Our Story

For several years Bill and I had planned to move closer to our son’s family when we retired.  We owned a home nearby and remodeling was first up.  Bill is a general contractor, cabinet maker, ultimate handy man — this project was his baby.  He retired first and so began to draw, measure, collaborate with experts, and make many trips north to begin work.  Then I retired and, in September, we made trips together, “camping” in the back bedroom during the demolition days.  We were so happy about the prospect of retired life in a beautiful town, building a new life together with our family.

 

As the weeks passed I noticed that Bill wasn’t as happy or energetic about this work as we both expected.  It seemed he did more resting than working.  I am so sorry now that I complained about his lack of enthusiasm.  He blamed it on age, his back, and probably more.  I reminded him he wasn’t that old (65) and the work would build muscle.  How were we to ever finish the project if we couldn’t redeem the few hours per visit?  I often told myself that timing is always in God’s hands.

 

By November, Bill had lost over 40 pounds.  It became apparent, that the remodel project was not to happen, at least by his hand and in any time soon.  On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving he came home from a game of golf with our boys and collapsed on the loveseat in our bedroom.  He was absolutely spent.  What was happening?

 

We scheduled a visit to Bill’s primary care doctor.  Upon a routine exam, the doctor found nothing alarming, ordered a few tests, and told him to eat cheeseburgers and milkshakes.  Bill submitted to negative test after negative test.  We put him on a high calorie diet.  We walked the hallway together for exercise.  It was grueling.  The regiment wasn’t working.  We watched Bill grow weaker.  From the front porch he waved a wobbly hand to our kids and me as we pulled away to attend the Christmas morning service.

 

In January, we became desperate logging every meal, every activity, and every sign of decline to report to anyone for medical advice.  But, we could not get the attention of doctors.  No one knew what to do for him, didn’t seem to want to tackle the problem.  We were left to ourselves.

 

Until one morning when, in our usual chairs, I cried out to God with more fervor than I have ever cried to Him before.  “This is the day, Lord God.  Today, You must rescue us.  Today, You have to show us what to do.  We need you NOW!  Help us!”

 

Maybe 30 minutes after that prayer time, our son, Jeffrey called.  He knew and had spoken to a former UC Davis hospital administrator who recognized Bill’s symptoms and gave Jeffrey instructions for us, urging us to act immediately.  So, I packed a quick bag for both of us and drove the hour in rain to try to get Bill admitted to a prestigious hospital where no one can be admitted without a referral.  We had no referral.  We had no medical records.  We had no real information.  We had nothing but a plan… and God.

 

Bill lived in the emergency cubicle of the hospital for 3 days and then was finally admitted.  The grateful heart I had for that answered prayer, boosts my faith every time I recall it.  Over the next 2 weeks he endured the most horrendous (considering his condition) round-the-clock tests, met many doctors, and received excellent, kind care.  The attending staff was stumped.  Bill was an anomaly.  The puzzle pieces were missing.  In the end, the first test and subsequent hypothesis, proved to be the correct one.  Bill had an acute form of a neurological disease for which there is no cure – Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, otherwise known as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s Disease.  Our son, Jordan stood beside us as the news was delivered.  He caught me, held me, comforted his dad and moved us forward inch by inch.

 

Devastated, but not without peace, Bill and I and our family prayed for courage and help.  We began a journey of trust.  Just 2 days after the diagnosis, the journey took us back home to spend our days on hospice care.  Our sons met us there, met our nurse, and made practical arrangements before they left again to their own homes.  Bill and I determined to cling to our God and each other and handle each day as a gift.  We didn’t know then, but there were only a few left.  Five months of them left.  Five months.  I will be forever thankful for five beautiful months. 

Honor

 

Just because your husband dies, your marriage doesn’t.  Your marriage has been, and is still, very present.  Love doesn’t die.  In my case it’s grown deeper.  The space you inhabited together, the town, the environment – it all lives.  Actually, I don’t want it to disappear, I want to hold on for awhile.  Maybe that’s why I wear his flannel shirt occasionally, why I play his music, why I wear my wedding ring.  I know time will release my hold, but I’m not anxious.  I will be married and remember for awhile.

 

During this past year, I read an article about ways to honor your deceased spouse.  Several things were suggested like plant a tree, create a photo album or light a candle.  What do you know, I had already applied a suggestion without thinking about honor.  I suppose it was a natural course of action for me… honoring Bill.

 

My daughter-in-law had given me a necklace, a mustard seed and mountain necklace representing Matthew 17:20-21:  “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.” She and I wore this necklace every day during my husband’s illness.  Our hope is in God, no matter what.  Then when Bill left me, I added his wedding ring to the necklace.  His ring and my ring are alike.  Carved doves from gold reminded us that the Holy Spirit is the center of our lives.  I continue to wear the necklace because in my heart, for now, I am still married to this perfect-man-for-me.  As I put it on, I thank God for giving Bill to me and for our years of marriage.

 

Kaela wears her necklace too.  She chose not only to honor him alongside me, but to love me while I linger in my beautiful marriage.  Honor on top of honor.

Care-giving

 

Many of us have cared for others in some capacity.  Moms care for children everyday.  Folks my age often care for aging parents.  Some care for others as a profession.  And then there are the round-the-clock, day in and day out care givers. 

 

First, if this is you, please let me say — bless you!  The tasks are never-ending, the all-in sacrifice takes every ounce, the drain is to the scrape-the-bottom.  I understand.  I dealt with all the emotions and attitudes.  It changed me. 

 

I adopted a philosophy early in my adult years.  It goes like this: Look ahead to future days then imagine looking back to current days.  Be able to say, I would do it the same.  In other words, live without regrets.  Mistakes are teachers, and if we pay attention, we can right a wrong so quickly that they skip the regret column.

 

As I was caring for my Bill, this philosophy took hold of me.  One particular night, I heard him rustling in his hospital bed.  I knew he needed something, but this body of mine was so tired that I… well I let him rustle as I lay in my own bed.  I just couldn’t do one more thing.  The rustling, however, did not stop, and I knew it wouldn’t until I got up and met the need. 

When I hovered over Bill to ask what he needed, he said, “Oh I didn’t want to bother you.  I didn’t want to frustrate you again.” !!!  Did you hear that?  He said, again!  I had been sending a clear message.  Meeting his needs was a frustration.  How could I let that happen?  He was the one suffering.

 

No regrets Kath.  I knelt to my knees to beg forgiveness.  I cried.  In the dark of the night, I cried before him.  I said, “Babe, I will do for you whatever you need, whenever you need it.  Whenever!  I’m so sorry.  That frustration is gone.  I’m turning a corner right now.  My heart is to serve you until Jesus Himself serves you.”

 

I stood by that resolve.  I had to summons the smile sometimes, negotiate some rest time, pause and check my tone, and pray.  But God helped me serve my husband.  Today I am so thankful to be able to say, I would do it the same.

Habits

 

Habits work their way into days and routines without notifying us.  For example, driving.  Each of us have a driving routine.  I buckle my seat belt after I am fully out of the driveway.  I have a funny habit of leaving tags on new items.  Sometimes I will leave a gift or package unopened for awhile.  Sometimes a few days.  I don’t know why I do this.  We do things because of repetition often without any rationale.

   

When I was caring for Bill I developed habits.  I sat in our loveseat, my legs draped over its arm, so that I faced his hospital bed.  Then I found and held his hand for many minutes, usually in the dark of early morning.  With my free hand I caressed his.  In this way, I felt close to him again after spending the night without him in our bed.  The morning after he passed, I instinctively plopped down in the love seat and reached for Bill’s hand.  I actually groped for it and found only the keen remembrance.  Those first few mornings, the form of a hand was distinctive and yet, not there.

 

I would pick up my phone to speed dial him after a bit of news, after I’d heard from one of our kids, or to ask for directions or a simple question.  On one trip back to our home town (I moved closer to our son and his family — more on that to come) I drove toward our street.  My car, not me, made the turn to pull into our driveway.  I ordered a drink for Bill in the drive-through.  I flipped to the weather station so he could catch tomorrow’s forecast.  Habits.  Some are unchanging even when things change.  They leave me startled.  “What did I just do?” “My brain has been left behind.”

 

Even today, though I am much more aware of my habits, occasionally one will slip ahead of me and surprise me.  Like always, it takes my breath away, but then the breath releases a giggle.  “Look what I just did.  I’m a ding dong.” I find the habits that hang around and sneak out of their corners, comfort me.  It’s a reminder of my before life and how much I loved it.  Bill, you were the reason for so many habits.  After 40 years of marriage, I’m happy to mistakenly buy decaf hazelnut coffee Kcups.