talked and hugged, and I told her about Final Gifts. She said she would get it and read it, so she could help everyone with what they were going through. I felt her soul. She's a good lady. She's been in the family about 4 years. I told her that everyone needed to tell Anita that she had permission to die. She told me her husband was a "puddle." One time when I hugged him I told him he would make it through this somehow. He said he didn't know how. We were all in and out of the house, standing around talking, hugging, like people do at times like this. Phil and I stayed several hours. Then we told my sister goodbye and again told her I love her. She was aware of us. She repeated, "I love you too." As we were leaving Dan walked us out to the car and told us that the night before, his daughter had him read something she found on the web about what to expect as Anita died. He said it was hard to read. He said his son read it too. We talked about when Dan would want me to go pick up Mom - a five hour trip. He wasn't sure yet. We decided to wait until after the hospice visit the next day at one - to wait for their assessment.

On the way home, Phil said what he saw was real family there, and it was beautiful. All the barriers were gone. When Phil and I got home, via email, I sent my niece the name of the book, Final Gifts, since I now knew she would be open to it. The next morning I received an update from Dan by email. I spent the morning reading more of Final Gifts. Phil was on the web. At about 12:20 ish I went downstairs to see if Phil was ready for lunch. Phil was still on the web. We were talking, and he was finishing up what he was doing on the web. At 12:25 we were automatically disconnected from the web. At 1:20ish I received a phone call from Dan. He said, "She's gone." She had died at 12:25.

When Dan called, hospice had just left. Dan told me that his sister was bringing Mom up. So, thank God, I didn't have to. When they had left, Anita was still alive. We worried how this news would affect Mom. She's 86 with a bad heart. Turns out, a little before Anita died, she asked to see her momma. When Dan told Anita that Mom was on her way, a tear came to Anita's eye. In a few minutes she died peacefully at home the way she wanted to.

Phil and I went up immediately. It's an hour away. Anita's body was still on the couch. Since she was being cremated, they waited to have the funeral home come out until after Mom got there so Mom could say good-bye. Since Dan's sister had a cell phone, someone called and told her while she was en route that Anita had died. Dan's sister is a sweet loving person, who has had many losses, so it was good Mom was with her.

Phil and I stayed at the house for some time. There was a lot of sadness, of course. We all did the things families do at times like this. The picture albums are out, phone calls are made. People took turns breaking down and being strong for each other, talking about Anita. Phil has never been around death. (I have been my whole life. My family and I are of pioneer stock, and my family members used to have big families. A myriad of my family members have died over the years, and my parents chose not to protect me from it.) In addition to it being sad for him, Phil was observing the interactions. He said he thought it interesting that it was the men who were the ones visibly breaking down. The women got tears in their eyes, but the men sobbed. Dan, of course, but also his son and his son-in-law. His son in-law lost both his mother and his father in the last year. In addition, people were teasing each other about any little thing, and there was some joking going on. That's how much of my family lessens the stress. My dad always said, "I wouldn't tease you, if I didn't love you, Sissy."

The house was going to be full last night with people sleeping on the floor, in the travel trailer, and stuffed into corners. Phil and I would have been welcome to stay, but we had no need to do so. The memorial service is to be held on Saturday the 25th...the day of the family reunion on my dad's side in another part of the state. The Red Cross arranged for Dan and Anita's grandson, who is in the Navy, to fly home for the service. God bless them.

Last night I was glad to be able to come home to recuperate. The energy drain is extensive when one goes to something like this to offer support and freely give love to those who need it, as well as, dealing with one's own loss. This week, I work on myself, so that when next Saturday arrives, I will have a full supply of love to give to my needy family.

Hurting, but at peace with it,
Vi

[ June 19, 2005, 09:47 PM: Message edited by: Vi ]

Vi
What a beautiful and loving way to deal with the loss of your sister.

I hope you can feel the warmth and love of our prayers as they surround you at this time.

May God be with you and your family.
smile

Vi, thank you so much for sharing your loss with us. It's beautiful. I can't help but notice all the love within your family.

And you are so selfless. God bless you. I know God will replenish you with His spirit this week so you can go spread His love again for the funeral. I am so proud of you for being His hands, arms, and heart in love.

I continue to pray for everyone involved.

I hope you will print this topic so you can reflect on it at a later date. It will warnm your heart.

Also, I could picture you going through all of this as I read your post. Somehow I was also picturing my family experiencing many similarities during Mom's illness and death. Thanks for the memories. They are bittersweet.

Smile, thanks for your loving kindness. It does so help.

Dotsie, thank you for your words, the feelings behind them, the prayers and for being willing to experience your own pain to help me with mine. Bless you. I do plan to print it all out. It's a good journal, filled with support.

My love to you,
Vi

Vi, My thoughts and prayers are with you, your dear Mom and family. God bless you in your time of sorrow.

Andria

Vi, Thank you for sharing this moving, loving tribute to your compassion and to your sister. It certainly brought back so many memories of my mom's death. But there is a sweet tenderness in your words and certainly hope for others who might be facing losses.

May God bless you and your sister's family as they deal with the loss but I pray they celebrate her life as well.

Hugs and blessings, Francine

Vi, thank you for feeling comfortable enough with us to have shared this intimate look at the difficult last weeks of your sister's life and struggle with her illness particularly as it has effected the whole family. I hope you have felt the love and support from all of us here. You are an extraordinarily strong person and I'm sure that strength was felt - and appreciated - by your family as you all dealt with Anita's illness.

I hope this next week your strength will be replenished as you have so generously given of it to those around you......

God bless you and your family....

Vi, I don't really know what to say but I want to thank you for sharing so openly. Your sister was very lucky to have you in her life. I'm glad you could see her one final time. I'm sending my love to you and your family.

Vi, thank you for sharing your thoughts and the experience. You are generous with your emotions and energy. Love and Light, Lynn

Vi, I'm so sorry to hear about your sister. I hope the love and care of family, friends, God and all of your sisters here will help to carry you through the hecticness of the next few days, and then companion you on your journey through the hurt and loneliness of losing your sister.

My heart and thoughts are with you...

I find all of your responses so amazing...a sisterhood that I shall always cherish.

Thank you, Andria for your thoughts, prayers and blessings.

Thank you, Francine, for your prayers, blessings, good thoughts and for saying my words may help others. I do so hope so.

Thank you, Pam - of course I'm comfortable sharing with you - all of you. How could I not be? You are all so compassionate and caring. Yes, I feel the support and it helps.

Lynn, thank you for your love, your light and your kind words.

Thank you, Eagle Heart, for your support. I know you know my pain.

This morning I was reminded of a song I used to sing in Sunday school:

Help somebody today,
Somebody along life's way.
Let sorrow be ended,
the friendless befriended,
Oh help somebody today.

That's the point - isn't it?

My love to all of you,
Vi

[ June 19, 2005, 09:49 PM: Message edited by: Vi ]

Vi,

Thank you for sharing with us. I was honored and humbled to be a witness (albeit only through this Forum) to the love and devotion that surrounded your sister's last days.

When I finished your post, I closed my eyes and sent out "strength" -- although you have plenty, more is always good, especially in times when others will need what you can give them --

then "love" -- again, which is so plentiful in your life, but there's never too much of --

and peace, and prayers, and a circle which you can stand inside, which is made up of all of our arms linked together.

[ June 20, 2005, 05:50 AM: Message edited by: meredithbead ]

Vi,
I'm joining the circle and so sorry for the loss of your sister. Your family is a truly amazing group of people.

Vi, funny how we find comfort in the simplest words of our youth. Blessings all around.

Dear sweet Vi,
I was with you thru the picture you've painted for us of Anita's last days and hours on this earth. It brought back memories for me when my Daddy passed away last year, and reminded me of all of the love that surrounded us during that time. I too feel that your family is amazing and and hope you can feel all of us with you while you sort through your feelings and meet your own grief. We are here...

Love, JJ

My Sister's Shoes

Meredithbead, thank you for your support, your strength, all the love you are sending. Thank you for being part of the circle.

TVC15, blessings to you for joining this circle of support. I am very grateful.

Dotsie, yes, the words planted during childhood can sprout as simple blessings later in life.

JJ,thanks for your kindness toward me and my family, your special heart and your prayers.

Today, I wore my sister's shoes to the river. It was a warm day as my husband and I stood on the bridge overlooking the Umpqua River. He was fishing for salmon. I was fishing for peace. The morning clouds had gone and only an occasional puffy one wandered across the sky.

It's been only two weeks since Anita gave me the shoes. She said they were too tight for her, would I like to have them. I found them by the front door - white canvas tenny runners with a few smudges of dirt on each one. I sat down near the couch where she was laying and slipped them on. Width-wise they were fine. They were a little too long, but as my husband tells me I have Barny Rubble feet. My toes rarely reach the ends of my shoes. I usually have to add stuffing if they are to fit just right. I showed them to Anita and thanked her.

We had never been able to wear each others clothes like sister often do. I was eight when she left home. After her babies she was never able to lose the weight. One time after one of her diets, when she gained some of the weight back, she offered me a yellow outfit that was now too small for her. I didn't wear that kind of thing, so I didn't take it. After the fact I knew that she was making a loving sisterly gesture and so wanted me to have it. Ever since I regretted not taking it. So not long before the visit two weeks ago, I decided that if she ever offered me any of her clothes again, I would take them.

So today, it was comforting wearing my sister's shoes, sitting on the bridge watching the river heading toward the sea.

Vi

[ June 21, 2005, 02:08 AM: Message edited by: Vi ]

Dear Vi

May God Bless the hearts of you and your family and your dear sister. The beauty of your words touched me and I don't know what to say except...peace, may it always walk with you and those you love.

With love
Leigha

Leigha,

Thank you. The love and peace you share with me is more than enough.

Blessings to you,

Vi

Vi,

Your posts here continue to touch my heart and spirit.

While my mom gave us other things over the years, she didn't give any of her clothes. She made porcelain dolls and I have one that I can cuddle and hug to my chest when I'm really missing her.

But after her death, my step-dad asked if we wanted to go through her things. All three of us girls said YES.

It really was kind of a healing experience but bitter sweet at the same time. I took a variety of things for different reasons. (Not shoes ... could never fit into her tiny size -- lol.) Anyway, I have a sweater and two flannel nightgowns that I love wearing because it's like having mom's arms wrapped around me. And I think she would find pleasure in that fact.

We never know where or when something will happen in our lives that ends up comforting us in our losses but I'm so thankful that I treasure these things ... as I'm sure you treasure those shoes.

I wish I'd known about this site when my mom died ... I think it would've been a comfort then. I do know that it is comforting now.

Thank you, Vi for all you've shared.

Hugs and blessings, Francine

Vi,
You never know when in your grief you help others to heal even further. After reading the post about the shoes, I sat here and tears filled my eyes until I looked down and realized I had on Daddy's pj bottoms. They were the ones he always wore at the home and are those wonderful cotton pants with the drawstrings...you know what I'm talking about?

Well, days after his death, I was going thru things I had brought home with me from the VA home when I noticed a bag I had held tight during that entire night...in it were these pants and a few other "Daddy" items. I wear them every, single, night. Talk about comforting. You never have to really let go. Not really.

JJ

Between the death of my Dad in 1999 and Mom's in 2001, I bought my Mom special hand-made nightgowns...large, roomy, flannel, long-sleeve, with deep pockets for her endless supply of kleenix. They were so cuddly, and she loved those nightgowns. By the time she died, she had six in her wardrobe. So I gave each of my three nieces one of Granny's nightgowns, kept two for myself, and gave the sixth one to my sister-in-law. All six of the nightgowns have been worn thin since then, but none of us will ever give them up or away.

They're too warm for me to wear these days (hot flashes and night sweats), but in those times when I'm missing my Mom terribly, it's so comforting to slip one on and just cuddle up in her warm essence.

Oh girls,I can barely see to type this. My eyes are as filled as my heart reading your bittersweet responses. I just finished writing about Mom a few minutes before coming here so it kind of caught me off guard I guess. I too have a story.

Mom gave me a sweatshirt with an owl on it for my birthday about 15 years ago. It is ragged on the sleeves, a hole in the back collar and the owl had faded into the black background. We were travelling and I told her, No Mom I don't want anything for my birthday. She was a widow living on a fixed income at the time. Mom said "I am buying it for you."

I wear it on the days I really need her in the winter and I wear her old(now) green housecoat every day when I wake up. I am so afraid they will just go to shreds soon.

I am having the sweat shirt "owl pic" professionally framed some day. I am going to wear the green housecoat till I walk out of it.

Dearest Vi, I know how hard it was for you to post about your sister, but you will never know how it has helped with my never ending healing of losing my rock, my mentor, my heart and soul friend - my Mom. I thank you from my healing heart.

Andria

Francine, thank you for sharing your experiences with us. A porcelain doll, a sweater, two flannel nightgowns - it is so nice to have these things to bring her close to you. When you hold the doll, when you wear the clothing, have you felt her spirit with you? I believe those we love come back, now and again, to check in on us. I think our thoughts bring them sometimes.

JJ, I agree. We don't really have to let go. Love never ends. Love follows us across eternity. Daddy's pj bottoms and his other things bring him closer to you in more ways than you know. He loves you so.

Eagle Heart, no wonder you've had such a hard time with your losses - 2 so close together can have a crippling effect. I'm so glad you have your momma's flannel nightgowns. Menopause does get over with eventually, so they tell me, and you will still have this gift that you can slip into. The essence of the ones we love is always with us. It guides us, directs us, makes us stronger. Your mother cherishes all the beauty the two of you shared. This is something she wants you to know.

Andria, owls are watchers of the night. Have you ever considered that maybe this owl is symbolic of your mother continuing to watch over you? Green is the color of life, of growth. Slipping into a green house coat is slipping into comfort and growth of the heart.

You all honor me with your words, your sharing. I'm so glad to share with you in this way. The whole experience is really helping me.

Bless you all,
Vi

I am so awed by how so many of us seem to value the same things and, in fact, share some of the same memories. Andria ... I have my mom's green robe ... it's beautiful and I have worn it (unless, like Eagle Heart, hot flashes overwhelm me). And JJ, the picture of you wearing your Daddy's pants is so touching. The idea of preserving the sweatshirt owl is an excellent one.

I do think that these pieces of our loved ones do carry a part of them with us. I have some of my mother's things in storage back in the states ... since my step-dad died while I was here, I haven't had a chance to really embrace them into my life yet but I'm so looking forward to it.

Thank you all for sharing the beautiful memories ... and Vi, I so admire your courage to post your "heart" here. We truly are sisters at heart.

Hugs and blessings, Francine

Vi you really have touched ALL of us with your story of Anita and how you so gracefully continue to move through these days since she's gone. I really was moved by the story of her shoes.....

Like the other ladies, I too kept items from both my parents after they passed away. I have a beautiful blue silk blouse that belonged to my Mom, and a lovely red silk dressing gown from the orient that my Dad bought for her when we lived in Taiwan. Like JJ, I saved my Dad's favorite pajamas and wear them when I'm feeling "down" or if I'm sick and just need special comfort!

I have other "things" that I've kept of my parents but it's the clothing that makes me feel closest to them I guess.

That's why your shoe story, Vi, touched me so.

I think your brave and open heart in sharing your thoughts and feelings about Anita with us here in the forum has allowed us to release a lot of things in our OWN hearts. We all really DO have more in common than we knew.

Francine, bless you for your kind words, your insights, your wisdom.
Pam, thanks for sharing about your special Mom and Dad things. It is very touching.

I awoke this morning with an image in my mind, one I will attempt to share with you.

I am standing on a precipice. The sky is before me, below me, above me. I feel a breeze unfurling my wings, wings I didn't know I had. I look around for the origin. It is not readily apparent. I feel a lift. Alone, frightened, unsure, exhilarated I glide into the vast ocean of sky. I know not where I will land, if I will land. And it is good, it is oh so good. For soon I learn that the breeze is a celestial one and wherever it is guiding me will always be good, even though it may not always seem so at the time.

Vi

[ June 22, 2005, 03:06 PM: Message edited by: Vi ]

Sounds like you are "releasing" and feeling that freedom Vi.......it also sounds like a perfectly wonderful image to me!

Vi, how cook that you should feel uplifted during this week!

Vi,

I just tuned in and learned of Anita's passing. Bless her and your family.

Your words brought back similiar memories of my loved one's passings and I am grateful for the tearful reminders. You are quite eloquent and your descriptions very vivid so that we all could slip into your story and experience our own. Thank you for sharing that during your grief.

Keep us posted on your journey, it will be a good one but not always easy.

Keeping you in my thoughts,

Lynn

When I started posting about my sister, I had no idea I would get this kind of support, these kinds of responses. For me, I'm just sharing my journey. It helps me. And I had hoped that maybe it might help someone else too. I had no idea, no idea of the beauty that would come of it through the eyes and hearts of all you blessed women. The cool thing is, that I'm sure we are all from a variety of beliefs systems - yet we are sisters of the heart - sharing each others pain and blessings. In my opinion, this is what it's all about, giving love to each other - even though we've never met. If we think of extending this worldwide, we can imagine how amazing the results could be. That is one of my goals, really, to love - worldwide - everyone, no matter who or what they are. Wonderful goal, not easy to accomplish. But then, we aren't alone. We have each other. We are a circle of love and it is expanding. Wonderful, isn't it?

Vi

I used this in the preface section of my book; it seems appropriate to share it here:

If there is light
In the soul,
There will be beauty
In the person.

If there is beauty
In the person,
There will be harmony
In the house.

If there is harmony
In the house,
There will be order
In the nation.

If there is order
In the nation,
There will be peace
In the world.

~ Chinese Proverb

This is truly beautiful.

Vi

Eagle, thanks for sharing. It all begins within each one of us. Powerful, huh?

Anticipation

This entire week, always in the back of my mind, sometimes in the foreground is my sister's impending memorial service. I really can't get on with the recovery until it is over.

I talked with Dan, he told me a little of what they planned for the service - a celebration. He and his kids designed it in a way so it won't be so sad.

Under it all I sense his desperation. I know something of the emotional turmoil he is headed into. The saddest thing for me is that I can't remove or dissolve his pain. It wouldn't be good if I could. It's his journey, his opportunity.

Tomorrow is a day to get through - the service, the reception, talking to people with our emotions raw and dealing with some with whom we have unresolved conflicts, hoping none of it surfaces at the wrong time in the wrong way.

Even so, this has been a productive week for me. I've spent my mornings staring at nature, letting go. I've spent my afternoons painting a picture from a photograph of my husband taken during his young hunk years, and thinking of where my life is about to take me, where I am about to direct it to go.

As sad as it all is, it is, in fact, a beautiful time of growth. I look forward to the coming journey. I await the unfolding for the highest good, even if I do it at first with tears in my heart.

Vi

Vi, you are SO in my thoughts andprayers this weekend. I know you will be a blessing to others. Don't forget to let them be a blessing to you.

I'm holding you in my heart through the weekend too Vi.

Same here Vi...we will all be thinking of you as your journey begins. Tears are okay my friend, and serve a healing purpose too. Spend your grief in any way you have to and know we're here by your side.

JJ

Vi, Just know that our hearts and prayers are with you on your journey.

Love
Andria

i'm also holding you and your family in my thoughts and prayers and sending positive energy your way

carolyn

Vi ... I'm glad the service is designed as a celebration.

While our hearts our breaking, our loved ones' spirits are soaring.

My thoughts are with you.

Hugs and blessings, Francine

Thank you all for your support. It greatly blesses me and my loved ones.

My husband, Phil, and I arrived at my sister and brother-in-laws house around 11 a.m. The service was scheduled for 2. The house was nearly ready for the guests that would arrive later. Mom and Dan were there along with my brother's son and grandson. They'd driven from central California, a 12 hour drive, instead of taking Amtrak because it was running 2 hours late. Dan gave Phil and I a large framed picture of Anita, a copy of the one enhanced for the service. It was thoughtful of him. He had copies for other family members as well.

I had decided to flow with whatever happened. Emotions were largely concealed. I know that during this time, with the service pending, people often put on their facades so they can make it through - without breaking down, or whatever. Dan and Anita's oldest son, the one mentioned earlier in this thread, his wife and step son arrived. We all drove over to the chapel. Dan's daughter and son-in-law were waiting. Some of the flowers Dan had ordered had not been delivered. We had this problem when my mom's last husband died. A call corrected this error. Because of this, the florist gave Dan two free arrangements. The family arranged the flowers and the displays and set up the large picture of Anita in the vestibule along with a couple of collages of family pictures.

Dan learned that Anita still had not been cremated. It had been 8 days. This bothered him. This meant that urn that was up front next to the flowers was empty.

Next, we went to a Izzy's, a pizza place, with a buffet for lunch. Grandkids, great grandkids, his daughter, son and their families joined us. I had been to Izzy's 2 months earlier when Anita and Dan took my friend Mary and I there for my birthday lunch. There were 18 of us, this time. It was a comfortable peaceful gathering.

Back at the chapel relatives and friends had started to arrive. Some of them I had not seen for ten years - last family reunion on my mom's side. It's always interesting to me to see who comes to this kind of thing and who doesn't. There was a reunion scheduled in another part of the state for the same day for Dad's side of the family. So some of those people didn't come, but some came to Anita's service instead. My dad's siblings are gone. Mom is the last one of her generation on her side. One of Mom's remaining sister-in-laws was too ill to come, the other had just had surgery. There was a lot of hugging. I am grateful to each one who came. There was a good crowd. I always think ahead of time - what if not very many people show up?

As people entered the chapel, Peter, Paul and Mary songs were playing in the background. Mom, Phil and I went up to the front to sit by Dan. He had opted not to sit in the family room. Soon he moved to the other side of the front of the chapel. Angus his 4 year old grandson wanted to sit over there, Dan said. Soon others joined Dan.

The service began with the pastor talking of Anita's life, then opened it for others to speak. Their son and a granddaughter each read something that was important to Anita and her life. I hadn't known if I would have the control to say anything. But when it came time I went to the podium and spoke of being the little sister and a couple of memories. My voice was edged with light tears, but basically I did fine. Other cousins got up and spoke as well, including cousin, Jill, whose laugh is infectious and whose open loving nature brings a lightness to every gathering. After the remembrances the pastor brought a message of Anita's faith and a service in keeping with that faith. When he was done he announced the next music - Puff the Magic Dragon. It seems as the grandchildren were growing up and accompanied Anita and Dan on their vacations, they would all sing about Puff.

I was sitting between Mom and Phil with family and ex-family all around. So many of us these days have ex-spouse and ex in-laws who still care. My second ex, who has remained close to Dan and Anita, brought his wife and kids. This time there were no barbs in his statements to me. I was glad that Phil is now my husband. His loving support blesses my life. Mom did okay, taking it like she has the other losses in her life. She has strong faith. This carries her.

At the reception we all visited, kids played in the yard. The weather was warm, pleasant. As I spoke to cousins and other family members and friends, learned where their lives had taken them and some of how they were feeling, I remembered family gatherings when we were young. Now on the edge of old age I was reaffirmed, within, for the choices I made. I was so glad that these choices, that sometimes the family disapproved of, led me to the place I am now, to the future I see opening before me. It gave me a lightness within the loss.

Anita - prior to the service I kept getting the words in my head - "Wear red so I can find you." Red has always been my color. It cheers me up. So I wore red. Maybe it wasn't Anita speaking to me. Maybe it was. But whatever the case, it was Anita's day, and she was very loved.

Vi
What a beautiful good bye. We'll all hold you and your family in our hearts and in our prayers.
I'm glad you wore the red dress.
smile

Thanks, Smile. It was a red tee shirt and a red blazer with jeans. But it was warm, so I removed the blazer. My family wears jeans and tee shirts or whatever they are comfortable in to memorial services. For us it's better than getting all gussied up.

Vi

Sorry for your loss, Vi. I just read this thread and learned of it.

Please know that you and yours are in my heart and prayers. It's wonderful how you could all share and help each other throughout this ordeal.

It's a blessing to share both good and sad times with our loved ones. It makes the bond stronger.

How frail our life is! How important to let them know how much we love them!

You have been so helpful to your family! God bless you and yours!

Hi Vi,
So sorry for your loss. We are all here with you.
Welcome to Boomerwomenspeak its a great group of women as you can already tell.
Like someone said don't be afraid to shed tears in your grief for some of us that's when we start to heal.
Maggie

Songbird and Maggie, thank you. I know I keep saying that as more of you offer your initial and ongoing support. Unfortunately, my words are inadequate for expressing appreciation. But I do thank you, all of you, those who have written and those who are giving silent support.

Yesterday, Dan, my friend, Mary, and I kept a lunch date made a month ago when Anita had just gotten home from the hospital. We'd hoped she would be well enough to keep our monthly luncheon date by then. If she showed up, I was unable to see or hear her. I had thought Dan wouldn't be up to the lunch, but he suggested we keep it, and we went back to Skippers - his favorite seafood place. The four of us had lunch there numerous times. He bought us lunch, and we talked of whatever, each of us very aware that Anita wasn't with us, each of us not mentioning it. It went okay. Dan sent Mary and I home with flower arrangements from the service. He's resumed his morning walks. He's sleeping in his own bed again.

Today, as I painted I thought of it all - my sister's life, what she might be doing now - I mean, sitting around listening to harp music would get boring after a while, don't you think? She has a new beginning. And for her that is good. So do the rest of us, really, and it can be good. It is our choice. It's all about choices.

Vi

Vi, I remember lviing life without Mom shortly after she died. I always tried to focus on her being in heaven. I pictured her hanging out with her parents, siblings, and friends who had gone before her. It was a great comfort.

Try not to think of her being bored. I don't think there is such a thing as boredom in heaven, only happiness forever after.

Also, I couldn't agree more. Life is all about choices and we are in control our of choisces. Therefore we creat our futures. It can be very powerful when we tap into the Holy Spirit and make the choices He intends for us.\

Sending warm thoughts and prayers your way.

Vi, I'm glad you are doing well.

I agree with Dotsie ... I don't think there is boredom in heaven. Nor do I believe we float around on clouds strumming harps. I think there is something exciting awaiting us.

I also picture it as a time of homecoming.

The other thing that comforts me (even after 4 1/2 years I miss my mom so very much) is knowing that she's no longer in pain or suffering. And since she died, she's been joined by my mother-in-law, my step-dad, my aunt, an uncle, and the wonderful pastor who baptized my mom the January before she died. In fact, he whispered to her right before she died that he would be seeing her soon. Little did we know. But there is great rejoicing there and I know I can't be selfish. But still, sometimes I think I hear her calling my name and it's a comfort.

I pray God continues to keep you in His care and comfort those that loved and knew Anita.

Hugs and blessings, Francine

Vi,
I too remember the hours I spent shortly after Daddy died reflecting on the past years of caregiving, my thoughts on where he was, what he was doing, thinking, etc. It was a form of healing too I suppose. I also chose that time to talk to Daddy and basically hand him my grief and ask him for help in dealing with his absence.

I still talk to Daddy almost daily. I've stopped asking him however, to help me find ways to deal with my grief. Seems that time has done that. I think the healing process is within us all, and somewhat natural. We get angry, we get sad, depressed, maybe angry again...I don't know the stages exactly and won't insult you by suggesting you are in one.

I only know that in my heart I feel that thinking about them, wondering what they are doing, how happy they must be, and if they can see or hear me, does wonders for me in coping.

I so hope that you, Dan, and Anita's children can always have a place inside to go to, and wonder.

JJ

Thanks Dotsie, Francine and JJ for sharing your insights and experiences.

I was being facetious about the harps - resorting to a stereotype. I'm sure Anita is not bored. I'm sure she's doing fine and visiting everyone. But even though supposedly there is no time there, still, after a while, just hanging out with loved ones would get boring. Sitting around blissfully doesn't work either.

I was okay with the idea of living blissfully ever-after after my dad died - the hanging out idea. But after my boyfriend,Gary, died, I really got to wondering - what is he doing now...or now...or now. He was such an important part of my daily life, that I wanted to know. So I asked him. He communitcated with my spiritual teacher, Elaine. She shared what he said with me. I had visions and dreams of him in places I'd never seen. Of course, there was no way to verify any of it. That's the way it is with everything, really.

I've studied a lot of religions. Each has it's own belief about what the soul goes through after the body dies. It's fascinating. What comforts me the most is what I learned from a little seagull who so loved to fly. In his story when we passed from this existence we went on to another one where we could learn and grow, and on to another and another and so on. It works for me. But I still want to know what my loved ones are doing now...and now...and now.

The fact that they no longer have to deal with the violence and fear on the planet comforts me. My dad, my sister, my grandparents, friends I've lost over the years, I'm so very grateful that they no longer have to deal with all this stuff.

And I'm glad I'm still here so I still have a chance to make a difference.

Vi

Vi,
It appears that you are dealing with the loss of your sister in a very healthy way. I'm sure you are grieving, but even the grief is beautiful.

I am reminded of a friend whose husband died suddenly. She seemed to deal with it very well. Not that she didn't grieve, she did, but she grieved in a very loving and beautiful way.

When I spoke to her about it, she told me that she was able to deal with the grief because it was not complicated by regret. She discussed some of the loving and joyful events of their life together and how remembering those times helped her deal with the grief knowing she had nothing to regret.

I thought that was so very wise of her and it inspires me still to try to treat people dear to me in such a way as to have nothing to regret should I lose them suddenly.

It helped me so much as I grieved for my Daddy that I spent time having fun with him especially toward what turned out to be the end of his life. Now I have those joyful memories to comfort me as I am sure they are comforting him in heaven.
It must be the same with your sister.
smile

Smile,

Your friend is very wise, as are you. Blessings come in all kinds of ways, and for each I am grateful.

Vi

Vi, I thought of you grieving last night while I was at a funeral home for one of my favorite people in the world. My 93 year old aunt died this week. All she did was love people. She was beautiful. Still thinking of, and praying for you.

Dotsie, I'm so sorry to hear about your loss of your aunt.

We just came from visiting my beloved 82 year old aunt. She's been such a steadfast prayerful person and I'm sure her prayers have helped me survive throughout my life.

She's the last remaining aunt - we lost Mom and all of her brothers and sisters, as well as Dad and all but his one sister within a three year span. So I admit to dreading losing her too, although she's looking forward to "going Home".

Dear Dotsie, my heart is with you during this time of loss. When my favorite aunt died at age 97, it felt like one of my pillars was taken out from under me, and yet she is so a part of who I am - the best part. Blessings and prayers to you and your family.

Eagle Heart, you keep telling us of more and more losses. Dear one, you are in my heart - the place where love resides.

Vi

Today I got an email from someone who says she's okay with death, that it's the agony of life that bothers her. So I began to think about this. Am I okay with death? To be honest no. But it's not fear of death that I'm talking about. And the agony of life...I'm better with that.

First the death thing. It's selfishness, I guess. When someone I care about is gone, I miss them. I miss what they represented in my life too. In the last few years a number of my parents' generation in my family have passed. With their passings, even though I may not have seen them for years, I became aware that I miss what they represented when I was a kid - a safe, kindly place to be. I miss the period when, at least in my world, things were more innocent. I miss the hard working integrity of that generation, something that each subsequent generation seems to lack a little more than the last one. But mostly, I miss being able to go see someone if I want to. I think - they are now gone from this dimension, and this period of learning is over for them. It saddens me - for them. Yet, I know that's okay. I know they are okay. I know I am okay. But there's this void, the place that they used to occupy, and I don't like it.

As for the agony of life - there certainly are a lot of them. And in the middle of all the various agonies, life is very difficult, sometimes wrenching. But after each set of agonies I know I have grown. So for me these things are good.

Then there's the intellectualization of it all. As a writer I do that with everything. This is a good thing in that the process can be enlightening, mentally. But sometimes the over intellectuallization of something makes me miss the point. Sitting with something and not thinking about it can be very good too.

What do you all think about this? I'd like to know.

Vi, you put it so eloquently...the aching void, the agony of absence, the questioning and growing into that "I'm okay". And Julie, I was really struck by your line "there is no one standing between us and mortality. We are next."

I've been traveling through it all because of so many losses lately. I think I've made it safely through, except for the lingering fear of "who's next?" At our age, most are going or on their way out, so more loss is inevitable, but that knowing still brings angst and sadness to my being.

But I'm trying to counter that fear and sadness with a growing sense of responsibility for myself to live each of MY days with abundant joy and meaning. And to love everyone I cherish with respect, compassion and mercy so that their lives are somehow easier and less fraught with agony and angst.

In the end, it really is love that matters, and love that pulls us through, isn't it. It's the love here at BWS that has been helping me to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart, put them back together again and find ways to live with more joy and hope than agony and angst. And it's the healing love I find here that makes me in turn want to companion others through their agony until they too can find some measure of joy and meaning in the midst of that loss and void.

I think that might be one of "the tickets" Vi -- what people represented to us -- like a safe and kindly place to be ---

by learning through the agony of losing a loved one -- realizing what they offered us -- we can "improve" upon ourselves -- and turn around and be that safe and kindly place for the ones coming up behind us ----

thus -- Life comes around full circle

and if we listen -- those very special people will still whisper words of wisdom in our ears

Amen.

lion, beautiful!

Eagle, grieving without regret is so much easier. I'm so glad to hear you've moved in that direction. It's so easy to look back on the life of a loved one who has died and say, "I shoulda, I coulda", but it gets us nowhere.

I am a very strong-willed person. So was Mom. Sometimes we butt heads. Now that she's gone I wish I had been gentler to her, of all people. After all, she loved me unconditionally. This is one of the reasons I am working on my relationships while people are still here on earth. Of all the people in the world, I was hardest on Mom. I guess it's because I knew how deeply she loved me, and I her.

Eagle, after Mom died I started forming a little club (in my mind) of friends whose mom's had also died, or have died since. You are a member of my little club. It's tough losing Mom, isn't it?

Dearest Dotsie, I still wake up crying some mornings because I miss her so much. I think I have been seeing her in my dreams lately, because I always wake up feeling like I've had to leave her again...those seem to be the mornings that I wake up crying inconsolably.

And anytime we talk about her (or Moms in general) here, I end up dissolving in tears. It's taking a long time to get through this grief, but you are helping me immensely because of your own experience and wisdom that you generously share with me.

The whisper that comes softly, the feather touch, the breeze that caresses, the visions, the dreams with more "body" - there are so many ways our departed loved ones come to us, very real ways. As grief clears the veil between us and our loved ones partially dissolves. It is so cool.

Vi

Eagle, do you have siblings to share the load with? I remember sitting in front of the fireplace one night this past winter with my sister. We talked about Mom very openly and honestly for a very long time. It felt so good! It was refreshing to talk about her for so long and really remember the person she was.

Why do we often stop talking about people after they have died? I've been to lots of funerals. One of the pieces of advice this one minister always mentions during the service is for poeple to keep talking about the person who died. He reminds us to call and visit with the family who suffered the loss. He tells us to tell their stories with their loved ones because it's possible they've never heard them.

Whenever we get together, my three brother, three nieces and I always tell Mom and Dad stories. Most of them are funny, tender and wonderful. But my brothers, especially the oldest and the youngest one, are always very quick and adament about reminding me how much Mom deliberately hurt me, emotionally and psychologically, over my entire lifetime, how she was always able to figure out my most vulnerable buttons and push them without mercy until she got the reaction she wanted from me...which then set her up to be the injured party and victim, and me to be the wicked daughter.

So essentially, they've been trying to drill it into me that I was the victim of her mental illness, not that she was the victim of my regrettful behavior (which was defensive and mercilessly provoked almost 99% of the time).

Still, there are some responses that she provoked from me that I wish I hadn't given into. The one that haunts me big-time is slamming the phone down in her ear. There is an ugly story behind that slamming of the phone, but I wish with all my heart now that I had just counted to ten, or "accidentally" disconnected the phone mid-conversation. It was the only time in my life I had ever slammed the phone down on anyone, and to have done it to my Mom has been such a huge source of shame and regret to me, no matter what my brothers say. She had just lost my Dad only months before, and was grappling with her own grief and depression, and for me to have done that, regardless of the provocation from her end, was in my mind, incomprehensibly wrong.

Yes, I know I have to forgive myself. She would want me to. I'm trying. But obviously it's not "taking root", is it!

Have you forgiven your mom? My husband had a similar experience with his grandmother who lived with his family and acted as a tyrannical parent. He said once she was gone, he had to forgive her for all the horrible things she had done to him. After that, he was able to release his anxieties.

People who pass on to the next level can still hear us. Even after they are gone, it is not too late to tell them we care, that we are sorry, that we forgive them.

One day I was walking around my driveway - 8 times is a mile. I thought about my first husband Joe's grandparents, how much I loved them. I was sending love to them. They passed away more than 30 years ago. All at once a face appeared in my mind, the face of Loren, Joe's father. He'd been deceased for 15 years and I hadn't seen his family for longer than that. Loren's face was sad, and he said, as a whisper in my mind, "Forgive me." I said, "For what? There's nothing to forgive." And he said in ways that were not words - For the things that I did to Joe when he was a child that caused your marriage to fail. Loren was an alchoholic and was sometimes violent with Joe. I said, "I forgive you." Loren smiled, and his face faded from my mind. It was beautiful.

Like I said, those who have gone on to the next level can still hear and feel the love in our hearts. Ask for God's help with this, speak to your mom with your heart. She will hear you.

Love,

The emptiness is here today for my sister, for my cat Fleggie who died last fall. Sometimes I wonder how one can be fine with something and not fine at the same time.

Vi

((((( VI )))))

2 am is usually my worst time too

i havent found an answer to the roller coaster of emotions yet - my head says it's okay - but my heart weaps

remember that she is still with you -- sit quietly and listen for her voice - wait to feel her hug -- dont allow the emptiness to keep her from you --

and know you arent alone

carolyn

Carolyn, thanks for your encouragement. I have felt Anita off and on lately. You're right, the emptiness feeling can put up barriers. This has happened with others who passed, and as the grief lessened I was better able to feel their presence. When I needed the assurance most, I was standing in the way of it. Sometimes I've worried that maybe the person can now read my thoughts, and what if all of those thoughts aren't exactly diplomatic. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not a loved one I care so much about. And yet...to grieve it would not be good for me to block those thoughts. All of them need to come out, so I can release them. But lately, even with those kinds of thoughts, I've known she is with me.

Thank you, Eagle Heart, for your ongoing thoughts and prayers. It has been my experience that no one can fill up that empty spot. No one can replace another. Each has a unique niche. And, yes, it is both a blessing and a source of distress.

Love to you all,
Vi

Vi - I'm not sure every word we say or all our thoughts are actually "heard" by those gone before us -- I think that power is reserved for God but I do think that our "mood" is picked up on and responded to -- like when we really need to feel their presence

or perhaps they are always around and it's US that picks up on THEM ????

For every one of "those" thoughts that we feel a bit guilty about thinking -- just remember that they had the same thoughts.

Sisters are allowed not to see eye to eye over everything -- you just add to your heartbreak by worrying about something like that -- say what you need to say -- out loud to her -- yell at her like you would have a year ago or tell her your sorry -- which ever the case may be and then do like you did when she was physically here -- forget it --

and then love her and enjoy her company

Vi, you don't have to worry about hurting anyone. There is no pain in heaven. Only sweet bliss. Imagine it. Can you? You are dear to consider her feelings at this stage of the game.

Lion, you are SO wise! Lovely response.

Thanks, Lion and Dotsie, for your reassurances. As a writer, or maybe I should say a participant observer, my mind goes to lots of places, i.e. I entertain all kinds of possibilities, some of them valid, some of them off the wall, some verifiable, some impossible to verify on this level. So, I consider all the things I do and how all these will impact others wherever they are. Love is, love does, love heals, lover never harms another soul in anyway...if it can avoid it...for the highest good.

Vi

Amen!

Vi -

I sure do relate to your entertaining all sorts of possibilities -- just shows how creative you are ;-)

You have to keep wondering about life, love, and death -- or you might miss something reallllly special --

He walks alone now.

He returned to the mall where he and Anita walked before she became too sick - morning walks before the stores opened. He walks with, yet not with, the others who also come to stave off infirmity. After the walks he stops for breakfast . . . so he won't have to cook. He did so much of that for her, for her special needs. He doesn't cook for himself much now. His former daughter-in-law, a gourmet cook, brings dinners and treats.

He returns to an empty house. He senses Anita with him. Tears touch his eyes when he talks about it. His pain is evident, but he does not display it. He is a man who has always kept this kind of thing to himself. His children and grandchildren invite him over, to help keep him busy, to show their love, to comfort themselves. But he is alone when he goes home.

He keeps the house very clean, because she did. He does many things because she did, because they did them together. His son stops by mornings sometimes to spend time with him, goes with him to seek out areas for the fall hunting season. His daughter and son-in-law search for property with him, so he can purchase land for a permanent camping site. Overcrowding is such a problem; it is hard to find a place these days. He and Anita and the family loved to camp - to enjoy nature and each other. Soon he, his daughter and son-in-law will take the trailer to the ocean and spend time beachcombing, like Anita loved to do.

Yes, Dan walks alone now. And it is hard to see him in such pain.

Thank you Dotsie and Lionspaaw for your words and the love behind them.

What a terribly touching telling of Dan's life as it is in this moment in time Vi. I can't help but think that he truly doesn't walk alone though - I'm sure Anita is right there with him....I also am sure he feels the love of you and his family and while it doesn't take the pain away, I know that it helps.

I know you are right, Pam. He knows it too. But when a loved one no longer has skin you can touch, the one who was part of your 24 hour day, when they are in another dimension, it feels like you are walking alone. The heaviness in the heart is close to unbearable. I see that in his eyes. And I remember how it was for me after Gary died...only Anita been part of his life for so much longer.

May the Good Lord bless and keep him, and everyone who is now experiencing this kind of pain, and remind him/them that the relief of time is on it's way.

Love to you,
Vi

Vi, your post about your brother-in-law is beautiful. It reminded me of my dad after Mom's passing.

We do all we can to help those that mourn, but unless you are that person we can't grasp the severity of isolation they must feel when unlocking the door to an empty home. I'm sure you're a refreshing spirit for him to connect with because you have shared about the loss of a past love in your life. Keep blessing him.

Thanks, Dotsie, for your sentiments, your ongoing kindness.

Anita died a month ago today. I remember after Gary died, for years I was aware of the day he died on the monthly-versary of that day and the exact time, what I was thinking and feeling. At first it was very intense. So I send Dan an e-card. Which seems so inadequate. I know this is part of his growth. Loss is all about growth for the ones who remain behind.

Yes, blessings - a very good thing.

Vi

Vi, what a beautiful message and so well written. It's very powerful.

I have a question for those who have lost a spouse. How do you get through it? How can you live with the pain? What kept you going? I guess it's this aging thing when we start thinking about it more often.

Vi, your continued journey from your first post about Anita to your continuation a month after her passing is touching. My best to you and her dear husband, Dan.

Dianne, You have posted some interesting questions. I am still in contact with Linda(who lost her spouse in November.) I think it is still to early to ask her outright, but I just might mention your post. If she offers any feedback, I will ask her if I can use it in my reply.

chick

Dianne, thanks for your words about my posting. I'm grateful.

Although Gary and I were not married, at the time we were both burned out on marriage. It was something neither of us wanted. However, we were just as committed to each other as if we had been married.

The way one makes it, is a day, a minute, and hour at a time. Ten minutes can seem like an eternity, because the person is not there, in the physical sense. I sat and cried a lot. I moped a lot. I walked until I was so tired I barely had enough energy to get back home. I reexamined my spiritual beliefs. I talked aloud to God, and all my words weren't nice. I nearly killed myself. Most of my friends pulled away. I read books on the subject of loss. I went to a support group offered by a woman, Kelly Osmond, MSW, who lost her son when he was twenty. She and I had the same prof in college. He told me about a book she had written about the loss of her son and her group. I made friends at the group with those who were going through intense losses of their own, though none of them were their lifemates. It took a long time for me to be okay.

Basically, I can say it was hell, but it helped me grow into a kinder more loving, more compassionate person, a person who is open to spiriutal possiblities I considered implausible before his death. For all this I am grateful. I love who I am now...even though I still have a lot to learn.

When it comes time, you will make it through. And with the support of the women here at Boomers, it will be easier.

Chick - thanks for your support, for saying my experience has touched you. It helps.

Love and blessings,
Vi

Vi, isn't it inspiring to experience the light after darkness? I am grateful for the dark time I lived through, though it was hell on earth at the time. I never would have guessed that I would thank God for that period of time. I believe God uses those times to strengthen our compassion and sympathy towards others when they suffer.

Dotsie,

Yes, it's inspiring. I thank God there is a benefit to this form of hell. Otherwise it would be totally unacceptable.

Sometimes I wonder if I hold onto the grief longer than I need to out of loyalty to the one(s)I have lost. Sometimes if I catch myself not thinking about them, I bring thoughts of them back, which, of course, reinforces the loss and the heartache. There are so many variations, so many paths for so many reasons, some of them known to us, some of them not, that grief can take.

Vi

Vi, you mentioned loyalty. Just this morning I was thinking about when was the last time I visited the cemetery. My thought was...I SHOULD get there again soon. Definitely a thought of loyalty. How funny you should mention that.

I agree, that sense of loyalty DOES seem to play a part in extending the grief. I was like that with Dad. I'd feel so guilty after realizing that it had been days (then weeks) since I had last thought of him. But then one day I realized it had to be that way or I'd never heal and never get myself back out of that hellhole.

My grief with Mom is entirely different. It's full of regret and conflict between loyalty to her as the wonderful, generous woman that she was, and the need to know the truth of our relationship. There was serious damage done, but I don't want to face it because it seems disloyal to her. I want to "let those sleeping dogs lie" and just move on because I don't want to sully her memory in any way. And yet, it's like a toothache that your tongue can't keep away from. I want the truth, but not at the expense of damaging my Mom's reputation. But more than anything, I want it not to matter so much so I can just move on.

[ July 20, 2005, 11:32 AM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Visiting a grave has always made me very sad. For this reason, I've asked to be cremated and just spread my ashes in beautiful TN or...Neiman Marcus Shoe Department. Seriously though, I can't visit graves. I just stand there and cry and I don't want that to happen to my kids when I'm gone.

I have the same problem, Dianne. Or open-casket viewings. Especially of people I love. It breaks my heart to see them lying there like that. I prefer to remember them with vitality and sparkles in their eyes, but after I've seen a body laid out, that's the image that stays in my head. It can take me months to get past that image and back to my memories of what they REALLY looked like when I knew and loved them.

Am I the only one who has trouble getting rid of such vivid images in my head?! Once I've seen a graphic image of something, it takes so much work to get it out of my mind. It keeps replaying itself over and over again, despite every effort to fill my mind with God and flowers and other beautiful thoughts. Which is why I have to be very careful what toxic stuff I put into my brain.

I'm the same way. Things from years ago still haunt me. It's so frustrating. I constantly recall my aunt's passing and have to shove it out of my mind. I have the tendency to self-abuse in this area. Pull up old, dumb things that happened 100 years ago and lament over them. It's just so dumb.

Dotsie and Eagle Heart - thank you for responding regarding my feelings about loyalty. It draws us together, makes each of us feel less isolated on our journey. Eagle Heart, my heart is with your regarding your issues with your mother. The fact that she was so unkind to you, makes it harder to reconcile. I've come to believe that there is nothing more important than kindness.

Seeing someone in a casket used to bother me. I remember when my grandmother died at age 69. I was 16. At the funeral I remember her sister, Lola, touching Grandma's hand, saying, "Oh, Mabel, Mabel" Aunt Lola had tears in her eyes. That was 40 years ago. I've been to so many funerals of close loved ones since. I was with Gary when he took his last breath. Later at the funeral home I needed to be alone with him in the viewing room. I needed to slip my hand inside his shirt and touch his skin, to feel the surgery incision. I needed to infuse this into my mind so I could accept that he was dead, really dead.

I was there an hour after my sister died. She was just laying there on the couch, her mouth hanging open. It was different, but I realized this is how it used to be when there was a death. People came to the family home and viewed the body. I still see her in my mind, it will probably always be with me, but it seems natural to me now. I'm not haunted by it.

I think being with Gary at the end and working all that through changed things dramatically for me. That change is a good one. With the gravesite - Gary was buried in a military cemetery. It was free. After his death I went and sat with him several times. But he wasn't there. It didn't comfort me to be there nor did it bother me. I could as easily talk to him anywhere else.

Maybe the acceptance of the gravesite thing is because my father's family has a family cemetery. The first funerals and burials I attended were at the family cemetery. It was just a small place, no fancy markers. But the last physical remnants of their earthly lives seemed to belong there. My father was not buried there. This does not bother me either. He does not live in a box in the ground. He is free and happy.

I think this culture has changed so much in so many ways so very quickly that we now miss the belonging - that we are part of our ancestors in this way too.

What I learned from a raccoon.

Today the old raccoon, Missy, came again to the back door. When we first met her years ago, she was old, tired-looking, a piece of her ear and part of her tail was missing. No longer the reigning matriarch, she watches nervously now for another raccoon, the one who must have defeated her sometime during the winter. After raccoons attacked our old cat, Fleggy, last fall we stopped feeding them. Missy was not part of the attack force. She and Fleggy got along, respected each other's ways, each other's space. Still to stop the group of over eighteen from coming around and threatening all three of our kitties, we had to stop feeding them. Unfortunately neighbors shoot raccoons around here for robbing chicken houses. When Missy showed up this spring, she looked elderly, no longer agile. Even more of her tail was missing, and she wore the defeat of age. This year for the first time she has no litter. Only last year she was vigilant, watchful, in charge.

This morning my husband, Phil, said, "I think this will be Missy's last year."

I said, "She probably won't make it through the winter."

"She may not even make it through the summer," he said.

Always while she eats now I sit watch for her. Perched in an easy chair back next to the sliding glass door I comb the deck and the hillside to make sure no one comes and attacks her for the food. These days there are only two other adult raccoons who show up. One has three kits, the other has one. Usually after Missy eats she hobbles to her favorite spot behind a small stump next to some ferns, cleans herself and sleeps for a while. Today she curled up on the ramp to the deck, nestling her nose to her feet and tail. Two times she roused herself and ate again, cleaned herself and went back to the ramp to sleep. Eventually she climbed under the deck and wandered away.

Missy movements have slowed down. She is obviously achy. Life is difficult for her now. I thought of how she resembles my 86-year-old mother. My husband and I shop for her food. We and some lovely people from Mom's church clean house for Mom. She sits most days and watches television - whatever is on. Her arthritis hurts too bad for her to do anything else, even with pain killers. The difference between Mom and Missy is that Missy has no pain medication. She does not have a safe place to be. One day soon she will wander off and die, or she will snuggle into her den, go to sleep and not wake up or be attack by another animal and die as a result.

It reminds me of how hard it is for so many on this planet. That the reality, of this place we've come to learn and grow, is that life for all living beings is difficult. For me Missy has become a case in point on how important extending kindness is/will be as the population continues to soar and the competition for resources escalates. Instead of fighting each other, instead of yelling at others on the freeway, instead of rushing to get the last parking place, instead of saying mine, mine, mine, it's important we learn that what happens to one happens to us all. As we reach up and learn the meaning of kindness and extend it - we become. And when death comes, as it did for my sister, as it has for our mothers, our fathers, our lifemates, our children, it becomes a transition into beauty and freedom.

Absolutely beautifully said Vi. Also I had to smile at your story of Missy (reminded me of that cat I told you about in my email...Toby.....).

As for viewings at funerals, I've had one "positive" experience - that with my Dad. He had been sick for so long - gaunt and tired looking...but my last look at him was in his Air Force uniform with his mustache trimmed - so handsome and YOUNGER looking for some reason. When I slipped the yellow rose (his favorite) into his hands I really thought he'd never looked better and THAT's the memory of him I have held onto not the "sick" Dad. Other experiences were not so positive...

Still I remind myself each time that the spirit is no longer there - it's just the shell.....the spirit is FREE at last.

Vi, that was so rich and wise...thank you for sharing that. It's important to remember to put our individual daily lives into perspective...we're truly all in this together. Learning, transitioning, teaching, living, loving, yearning...no one of us is alone in whatever pain or angst we're going through. The ripples of our choices and behaviours ripple out so much further than we can imagine. Which makes kindness a vital key to bridging our differences, which too often foster friction and hatred instead of celebration and respect.

Vi, it has been such an honour to be allowed to companion you on this journey that you've been making in this thread. It has been a rare and enriching experience being here with you.

[ July 21, 2005, 08:12 PM: Message edited by: Eagle Heart ]

Thank you, Pam. How wonderful that your last image of your dad in his uniform is so positive. I remember your dear sweet Toby - you were his guardian angel.

Thank you, Eagle Heart, for sharing this part of my life. You have taught me so much about the various manifestations of grief. You have reinforced for me that there is no one right way to grieve. You, too, have blessed me.

Vi, weird. I have been journaling about this kindness you are speaking of except I refer to it as love. I am learning that life is love, and the more we love, the more we are loved. Also figuring out at age 47 that I'd rather belong the the human race than the rat race. I wish I could have learned sooner.

I appreciate this thread more than you know. Everyone is bringing something different to the conversation and it's so rich. Thanks.

Dotsie, thanks so much. I never had any idea when I started posting this stuff about my sister, that this thread would turn into something so beautiful. You're right, everyone is bringing something wonderful, something that seems magical to it. It's a blessing, a true blessing.

The reason I use the word kindness instead of love is because the word love carries many connotations, some misconceptions. So many people have been hurt by someone who claimed to love them. In my opinion the word kindness does not have the potential for the same kind of negative load.

A little kindness from person to person is better than a vast love for all humankind. Richard Dehmel

very good point Vi

Eagle Heart - I used to believe that it mattered -until one day I realized that it was keeping me stuck in a dark world. I've been asked, more than I care to count, what happened that caused my split -- and I tell them the same thing -- I don't care anymore -- all I care about is that i've been "validated" and it's time to move on. Being abused as a child is horrible --but the bottom line is -- we aren't children anymore -- and you have a choice to continue to live your life under that cloud or let it go. I don't know what happened between you and your mom - but she's gone now and there's nothing you can do about it - maybe it's time you close that chapter and start a new one -- as an adult -- remember what feels good about childhood and let the rest slide -- and you know what -- YES -- IT CAN BE -- JUST THAT SIMPLE but please let me say -- that I DO understand what you're going thru -- I don't mean to minimize it in any way !!! it's just that at some point in our lives we have to just ----- let it go ----- for your own sanity

Dianne - I used to work at a funeral home/cemetery. I drove in every morning and said good morning to everyone and liked to walk around the grounds to read the names out loud -- some of these people had been buried there since the late 1800's and I had to wonder if the generations of family since they died even knew they were there anymore -- so by acknowledging them -- I felt that they were still "important" somehow -- that someone still remembered that their life was full and important to someone at one time.

I dont care for funerals however -- as Pam says - its just the shell laying there and I feel closer to the person outside -- asking God's angels to help them adjust to their new surroundings

Dotsie -- I prefer to be a part of the HUMAN race instead of the rat race myself -- though I'm afraid we may be in the minority

Vi -- so many times I've started to respond to one of your posts and I sit there and say ???? what more can I say ???? she's said it all and so much more eloquently than I could have but I want you to know that I too appreciate this thread and your sharing with us your journey --

Dotise, I loved what you said about being a part of the Human race rather than the rat race. And Lion, your words are so important. We all have sadnesses and even terror in our past, but we have to just walk through it then walk on. To stay there only empowers the negative in our lives.

quote:

---

Originally posted by Vi:
A little kindness from person to person is better than a vast love for all humankind. Richard Dehmel

---

And Vi, I love your quote. Love does include both the bad and the good and it's still a powerful word, but it is so overused sometimes I fear it will become nothing but a meaningless cliche.'

Another truism I have heard, and I don't know who said it, is "Being nice is not always being kind." Sometimes it seems as if we are more focused on being nice in order to be accepted than on being kind in order to help. Almost always the truth is kinder than the nicest words.

Thanks ladies for making me think.
smile

lion, I believe that is exactly what God wants us to do. He wants us to shed the old self and put on the new self. He makes all things brand new. Amazing when we listen and choose His ways instead of our own. A daily prayer of mine is:

More You
Less me

Some people find it hard to believe that we aren't supposed to be like ourselves because they are so in love with themselves, or think they are all it and have it all together. Unfortunately, this isn't how God wants us to live. He wants us to deny ourselves and follow Jesus.

I don't mean to sound preachy, it's what I believe and it works for me when I have the mindset to live like that.

Smile, I've never thought about being nice meaning not always being kind. I agree. I like that.

Thanks for imparting your wisdom ladies. YOu're all great. Ienjoy grasping new thoughts about faith, life, and death.

Lionspaw, thank you for the affirmations. I agree with all that you said about the need to move on from sources and places of pain. Those who hurt us need not have power over us anymore. I, too, allowed those things and persons who had caused me pain and despair to control me. And finally, I thought, I'm tired of feeling like this. I'm sick of being miserable. I can spend the rest of my life being miserable, or I can find ways to climb out of the toilet I'm living in. Yes, it is as simple as that - simple but not necessarily easy.

Smile, I love "Being nice is not always being kind." I never heard it said that way before, but it is true. Sometimes being nice is just good manners, when the person is thinking or implying something else. Being kind sometimes doesn't always sound kind. Sometimes a lie is required if one is being "nice." Being kind never requires a lie. In the long run lies are counterproductive to the liar and the liee.

During my search for ways out of my toilet I explored many theologies. In each I studied, there was validity, underlying truths, beauty. The followers, of Buddha, Krishna, Jesus, Mohamed and so many other wise ones, have found what they need in these men's teachings. There's a wonderful book by Huston Smith, The World's Religions. It is very enlightening. He brings respect and honor to the subject. His parents were Methodist missionaries. Each seeker finds enlightenment in the ways that are right for her/his heart.

There is oh so much validity in the words of a writer called Shakespeare - This above all: to thine own self be true.

There is beauty in each of us already, waiting for us to acknowledge it. It is unnecessary to look to anyone else. The answers we seek are not in the mountains; they are not in the desert; they are not at the ocean; they are not in a building. We are each connected to All-That-Is - the essence of the Universe - what some call God. There are so many paths winding their way to this place that is not a place at all. It is within. To look externally is to miss a profound blessing. All that we need is available to us right here, right now in a way/ways that are right for each of us. My way doesn't have to be the same as your way, for it to be right for me. Your way doesn't have to be the same as my way, for it to be right for you. Respecting, allowing for the difference, is the key to peace. It has always been so. And if you remember this was my reason for starting this thread in the first place - that my sister had the right to choose her own way of dying, and we have the right to choose our own way of living. This is a wonderful thing.

Much love, much kindness,
Vi

Today, I took Mom for her quarterly visit to the doctor. I made sure my sister's name had been removed from the person to contact in case of emergency list. I didn't want Dan to receive a call asking for Anita and have it hit him hard. Then I took Mom grocery shopping, or rather I shopped for her at Walmart, while she sat in the McDonalds part of it. Walking very far is too difficult for her now. Back at Mom's house Phil, my husband, was housecleaning and setting up Mom's new computer in hopes that she can develop Internet skills, and this will take her mind off of her pain and improve her memory. She had said she wanted a computer and wanted to surf the Net. She told me this repeatedly. So when we got back to the house, he gave her lessons. She wasn't much interested. Phil had spent 3 days preparing the computer so it would be simple for her to use. It was frustrating for both Phil and I.

Basically the day was a affirmation that neither my sister nor my brother(he's in jail) is available to help with Mom. Not a problem except for the things that have always irritated me about my mother - her learned incompetence as a form of manipulation is always there. And it bugs me. I love her, but . . . That's how I'm feeling today.

Dan dropped by today for the first time since Anita died. I think it's been over a year since the two of them were here - she'd been too sick to visit. He and his kids and their spouses had gone early this morning to the river, not far from here.

So Phil, Dan and I sat in the living room and talked. We didn't mention Anita. Even though I've had all this training on how to talk to people about this kind of thing, training is irrelevant at times. It's kind of go by what feels right. So we talked of Mom and caring for her and my frustrations, and about what Dan has been doing. I showed him my latest painting of my husband when he was a young hunk, and a variety of other things. We are both glad he is getting out and doing things. He is taking his travel trailer to the beach this week for the first time with out her. His daughter and son-in-law will join him for a day. One of his granddaughters be there for a weekend. But other than that he will be alone.

It still seems so odd that she's gone. Odd is the operative word. One can think these things over and over, and I know in time it sets in. But there it is. Odd.

The reality of our world was different for Anita in some ways, I think. She accepted it. But her way of seeing things was old school, as a teenager during the 50s. So in many ways I am glad she doesn't have to be here with all the violence and unrest.

She is in loving place now. I'm pleased for her. And Dan will make it somehow...like we all do when we experience loss. Love of others helps.

Vi

It does sound as if Dan has lots of love in his life, and although it doesn't help now, I can honestly say that while time doesn't remove the pain entirely, the edges do soften. That's what I wish for him, and for you. To have softer edges.

Sending warm thoughts to Dan and to you.

JJ

JJ - I think you put that perfectly - things soften with time --

Vi - if you could find some support sites for your mom on the net -- maybe she would start to get interested in her computer. It is very frustrating to try to help someone when they don't seem to accept the help -- but you may be surprised what she does when no one is around -- especially if she has a few sites in her "favorites" so she can just "click" on them. Be patient with her -- even though she may not treat you this way -- you're the child she's depending on right now.

I feel soooooo bad for Dan -- and the rest of you of course, but losing a mate -- as you know -- is different -- in the way that no one else is going through the same emotions. You can relate with your brothers/sisters about the loss of a brother/sister -- or parents can relate to the loss of a child -- kids to a parent -- but a spouse is all alone with that feeling -- there was only one spouse -- you share every aspect of your life with your spouse -- and it leaves such an emptiness when one leaves and one stays behind.

You're so right about the training going out the window sometimes -- but I think you did exactly what you should have -- you were there and you made him feel comfortable and he was able to just "share" for a little bit that day -- I'm sure you were a great comfort for him.

and hopefully -- with you thinking about your mom and Dan -- and knowing you're "doing something" it will help ease your pain a little too

(((((((((( hugs ))))))))))

JJ, yes, softened edges would be good. I know it will come. Mostly I'm okay. I feel so bad for Dan. For me it's a matter of how my world has changed, not that I can't stand the pain. It's the honor and integrity a whole generation represented, that is being lost. My sister was not of that generation, but she held on to some of its basic tenets. In the last 5 years so many of my parents generatons have died.

Lionspaaw,yes, once we can get Mom onto the Net it should help. First we have to make her computer literate. The other day we were showing her how she had to hold the mouse for it to work right. She just didn't get it. So the next time we go down, there will be more basic lessons. She had my old computer years ago, but she's forgotten everything she knew. Part of it is mild dementia. Part of it is selective, convenient amnesia. It's my job to distinguish the difference. If I do everything for her, it will make her less able to do for herself. She does not want to live with me. She does not want to go into a home. So my goal is to keep her at home as long as I can. She has good people at her church who also help her. I'm grateful to them. She was a good mother to me. I love her. I will make sure her needs are met as best I can.

Yes, Dan is alone with the pain. I remember how it was...but for him the time he spent with Anita was his entire adult life. He has to learn how to be alone and be okay with it. I think that's the worst of it for me, knowing there's so little I can do to help him. I can't wave a wand and make him all better. The thing is, I've always wanted to fix everybody. And I just can't. That's part of my frustration - part of what I have to learn.

When there are losses like this with my family and loved ones, it brings the world situation front and center. I think about the people who are out there killing people on purpose, causing others to experience this kind of loss and pain on purpose. It reinforces the reason for my life - to promote kindness and peace.

Do any of you know about a woman who went by the name of Peace Pilgrim? Her name was Mildred Norman. She gave up her way of life, and all of her possesions and walked back and forth across this country promoting peace, first inner, then outer. Wonderful woman. In my book she deserves the same kind of respect for her life's work as Martin Luther King. Peace Pilgrim did what she did in a more humble kind of way. Love the woman, although by the time I heard of her, she was already deceased. A website set up by Friends of Peace Pilgrim is: http://www.peacepilgrim.org/

Thanks again for all your support.
Vi

Dan and the Bear

For the first time Dan took his travel trailer to his and Anita's favorite camping site at the beach. He spent his time walking next to the water, 5-6 miles a day, laying on his belly in the sand gathering agates, making peace with the place the two of them had loved so much. On the weekend his granddaughter and her two small children joined them.

One day he was walking on a trail. Suddenly 50 feet in front of him was an adult black bear on all fours. He looked at the bear, and the bear looked at him. Dan asssesed the situation, looking around for cubs - nothing like an angry mamma bear. He didn't spot any. Thinking the bear needed the trail more than he did, he did not panic, he just backed away and took another route.

On the trail of his life with Anita, Dan found a bear on the trail. He did not panic. He assesed the situation and did what he could. When he realized Anita needed the trail ahead, unable to walk forward with her, he took another route. He is surviving. God bless him.

Vi

You have a beautiful way with words and your thoughts are awesome and healing. I appreciate your peaceful mind. You're a blessing.

Last year, my cousin was on his way to say good bye to my uncle, his father, who was dying, when he suddenly started screaming and clutching his stomach. His wife had to take over the driving and find the nearest hospital. It was pancreatis (sp) so they put him in a drug induced coma, trying to heal him. My uncle was supposed to die within days but for some reason hung on for five more months. They both died in the same week. How my aunt got through this is beyond me. Losing her husband and son in the same week. 1200 people came to my cousin's funeral. Unbelievable. He was so well loved. And 500 came to my uncle's funeral. It seemed to help the entire family knowing they had made an impact on so many people.

[ August 13, 2005, 10:40 AM: Message edited by: Dianne ]

Vi, you need to write a book of reflections of sickness and death. Your perspective is amazing.

I've thought of you. My sister is away on a ten day vacation and I miss her so much. We talk daily when she's in town. This is probably a sick thought, but I've wondered what I'd do if she wasn't around at all. I think I'd need a page out of your book. How are you managing your grief? Please share.

Dianne, I don't know how people get through multiple losses, except maybe to go numb for a while. Then thaw out a little at a time when they are better able to deal with it. It does help to have lots of people come to a service. When I was sixteen a girlfriend, Denise, died suddenly in a diabetic coma. No one knew she was diabetic. 3 people besides her grandparents came to the grave side service. I was one of them. Denise was probably the sweetest person I've ever met. Yet, her father had beaten her. That's why she was staying with her grandparents. She had had polio, so one arm just hung there. She taught me about smiles. She had a wonderful smile. The world was a lesser place without her.

Dotsie and Dianne, thank you for your words about my ability to express myself. Dotsie, since you mentioned me writing a book about reflections on sickness and death, I've been thinking about it, wondering what I could possibly add to the body of wonderful work that is already out there, written by people much more qualified than I. Then I got to thinking about the fact that I will be finished with the current novel I'm writing by Jan. 2006. After that I plan to start what I call my old lady story/novel. This would be an excellent book to incorporate insights on illness and death. Because if one lives to be very old, one can't avoid dealing with ongoing multiple losses. So that's what I will do. I prefer writing novels, because in novels one can give one's opinion, but it's not so in your face. I mean, the writer is not saying, this is the truth according me. The author is saying, here's a story, I hope you enjoy it.

As for the grief - I'm okay, I guess. I've been seeing my sister's face in my mind, not of her in her older years, but when she was a teenager. Her freckle-face smile, her wavy auburn hair with the pageboy haircut and short bangs. I've been thinking I will never get to take her Nashville and the Grand Old Opry like I wanted to do when my books become bestsellers. She so wanted to go someday. And I've been thinking that she and I will never be little old ladies together. I will probably live to be very old. A lot of people in my family do. I may have 30 to 40 years without her. My aunt Lottie lived 40 years without her older sister, Mabel, my grandmother. Oh, I understand why. Aunt Lottie took far better care of herself on all kinds of levels. But that meant she lived all those years without her older sister.

There is so much to learn on the many facets of this gem we call death. I think about how much each person teaches another with their life and their death. We teach each other, even when that was not our conscious intention. And I love learning it, I do. It makes me a nicer person. And in the long run, I so like what I have learned/am learning and who I have become. But I hate it, too, not hate in the sense that there is anyone or thing to despise, but hate in the sense of, I sure don't like the pain and the loss and the rearrangement of my life.

So how am I really? The loss is there, and it is more fodder for the writer in me. All in all, it is a good thing - which is what it was design to be or so it seems to me.

Vi

I am so amazed at the wonderful truths and words of comfort here in this thread.

I've been away for a while ... partially because our internet costs really skyrocketed, partially because of some healing I was experiencing, and partially because of some technical problems (now resolved, Dotsie, lol).

All these words and expressions of love and compassion are such a comfort and so validating for some of the healing I've been experiencing lately.

Vi ... I totally agree with Dotsie ... your words are so touching and so REAL. Others would be so blessed by the things you are learning and how you are expressing them.

I've come to realize one thing over these past weeks ... when we take the focus off ourselves, we tend to learn the most. For me, it means putting my focus on God. He's doing some remarkable things in my life and I can only be thankful for what I'm learning.

You ladies have some of the most powerful messages I've read ... and the wonder of it all is that THIS IS REAL here ... in these forums and on this website. I guess I've gotten so dissatisfied with the roles people try to play rather than just being themselves. And the irony (that might not be a good word) is that I too am coming to the realization that I can let go of my abuse and move on. I don't need to examine it in order to figure out what I "thought" was wrong with me.

Instead, I can look outward for a change and find a garden of beauty ... most specifically here on this site.

Thank you. And Vi -- you are an awesome inspiration. Thank you for making yourself vulnerable to us.

Blessings, Francine

Dear Francine,

I'm so glad you've decided to let go of/move on from the negative effects of the abuse. That's a big step. I'm so pleased for you. Yea!!!

As for being real and people being in roles and hiding behind masks, when my brother murdered his neighbors I realized I had no energy to maintain a mask. I was just who I was and if somebody didn't like me, they could go somewhere else. I realized that so much time is wasted, when we are responding to what someone wants us to think, rather than what is real. No wonder we have difficulties fixing things or ourselves.

My love is with you as you walk the road to recovery.

Vi

I find myself in a stage of licking my wounds. Not that the pain is bad or anything. I'm not in the mood to contact my family unless I have to - I will provide for Mom, though. I just want to sit with my own adjustment. To do otherwise at this time makes me feel annoyed, even though just to say that makes me feel selfish. But I'm being honest. This is about honesty for me.

Vi, I can relate so well to that "licking my wounds" description. And to not wanting to contact anyone...needing alone time to get used to that new empty space within me. It was like a toothache that the tongue can't stop touching, I had to explore all the nuances of my anguish, sit in my orphanhood and figure out how to carry on from here.

I think it's a normal facet of grief for some of us "profound feelers" to retreat for awhile. A necessary hibernation in order to come to terms with our new emptiness. My grief may have gone beyond normal, but my grief was exacerbated by work-related burnout and subsequent spiral into depression.