Branches and Trees

Musings on Marriage

Tag: Tears

Sometimes We Fall Apart

May 10, 2021 / / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

This morning I finished the last page of my planner, my oh-so-valuable Things To Do notebook.  I typically use one each year, glance through it when it’s full, then throw it away.  You probably have something similar – the daily lists and reminders, temporary information that’s important for a time, and then it’s not.

As I was scanning through my notebook, I came upon the schedules for giving Lorazepam and Morphine to Grandpa, the timing for his breathing treatments, the list of Hospice workers, names of the amazing people who came in for the night shift and short statements about his general condition.  Suddenly my mind and emotions were swept back to those last few weeks of Grandpa’s life. 

It’s been almost a year since he passed and six months since we’ve moved back to Michigan, but immediately and unexpectedly today I relived all the grief and heartache of walking toward the horizon of the end of his life on this earth.  It was a sacred time a year ago, yet perplexing in how to give him comfort as well as those who gathered around to help.  I was reminded anew about how important it is for us to have a community of support, to give encouragement and do what we cannot do.  I’m reminded of the saying

It takes a village to raise a child,

but I think I can complement it by saying

It takes a village to escort a life to the end.

I know my statement doesn’t have quite the ring as the original, but it’s the best I can come up with – plus it’s true.

I used to feel young compared to Grandpa and Grandma (I looked quite spry in comparison) but now that I am around all of you, my daughters and your beautiful families, I don’t quite feel that way anymore and I continually marvel at all your energy and youth. But it’s ok, God has given each of us a time to begin life on this earth, a time to carry on and a time to leave.

I also came upon a beautiful song today, capturing all the emotions I was feeling.  So I listened and wept over all the memories – the hard, the beautitful, and a combination of all the others.  The chorus verbalized everything I was feeling:

It’s okay to cry
It’s okay to fall apart
You don’t have to try
To be strong when you are not
And it may take sometime to make sense of all your thoughts
But don’t ever fight your tears
‘Cause there is freedom in every drop
Sometimes the only way to heal a broken heart is when we fall apart  

It’s okay to cry, fall apart, and be weak.  In fact, maybe that’s how we can live life to the fullest.  Freedom comes in our honesty to admit we hurt, to admit we miss those who have gone, and admit we need help.  After all, it takes a village…

Love, Mom

Farewell to Idaho

September 13, 2020 / / 14 Comments

Dear Daughters,

            Once again I am in the middle of boxes, piles, decisions, and emotions.  Boxes of things to be thrown out or given away, piles of memories to be sorted through, decisions of what goes where, and emotions scattered all across the landscape. 

            After living for almost six years in the beautiful state of Idaho, learning to be caretakers for Grandma and Grandpa and sitting with them as they took their final breaths, we are almost packed up and ready to move back to Michigan.  It’s difficult to leave after finding new friends, renewing ties with so many relatives, and experiencing the many challenges connected with the end of the precious lives of my parents. 

            Even though we have moved over 10 times in our marriage, it never gets easier.  I have said hello and good-bye to more friends than I can remember, and every time there are tears of farewell, tears of remorse for what I have lost, a breaking heart for what could have been and wasn’t.

            I guess I could have chosen not to love.  Not to open my heart to new friends, new experiences, a different culture and landscape. But that alternative doesn’t look at all pleasant to me.  Because I dislike the grief of saying that dreaded word good-bye, perhaps I should simply say,

            God be with you till we meet again.

            As CS Lewis wrote many years ago:

            To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.  Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.  To love is to be vulnerable.   

            So we leave with heavy hearts, joy-filled hearts, broken hearts and hearts full of anticipation to what God has in store for us in Michigan.  It will be lovely to live near all of you our daughters and families, while at the same time looking forward to friends we will  come to know and love as well.

            I am reminded of the beauty and struggle of faithfulness, highlighted in marriage, as we prepare to move.  Though Dad and I have had arguments during the process of this move – differing opinions of what stays what gets thrown away and what comes with us, we fought for love, for understanding and for grace – a battle not easily won, but so worth the fight.

            The rugged beauty of Idaho parallels my emotions throughout the years we’ve spent here.  There are dry dusty deserts, high beautiful mountains, lush fertile valleys, slow snaking rivers alongside brilliant cascading waterfalls, all typically accompanied by azure blue skies.

            There have been times I’ve felt dry and desolate as I watched Grandpa and Grandma fail and eventually breathe their last …

The mountaintop times of celebrating new friendships and then loss as I’ve watched those same friends move away…

Learning to trust God in the valleys, walking through previously uncharted territory when dealing with dementia in Grandma, becoming a mother figure to my own mom…

The simple pleasures of picking grapes, blackberries, apples, plums, cherries and roses all because of Grandpa’s vision of planting a small twig of a tree or a grapevine knowing someday it would yield a bountiful harvest…

Watching the careful pruning Grandpa would always do in his garden, knowing that old wild vines and overgrown trees would never grow beautiful fruit.  They had to be trimmed, the old limbs cut off till it sometimes looked as if they were hopelessly dead, yet in just a little while new green shoots and leaves would be flourishing…

So much to learn in this cycle of life, of living, growing and dying – yet, all the while knowing that Jesus is walking ahead of us, a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path, leading the way he has planned for us to go.

            God is good and His will is that we live responsibly today and trust Him for tomorrow.  It’s hard, it hurts, but I know it’s the only way that will bring joy.  So, to my dear friends I’m leaving in Idaho and have yet to meet in Michigan,

            May the road rise to meet you,

            May the wind be always at your back

            The sun shine warm upon your face

            The wind blow soft upon your fields.

            And until we meet again,

             May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

                                                (The Old Irish Blessing) 

Love, Mom

The First Time

May 14, 2020 / / 22 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Tonight, for the first time ever, Grandpa needed help to go to bed.  Just a month ago he was able to do the bedtime routine on his own but now he needs an oxygen machine to take his every breath.  Dad and I follow him down the hall, Dad pushing R2D2 and me carrying the tubing.  In the short time of a single day he forgot what to do next in getting ready for sleep.  The familiar words

What do I do next?

What do I do now?

What do I do?

echo back in my mind as Grandma would say the same phrases toward the end of her time here on earth.  The world seems to be a scary and confusing place right now for Grandpa, his words come out in a whisper when I ask him if he needs anything else.  His legs give out, he falls, we help him up – oh how difficult life is for him whose eyes have seen so many sunsets. 

My mind goes back to my young, strong dad – working in the barn, the fields, in his workshop – always working with his hands.  Then I think about my decades older dad when he still worked in his shop, pulled some weeds, drove his Gator around, picked apples, fell in the garden and simply rolled over and stood up again. 

Today Pastor Gary and Arie came to serve communion to Grandpa, Dad, Aunt Rhonda and I.  Gary is so thoughtful, remembering to bring a coffee cup with an attached lid containing grape juice since Grandpa’s tremors prevent him from using a small cup. 

I’m not sure I’ve ever celebrated a more precious communion. Here we were sitting with our Pastor, all of us encouraging, suffering and grieving with Grandpa who is so ready to be with his Savior.

Love, faithfulness, friendship, family and communion – especially near the end of life, there are no greater gifts given than these.

Everything is different now.  After I put him to bed last night I went back to my own bedroom and wept.  Tears of weariness, tears of sadness, of seeing a life slowing down and coming toward a close. 

Hospice is a beautiful group of friends, of people who love and care for Grandpa as much as we do.  They walk through the hard, sad times alongside us with joy.  I am grateful.

We are meant for eternity, and for eternity we shall live.  It’s just that the door to our heavenly place is uncharted territory and difficult to walk through.  But walk we will, and we trust Jesus to bring us all safely home in His time.

Love, Mom

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